This week has been - not bad, exactly, but wonky. After the book fair, which wasn't overly onerous but did deplete my introvert tank a little, and then having the kids home and extra kids here for project-completing and babysitting here on Friday, and then the dinner party on Saturday, I was feeling depleted. Then I felt more sick (when I'd been sick but feeling better) or sick again. Then the weather got blustery and my head went all thumpy. I'm out of sorts. I drop stuff. I bump into stuff. Solid glasses seem to leak when I try to drink out of them. This morning in the shower I punched myself in the face. I think maybe I was reaching for something and my face got in the way, but I'm not sure - I probably knew before I got punched in the face, but then I experienced some short-term memory loss. I'm feeling like I've provided a less-than-stellar showing in NaBloPoMo and wishing I'd done some more preparation, so I had a hook, or a theme, or at least some weightier, more insightful posts prepared, because just posting every day is a thing, but I'm not sure it's a particularly valuable thing.
But it's okay. I have shelter. My husband is in the country (until Saturday). I didn't have any urgent volunteer commitments. I have a few days before my next Computer Course assignment is due. I shopped for Maple Gingerbread Cake ingredients on Friday and got a few other things, so there was stuff in the fridge to make dinner.
Plus my family is abundant with the comfort and entertainment.
Eve came home after school and told me various things about her day, while sitting in my lap in the rocking chair - and by sitting in my lap I mean stretched across me with her feet hanging off the end of the ottoman, but it works for us. She said "If I ever have a boy I'm going to name him Shaun, but I'm going to spell it the S-E-A-N way so he can be a smartass and say "No, my name isn't SEEN, it's SHAUN." I said "I'd call you weird, but I punched myself in the face in the shower this morning, so I'm not sure I'm qualified." A few minutes later, she said to Angus "you're a smartass. Just like my kid." Angus looked confused, so I clarified "her imaginary son named Sean."
After supper, I was working on my assignment and Eve asked Matt to get her some ice cream. He got her some, then asked if I wanted some and got some for me and himself. Then he yelled downstairs to Angus to ask if he wanted some, and when Angus said no thanks he said "fine, then screw you and the horse you rode in on." He asked Eve if she wanted sprinkles. She said "if I say no, I suppose you're going to screw me and my horse too?"
All of which is to say, I've been reminded that ninety percent of parenting is just showing up. And in this house, ninety percent of hearing your kids say hilarious and fairly inappropriate things is just showing up (and hanging around the kitchen, apparently). And maybe, when you feel like you're hanging on to everything in your life by the ends of your fingernails (one of which gave you a tiny, humiliating cut on your chin when you punched your own self in the face in the shower one morning) ninety percent of blogging is just showing up. And now that I know I can show up every day for a month if I force myself to,then when I'm ready to do something with a little more substance, I won't have lost the habit.
That's what I'm going with. If you have a dissenting opinion, just stow it and eat your ice cream, will you?