I ate cereal for dinner. And I might have dessert.
My back is achy, my eyes are tired and I need to color my hair.
The little boy stayed home from school again today.
Don’t know why.
I asked, but as you know, his answers don’t always help me.
I gave him the start of a sentence: “I want to stay home because…?”
He finished it with “I want to sit on the couch.”
So I said “I want to sit on the couch because…?”
And he finished it with “I want to stay home.”
This conversation happened after an impossible ten minutes of agitated, shaking, teary meltdown.
And it was the high point, the most effective part, of our communication about school.
The relief on his body when I finally gave in and told him he didn’t have to go? It was visibly heavy, deeply physical, and kind of heartbreaking.
He’s not missing calculus. I can’t feel guilty.
Sigh. Harumph. Snort.
Honestly, I don’t mind having him home with me most days. He’s a sweet companion. It’s just that he needs constant attention and I get tired.
I do nothing active. I do nothing overtly taxing to my intellect. I do nothing another person might consider particularly difficult.
And yet, an unexpected day with the eight-year-old ball of energy and will, and I am whooped. Done. Pickled. Over. And. Out.
Today, we went for pancakes with Grandpa Lou. He’s flying solo this week while my mom is in Indiana for my uncle’s funeral.
The little boy was pretty good at Aunt Emma’s. He was pretty good when I took him to grocery store a few hours later. And he was pretty good all the time in between and after.
It was the little battles over the hose and the water table, his snacks and a milkshake, the computer, a bunch of cardboard building blocks, and a long list of other teeny little nothings that drained me of my will to remain upright today.
He’s asleep now. Little angel. I think he understands he has to go to school tomorrow. I think he’ll go.
Maybe I can get him to wear a sweatshirt. Maybe that will help. I think he’s just cold, you know?
Jackets are another battle.
It’s always something.
P.S. I let Rusty hang out in the back yard with us today.
He is one of the three most annoying life forms in our home, but sometimes he cracks me up.
He attacked the sprinkler water…
and reveled in a cool concrete sensory session.
P. P.S. I still haven’t finished my book and it’s killing me that I never have time for it.
It’s the first thing I’ve read since The Firm that makes me feel like the characters are pacing in the room asking each other when I’m going to pick up the book again!
I’ve read a lot of great novels in my life, but this one is compelling in a familiar, agreeable way for me. I know I’ll want more from this author when I finally finish.
I also have a huge stack of other books waiting and I feel anxious about getting to them too.
When I was a teenager and reading every minute, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t actually have time to read every book I wanted to before I passed away.
Isn’t that a sobering thought? Even if I live to be a very old woman, I still might die before I get to finish reading everything.
Of all the zillion things I might ever put on a bucket list, maybe half of them are books.