I've been meaning to post for a week now. I have so much to say, so much to ponder. So why haven't I posted?
I have no idea.
Oh, it's been busy, busy over here on Spencer Street. And have we been cranky, cranky? Oh, yes, oh, my, we have. Will in particular has been rode hard and put up wet by his time spent at Our Fine School. I'm sure at school he is his charming, funny self, but at home he is the worst child known to humankind. Ever. Yep, worse than your worst child on your worst child's worst day. Count on it.
Jack is off to Camp Cheerio with the rest of the sixth grade until Friday. Yet another opportunity to miss him. Oh, the sweet sorrow of that. When he's here, I don't miss at him at all. I just want to miss him. I want to miss him a lot. For days and days and days.
Jack is actually not so devastated by his seven hours outside of the home as Will is, but he has no patience whatsoever for his spawn of the devil little brother. And right now? I need Jack to have a teeny tiny bit of patience. I need him to take one for the team. I need him to be a boy not so clearly on the edge of adolescence, not quite so ready with the whip-smart sarcastic remark. And last night at dinner, when he asked poor, little Will if he knew that the word gullible wasn't in the dictionary, I wanted to disown him on the spot.
I mean, I just don't want to go there.
Not that Will has any idea of what the word gullible means.
I don't know if you watched the Emmy's on Sunday, but I was given the award for Best Performance by a Completely Exhausted Woman Trying to Act Like a Nice and Caring Mommy. I'm doing my best, girls. I'm making French toast for breakfast and offering healthy snacks in the afternoon. I'm smiling until my mouth hurts. No children have been physically harmed or--and I'm especially proud of this--emotionally abused during the making of this movie.
But how long can it last? How long can I last? Have I mentioned lately that I'm abstaining from both sugar and wine?
Okay, I need to go. I spent all day peeling wallpaper from the living room and dining room walls, and I'm even more pooped than normal. But you know what? I like peeling wallpaper. It's very quiet and lovely, wallpaper is, and it doesn't throw foam footballs at you and start rolling around the floor like it's the funniest thing in the world that you find being hit repeatedly by a foam football annoying. Wallpaper never throws anything at you, or makes cutting remarks about second graders, or complains about the contents of its lunchbox. It just sits there, very, very quietly while you work.
And that is why I love wallpaper best of all.
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