Last night I dreamed that someone needed my help finding a program on t.v.
The program was called “Breathe” and it was showing on the Oxygen network.
I couldn’t help them find it.
Then I dreamed I had to pee, but there was a circle of well dressed white collar smarties sitting at their desks all around the entrance to the restroom.
I was forced to make socially awkward small talk to get through.
Once I got beyond their dark shiny desks, I found bright yellow caution tape surrounding the restroom hallway and door.
It gave me stressful pause, but another woman made her way past it with an air of authority, so I followed her in.
The restroom was in shambles and the ceiling hung down from the rafters like an asbestos laden curtain in my path.
I had to push it aside to get to the stalls.
It was dirty and the dust of it showered me as I tried to get through.
“I can’t breathe” I gasped toward the woman in front of me, but she was gone.
Then I woke up. In a sweat. With the covers over my face. And I had to pee.
It left me wondering, yet again, if I really dreamed all that or if someone just sent me an uncomfortable vision to roust me from a stupor.
Maybe dreams and planted visions are the same thing.
Either way, it sucked. I shook it off and took care of my business.
“Breathe”? On the “Oxygen” Network? Seriously? What the…?
When I walked back from the bathroom, I heard the little boy laughing and talking in his room.
It was only 4:20 a.m. Darn time change. His little body thought it was 5:20.
What kills me is that he normally gets up at 6:20, so no matter how you measure it, I got duped out of some sleep.
I told him it was far too early to go downstairs and that he needed to look at the clock and wait for the six to appear.
I spent the next hour lying fitfully on his bed while he played in the room around me.
At 5:50 or so, he started a clamorous minute-by-minute announcement of the time. I gave up trying to sleep.
At six sharp, we headed to the kitchen.
The little boy was mellow and wanted only to find a snack and sit quietly next to mommy on the couch while he ate it. Not a good sign.
Can you guess where this is going?
That’s right, he’s home from school AGAIN.
The sniffy nose kept him awake or woke him up early or whatever, and now he is standing at the table with his little blue scissors making little blue ornaments.
And singing. He’s always singing.
Thursday and Friday are school holidays, so it looks like he’ll have a two-day week, one third of his classroom instruction time spent making paper shapes and hanging them in anticipation of Christmas. Sigh.
I wonder if the school will ever give up on us, you know? I wonder if they will ever say they can’t justify an aide for him because he misses too much time.
I’m mentally preparing myself for that moment.
I feel it coming.
Maybe by next year, we will have a slightly better track record.
I hope so.
Thank goodness it’s raining again today.
Just in case your britches were itchy for some more squash rot, here are the latest pix…
Day Eight 2010 Pumpkin Demise