While the snow piles might still be taller than I am in many places, and I still have to pause at every intersection to peer past the piles to see any on-coming traffic, I’m also in a pair of cut-offs and barefoot. Because it’s spring, dammit, and I’m all about if you dress for it, it will come. We’re supposed to hit the mid-fifties today, , and you can actually see grass on my lawn. Sort of.
Sam is home sick today, and I’m coming down with it. The dreaded cold, sore throat, sneezing and coughing. Julie is still sniffly and clingy. Jessie bounced out the door this morning, she’s been adamant that she can’t get sick because she doesn’t want to miss any school (and can we take a minute and just reflect on how AWESOME that is?).
Julie and I are writing together, she’s snuggled up next to me with her laptop. Her writing is going better than mine is, honestly – she just keeps clicking away and never stares off into space or wastes time on facebook. I’ve got a big long list of stuff I have to do today, and I’m not really doing any of it. Lazy day, I think. Maybe I’ll bake something brilliant or actually fold all the clean laundry. This weekend is going to be a frantic rush of running from one event to another, and the next several weekends are already booked up as well. There might be something slightly wrong about the way my life is structured, that my weekends are insanely hectic and a Wednesday is perceived as a day off. Especially when one of the kids is home sick – Sammy missing school meant that we had an extra hour or so to chill this morning, and the afternoon pick up process is going to take ten minutes instead of an hour and a half (the fact that I don’t have to pick up Harrison factors into that).
I wonder if it’s nice enough to dig Sam’s bike out of the back shed. Or if he’s feeling good enough to ride it.