That’s what I do know.

I juggle.  Not well, and I never really know exactly how many balls are up in the air at any one time.  One thing I am certain of is that balls gets dropped all the time.  Sometimes I don’t even notice that I’ve dropped one, until I get a letter from the pediatrician wondering why I blew off my twelve year’s old physical.  The one I’ve rescheduled twice so far.   I call, I apologize, and I reschedule.  Again.  Only to realize that I scheduled it for the same time frame where she’ll be climbing Mt. Wachusett with the rest of her school on Friday.

Work is going well, kids are all relatively healthy.  Marc is doing wonderfully well at work, although staggeringly busy.  Staggeringly.  He’s just not home anymore.  Monday-Thursday – the guy is not here.  It’s not at all unusual for him to leave before the kids get up and not get home until after they get home.  The upside is that he’s mostly home from Friday afternoon thru Sunday – but not all the time.

So there’s just me, frantically running from place to place.  Trying to get the dishes done and the laundry folded, and feeling guilty because the kitchen floor needs to be swept and the living room needs to be vacuumed.  Meanwhile, Julianna can write all of her letters, but can’t identify seven or eight of them.

Sam’s got some health issues, his stomach is bothering him more and more.  Or is it just that we’re paying more attention to it now, so he thinks about it and focuses on it – so it’s becoming more of an issue.  He’s missing a lot of school – and Tuesday was a horrific hot mess getting him to school.  Horrible… but he went.  And, of course, was angelic and delightful all day long – I know his teacher thinks I’m a moron because she sees this blissful, content kid who, at his worst, talks too much and doesn’t always pay attention – and I’m saying, “no, no, this is a huge problem, he’s miserable and desperate to stay home.”  We’re going to the gastroenterologist tomorrow, his pediatrician thinks that it’s either Irritable Bowel Syndrome, or perhaps he’s only partially digesting lactose or fructose.  Or maybe it’s anxiety.  Nobody knows… all I know is that getting that kid to go to school is getting harder and harder.  Sometimes.  Most of the time, he’s an angel boy – wakes up early and happy, gets dressed and bops off to school like he owns the place.  Unless he’s not going – in which case, it’s hours of screaming and crying and fighting.  And there’s no rhyme or reason to it – no idea why sometimes he’s sick and throwing up with diarrhea, and sometimes he’s not.  Sometimes he’s all anxious and tense, and sometimes he’s blithe and unconcerned about everything.

Julie – my poor Julie.  Last week, her poor teacher told me that she was very quiet, and not engaged with the other kids – she won’t go play on the playground.  Today, she told me that she doesn’t think it’s anything really – Julie’s just not really in the mood to interact with her peers some days.  Perfectly happy to wander around with the teacher and chat as things occur to her, or just as happy to sit on the bench and watch everyone.  She’s just Julie, and Mrs. Gravel doesn’t think it’s any deep seated issue – it’s just a matter of what’s she’s in the mood for at the time.

Jessie is moving along – slowly – at her bat mitzvah.  The cantor told me that she’s really in a good place now – she’s just polishing at this point.  Which is such a relief – I’m so very tired of worrying about her bat mitzvah.  Now at least, I can move from worrying about her performance and into worrying about planning the damn party.

The laundry awaits – and Julie still isn’t in her jammies.  I suspect that Sam took his homework into his room, put it on his desk, and put on his audiobook.

 

Leave a reply

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong> 

required