Okay, I know I’m not actually in a war. But there was a moment there where I really didn’t think I was going to make it. (Clearly, I did. And maybe I like to exaggerate a little for effect. Don’t tell anyone.)
I was backing out into the driveway today to do the preschool pickup run, and something didn’t sound right. I stopped the car and looked under it. Couldn’t see anything. Then I walked around, and discovered that I was dragging Levi’s bike along the gravel. It doesn’t look totaled, but I didn’t try to ride it or anything. Paul’s going to have to look at it tomorrow. I feel kind of bad, but I also feel like maybe he should have been listening to me the six thousand times I told him he can’t leave his bike out in the driveway. If you see me and I don’t speak to you, it’s probably because I know if I open my mouth, “I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!” will come shrieking out before I can snap it shut again.
I ate an obscene amount of shepherd’s pie when we finally had dinner. Self-medicating with food is fun! And wrong. WRONG! Children, don’t try this at home.
Getting retakes on the school picture was definitely the right decision.
Because now he looks like a pleasant child whose mother occasionally grooms him.
Levi had x-rays again today, and the doctor was pleased. The splint came off and a hard cast (hunting orange; you may need to wear shades) went on. In what can only be the doctor’s special Christmas gift to me, we don’t have to go back for three weeks.
I found some fleece leggings to wear around the house and I think I am in love. They are so soft, and I am (finally) so warm. I think I’m going to have to find another pair, because eventually I’m going to need to wash these. I don’t know what it is this year that’s different, but I am cold.
Life is requiring us to be flexible with Advent activities. I’ve moved a bunch of plans around already, and the warm fuzzy feelings (except about the fleece leggings) felt very far away as I motored around like the White Rabbit today, always a little bit late. This weekend is almost completely unscheduled, though, and I am looking forward to pancakes on Saturday morning, and some nice refreshing puttering around.
For now, the children are snug in their beds. The time after they’ve gone to bed and before I do is often my favorite time of the day. Sometimes I feel guilty about that, and while it’s true that it’s partly selfish (Quiet! No destruction! Having chocolate without hiding my head in the pantry while I chew!), I think it’s also partly because when they are tucked in bed, I know I have done my job. It is the end of the day. Everyone is still alive. They have been fed and washed and kissed. They are safe, and more or less happy.
It’s a much nicer way to view the way I enjoy this time. I even think it’s true.