I'm still searching for that New Normal. Maybe I put it in the dryer and the universe mistook it for a sock? Stranger things have happened. In the meantime, we're rediscovering some simple pleasures here at home. The beds are unmade and the sink is overflowing with dishes and the laundry's piling up, but we've got some games to play, man. Come on over to Off Our Chests today and I'll tell you about this one time at camp and why it's been on my mind, lately.
I believe the technical term for today is "post-show letdown." The other technical term for today is "and now the shit hits the fan" or "every time an overworked parent takes some time to do something totally separate from her children there is later hell to pay." Details! Call it whatever you want; Chickadee had a good most-of-a-week at school and came to the show twice and promptly became very ill again, and Monkey had to come home early from school today because it was just one of those days when he couldn't pull it together. Naturally, I am convinced that all of this is my fault. (I...
Chickadee is trying a half-day back at school today. She's been out for three weeks; I'm pretty sure dropping her off for the first day of kindergarten was easier than this morning. I put on a brave face to counter her nerves, got her settled, then cried all the way home. Fun! And in the midst of everything else, I'm still going to be in The Vagina Monologues this week, because somehow I never gathered up the brain cells to say, "Hey, Self, perhaps you have a little too much going on right now to continue with this particular non-essential commitment?" I just kept reminding myself that it's...
I don't know if you know this, but it is hugely inconvenient to have more than one child to care for when you have a sick kid. Who knew, right? Extremely poor planning on my part, to be sure. Having the stress of trying to take care of one sick kid while making sure the well one doesn't end up sad and neglected is like a special Suckage Bonus Prize. There were points at which I was honestly more worried about Monkey than Chickadee; once she was in the hospital, at least I knew she was safe and being taken care of, whereas with Monkey, he was worried and weepy and to top it off, we kept...
I can't remember where I got it from... a long ago friend started it, I think... but there used to be a group of us who would follow any awkward silence or unprecedented/weird turn of conversation with, "Hey, did you catch that game? You know... the one... they play with... that ball?" None of us were sports fans, and it was basically just code for "Ooooooh, awkward. Moving on!" That is how I'm currently feeling. Did you catch that game? I would like to walk away from the computer for a few days or a week and not talk or write for a while, as 2012 continues to kick my ass so hard I'm...
... how The Vagina Monologues is going. It's going! I am rusty, much rustier than I expected. I mean, sure, getting up on stage is just like riding a bike in that I guess you kind of have this kinesthetic memory that doesn't forget how it all works, but on the other hand, I'm guessing that if you hadn't ridden a bike for twenty years and then hopped on one, it wouldn't be the smoothest ride, either. I'm working on it (and feeling ooooold). But! The people are great, the show is fabulous, and I am having oodles of fun. Also: I now own faux-snakeskin skinny jeans. YES. Purchased specifically...
In the midst of angst and hand-wringing, I sometimes find it helpful to remember that my kids have survived worse. Even more comforting, in a bizarro sort of way, is remembering that I survived MUCH worse, and what's more, back then---in the Stone Age, you know---no one even though it was much of a big deal. Clearly I just need to toughen these kids up. Put 'em to work, maybe, or force them to walk to school in the snow. Except we don't have any snow, and nowadays that would probably be considered child abuse. Heh. Today I'm over at Off Our Chests, reflecting on some differences between my...
Is there anything better than arriving home after a trip and collapsing into your own bed? I contend that there is not. Especially if you've just driven 900+ miles in a single day and haven't yet realized that following that delicious night of sleep in your own space you'll be dealing with The Holiday That Threw Up All Over The House And Also Two Weeks Worth Of Mail And Packages And By The Way The Children Are Still Sick. Needless to say, last night was delicious. It was around midnight by the time we'd arrived home, dispatched the children upstairs, and unloaded the clown-car-esque packing...
I'm over at Off Our Chests today, decompressing from Christmas. (Still not dead, Dad.)