hoping the alligator will bite me
I was sick on Monday and have only now started to feel human again. In my sickness, I completely neglected to mention what we did the day before I got sick: Saturday’s brief vacation to Nightshadeland North. Dirk called on Friday night to invite us to a pumpkin-carving soirée at his parents’ house. As last weekend was one of the few this month not swamped with social engagements, we decided to give’r.
It was a good decision. The Boy & I got a whole day of adult conversation, I got to see Dirk’s newest Christ-like incarnation (think: beard), Blake got to play with Dirk’s lego & castle, and we all got up to our armpits in pumpkin guts. The Nightshade ladies were terribly enthusiastic about having us up for the day, which made me feel happy & relaxed & wanted. So a good day for us all. Tiring running after Blake and smoothing out his fights with the other kids, but glorious for all that.
I am a passionate combination of tired, bored & lazy today. I have a mountain of marking this weekend and almost no time in which to do it. I think that my reluctance to mark at school has more to do with the solo second shift than laziness. Or so I’d like to think. And the less prepared I feel, the less I enjoy myself. I hope I can muster the energy to work hard and thus enjoy myself next week.
Heh. I’m starting to feel like the crazy science teacher in The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Doom:
The biology teacher is Miss Sweet. She’s about seventy years old. Miss Sweet doesn’t speak to the class at all. Instead she talks to the specimins, plants and animals in the classroom.
”Oh dear,” Miss Sweet says, “why do they keep sending all these children here? How am I going to take care of my plants and animals properly if they keep sending these children here?” (She’s saying this to various growing and living things.)
Blake’s nocturnal experiments have reached new heights – he was up at 2:30 this morning demanding breakfast. The Boy took that one for the team, but two nights ago it was me dealing with him at 3:30 when he started yelling for no apparent reason. That night I had a few awful moments when I thought that I would be going to work on the sleep I had received before the shouting began. As it happened, I got to snooze for a scant half-hour before starting my day. Ugly stuff.
My mom has renewed her (creepy) idea of installing Blake in his own bedroom upstairs. She was hoping to get Nic’s room, but Nic has dug in his heels in the hope of inheriting the basement once we leave. So now she’s decided on my old bedroom, the one my dad has filled, from the crown to the toe, top-full of direst junk. It’s pretty awful in there, like Dirk’s bedroom only a lot worse. I agreed that if he cleaned it out and removed one desk, one book shelf and the credenza, I would put Blake in there. I figure the chances are slim.
Eh. My mom’s intentions are good, and she wants to put Blake in a regular place every day – she can’t do that during the week because the Boy is sleeping in our bedroom all day. Still, I find this idea of installing my toddler 3 floors up and out of earshot…creepy. I already have issues with my parents usurping my parental authority. Nights are the only time when I have unlimited dominion over my son. I don’t need this.
Just so we don’t leave this subject on an entirely negative note, I should mention that my mom redeemed last week’s lunch club debacle by cooking most of the meal this week. Too bad we’ve had another defector, whose loss seals the club’s doom.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*