Ikea: the master of deceptive simplicity. (Image by Carl Kleiner.)

Going to Ikea on a Sunday is SUCH a rookie move. Going to Ikea at noon on a Sunday with your children and husband in tow means you don't get to complain about anything ever again, because honestly, you're clearly so poor at decision-making that you deserve whatever comes your way. Forever.

Except I had to go. Because I needed something that could only be found at Ikea, and Ikea charges $150 to deliver, and the alternative to going with my children and husband was going with my children and without my husband, and sorry nope.

It's happening: that thing that I promised myself wouldn't happen. That thing I specifically wrote about in the context of encouraging other people not to let it happen to them.

I'm getting sick and tired of talking about (and thinking about) politics. And it's making me want to put my earmuffs back on. Or bury my head in the sand. Pick an "ignorance is bliss" analogy; any one'll do.

The problem isn't that I'm "too upset," actually - it's that all this upsetness is starting to make me feel...numb. And the numbness is what freaks me out. Each and every day a new atrocity pops up in my news feed that makes me feel like I'm living in an alternate reality, or maybe still asleep. I know this sounds insane. I'm serious. I mentioned this odd little development to my therapist, and you know what she said? "Oh, yeah, that's dissociation. Super common. It's your brain's way of protecting you."

Here is a thing that I do, and wish I didn’t: So often – most days, in fact – I stick to the plan. Once I pick my kids up from school I have an idea of what our afternoon is “supposed” to look like, and I’ll march us through the schedule one checkmark at a time, lest something get forgotten or left undone. My kids will ask whether we can do something I hadn’t even thought of – something that would shoot the day off in a completely different direction - and my kneejerk reaction will be to say no, because come on, guys – we have things to do.

Except…do we, really? It’ll be mid-afternoon, and I’ll be sweeping the floor or making a grocery list or trying to fix the latest thing that has broken, and my kids will rush at me, wanting to go on a bike ride, and I’ll say: “I can’t, guys.”

Sometimes, of course, the answer is “No, Mommy can’t because Mommy’s computer is broken and she has been waiting on hold for three hours to locate an actual human being who will help her fix it and Mommy may lose her mind if she hangs up now” (or even “No, Mommy needs to spend a few minutes staring at her Instagram feed because she needs a mental break from life”; that’s totally legit, too)…but other times? I think you put down the phone or the computer or the mop or the to-do list and just say “yes.” Not just for the kids; for yourself.