and not a think to write.
My Boy has been home sick since yesterday around 11:00. The phone rang around 10:35, and my caller ID said, Name of School. And the school’s just not whom you want to hear from in the middle of the day. Particularly when your pre-K-kid is in the bathtub and you have a massage scheduled for 100 minutes hence. I told the nurse she must have some sort of complex because no one is happy to hear from her in the middle of the day.
So, I picked up my Boy from school. After, of course, shooing the ever-so-easy-going Ruth out of the bathtub ahead of schedule, brushing and drying her hair as quickly as possible, skipping over the waiting-for-the-van, marathon bubble-blowing session to which we’ve grown accustomed, and rushing her over to the school twenty minutes before she was set to arrive for her own school day. Poor Boy was green. Thankfully, the nurse–who really is a lovely woman–offered to take Ruth to sit with her sister in the cafeteria until it was time for her school day to start, so that I didn’t have to drive her home simply to buckle her into the school van approximately 85 seconds later.
So, poor green Boy. So sad. So very sad. My Boy is supposed to be full of energy and intensity, not lying like a lump on the couch. So sad.
A good mother would end the post there. But I make no claims about being a good, conscientious mother. This mother, while sad for her poor, sick boy, is also sad for her poor lazy self. I really wanted that massage I had scheduled yesterday. I already payed for it with a Groupon-like thing. And I waited for just the right day for it. And yesterday was it. And then it wasn’t. And then, today I was desperate to just hang out by myself for a while, and my poor Boy is green once again. So sad! So sad for poor green Boy who loves food, but whose food is now playing tricks on him and seeking to jump right back out after it’s swallowed. And poor, lousy, selfish mother who’d like to sit in silence for a while, to stew in her own frantic thinkings about major life changes and class schedules and childcare for two hours each of two afternoons a week . . .
Run on sentences. They be my thang.
Poor green Boy appears to be less green now. Actually he looks quite pink. And he’s now enthusiastically looking at pictures of the Titanic in National Geographic. I think he’s all better. And I’m glad. Because this is my Boy: enthusiastic, full of non-fiction tidbits, and wild speculation. That’s better.
I’ll think my thinks tomorrow. Oh. Never mind. I won’t. Ruth has no school tomorrow and the kids who do go to school will be home a little after 1PM. I’ll think my thinks next week. For, after all, next week is another week.