Things have been super crazy busy lately. I feel like I’ve been running around frantically trying to get everything done, and only getting maybe 75% of it accomplished. Kids are all well and healthy, with the minor exception of Jessie being sick last week (or was it two weeks ago?) and then Julie was throwing up on Saturday.
Jessie is doing really well. She’s almost eleven, does that make any sense at all? Eleven was a big year for me, when I was a child. A lot happened that year, my grandmother died, my parents’ divorce was finalized, I got my period (TMI?). I just feel like it was such a pivotal year for me, and it’s so bizarre and strange to me that Jessie is actually old enough to be eleven. She’ll be turning eleven and I’ll be turning forty. Hmmm – I sense a lot of introspective posts coming around the end of January/beginning of February. She’s growing up so fast – and the reality that I have a tween-age daughter is still one that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.
Sam’s rocking the first grade, and all is well there. We’ve had a couple of fairly significant hiccups, times when the anxiety gets really intense and he struggles, but mostly, he’s doing great. What I like most about pick up after school is watching him interact with all the other kids. He gets up to the top of the hill, tosses his backpack at me and then dances off to run and yell and be insane with all the other kids. He’s got a best friend – he and Nicky have been together for the past two years, and I love it. But he plays with a whole bunch of different kids, he’s so social and relaxed with his peers. I love it.
My Julianna – oh, my Julie. In some ways, she’s thriving – she’s finally at the point where she actually enjoys going to preschool. It was a HARD adjustment, and so many times, I wanted to give up and just let her stay home. She was too young, it wasn’t worth this level of stress for a three year old. But we seem to have to gotten to the other side, she isn’t crying anymore, she’s still a little wistful at drop off, but only at drop off, and she isn’t sobbing relentlessly all morning on the way to school. On the flipside, she’s also adopted this incredibly infuriating habit of fake crying when things don’t go her way. Just hollering in a wailing sort of way, no tears, just loud irritating screaming. The other night, she dropped to the floor and yelled for fifteen minutes because she changed her mind about the way she wanted her hot dog (in a bun as opposed to cut up) and I had already gotten it ready for her. I try to not stifle their expression – it’s okay to cry if you’re upset, or express unhappiness – but I swear, I’ve found myself actually yelling at her and demanding that she STOP screaming or I’ll put her in time-out. What consistently surprises me is that it works – putting limits on the yelling is almost a relief to her, because left unchecked, she just keeps yelling.
I’m busy, busy, busy doing Sisterhood stuff, ECC stuff, and trying to keep up with the housework (which never happens) and, when I can wrestle the computer away from Marc/kids, and the house is quiet and I can actually work uninterrupted – writing. I wish I had more time for writing, but it’s hard to find it. Even right now, I’ve got laundry piled up, and a dishwasher to unload/reload and Julie is sitting right beside me, a few minutes away from demanding time/attention from me.
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