monkey embassy
As I was stripping off Blake's clothing for his bath, he began chanting odd syllables to himself.
Blake: AyBeeCee. AyBeeCee.Me: That's right, Blake, A B C.
My mom: I thought he was saying embassy.
Me: When you grow up you're going to work at the embassy and go to nice parties and ride in limos.
Blake: (looking at his shoes) Monkey.
Me: I dunno, Blake, the Monkey Embassy is the hardest one to get into. Everyone wants that post. You spend all day eating fruit, sleeping in the trees...and you can throw mangoes at whomever you want. Diplomatic immunity.
My mom: But you can't fling poop.
Me: Oh yes he can. Diplomatic immunity.
Dammit, now I want to join the diplomatic service. Monkey embassy indeed.
I've been utterly exhausted; focusing simply on getting through the days without crying or screaming (and so far I have an unblemished record.) My classes aren't hard exactly, although they're as challenging as I thought they'd be. The hard part is levering myself out of bed in the morning, getting ready to go without my pit crew (a.k.a. the Boy) and keeping the teaching energy going for three periods straight. On the first day I went so hard that I overspent; my entire weekend was a weary misery as a direct result. Yesterday & today I've done better, but I still need a lot of time for planning and I still need a lot of sleep. Last night I fell asleep with Blake at 7:15 and didn't get up until 5:30. Tonight is the Boy's turn to crash extra-early; he's snoozing with the baby now.
I feel cautiously optimistic about the semester. The kids are manageable, the work is falling into place, and I'm about as comfortable as I can be in the school system and my little portable. We'll see how this works out in the long term, but I think we can get though this semester without another visit to the land of medicated mood.
(But if my current cramps bespeak a long-lost visitor, I'll have to revise that statement. Man, I'd forgotten how crappy I could feel in a normal cycle. I'm starting a petition. Lots of names, baby.)
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*