the school year has begun
and with it, the schedule crazy. I always hate September–between the beginning of school & all the school-related events; a huge, week-long meeting I’ve gotta do for work; and the Bee’s birthday, it’s a crazy, crazy month. This year is no different, in that respect.
The Bee has decided to play field hockey again this fall. She was assigned to honors Language Arts & honors Math–when did they start having honors classes in middle school? The Language Arts teacher assigned a 5 paragraph essay. On the first day of school. Her field hockey schedule has her not getting home until 5, and then it’s time to watch a little tv before dinner, and then spend the whole evening doing homework.
The Potato and I have been working on cleaning up his room, a little bit. We went to back-to-school night at the elementary school last night, and looking at his desk was so refreshing. It seems he CAN keep some space neat, if he’s really motivated. His room at the old house looks like it should be eligible for FEMA relief. Perhaps one can have too many Legos….
We’re supposed to be signing him up for karate this fall, but neither landisdad nor I have gotten around to it. But he needs something to do if he’s not going to play soccer. That boy has energy to burn. His wiggling is legendary.
it wasn’t until I saw one of those
“one year ago today” posts on Facebook that I remembered that today is the one year anniversary of the fight that ended my marriage.
I guess it’s progress, of a sort, that I had almost forgotten that I spent all of Labor Day weekend 2010 curled in the fetal position on the living room couch.
A lot has changed in that year.
The kids are staying with me this week, and we’re off. We’ve been doing a lot of banal stuff—shopping for school supplies and sports equipment, new shoes and outfits.
A couple of nights ago, I was lying on my bed, reading, and the Potato wandered in for a cuddle. I said to him, “you like to start and end your day with a snuggle, don’t you?” and he laughed and said, “yes.” Now, every night he comes in and lies down next to me for a few minutes—he’s already had the long-established practice of jumping into bed with me in the morning (which he does with an unseemly glee on the coldest winter mornings, with his cold feet).
The kids will be staying with me much less when the school year starts. We’ll be back to our old routine, where I spend the evening with them at their house, and come back to my apartment alone.
I wonder, if I had known a year ago what I know now, what I might have done differently.
