At last, I get to blog in real time. Most of my work these days is done in bits and pieces on the laptop. But tonight I'm hiding out in the basement, taking a little time on my own.
It's been a crazy couple of weeks, it seems. I took a small job directing childcare services for the High Holidays for a synagogue, and it's blossomed into a short-term big job. Lots of email, planning ahead for the unknown, and so many details. It's the first time this group has done any childcare of this sort, and the first time I've directed and worked with multiple committees, so we're all newbies in this. Fortunately, everyone I've worked with has had a great attitude, but even the non-site work is flexing a part of my brain that's kind of been on vacation for a long time. Oh, and Kiddo isn't fond of getting less attention either. But the work must be done. So, as I rev up to do this work, our little preschools planning and considerations must wait.
I'm tired today because we started Kiddo sleeping on his own. He's got a little tent in our room, all cozy with tons of blankets on the floor for a mattress as well as pillows, buddies (Doggie, Kitty and Teddy Bear)and I lay down with him; we snuggle until he falls asleep. We've changed the routine so he no longer nurses to sleep, and I've been sleeping with one ear open for the past two nights. We've done well, all things considered, and I'm not one to force it, but I like having space and not getting kicked in the head or having my shirt pawed on in the wee hours.
Kiddo, however, is pretty stressed. All morning long, as I was working in the yard, he'd lean on my back and say in his little boy voice "Want to hold yoooouuuuuu." I'm trying to fill up his hug bank, and also trying to get our garden in shape for winter veggies; I just bought some kale and onions yesterday. Kiddo doesn't care that I've wanted to take that spotty, high-maintenance rosebush out for ages, or that the roots of the droopy-looking echinacea are so darn deep. He wants to dig where the Swiss chard seeds have sprouted. He wants to pull the wickets up from the ground and turn them into microphones, so he can fake his way through the "ABC" song. And he want, still, to be held more.
I don't even want to think about the pile of dishes in the sink.
So this is what it's like to be all grown up.Again. Job, family, house, garden. I could really use a night out. Girls, let me know if any one of you wants to escape Friday night and grab a beer. Seriously.