My head is killing me, and it’s my own damn fault.  I was too polite to refuse a cup of coffee at dinner last night, and because drinking coffee at seven thirty is never a recipe for a good night’s sleep, spent most of the night staring up on the ceiling panicking about money.  Which is what one does, in the middle of the night, right?  To mix it up a little, I also stressed out over Sam’s anxiety issues, Jessie’s allergies and Julie’s separation freak out at preschool.

I’m not happy today.

But I’m treating it with ice cream and advil, and yeah, more coffee.  Because as soon as Marc gets home from picking up Girlfriend at preschool, I’m going to launch into super productive mode, and drop Marc off at work, pick Sam up at school, take Jessie to the pediatrician’s office for her allergies (because she sounds so gross and congested I wouldn’t want to sit next to her at school), pick up Harrison, come home, cook dinner, feed them, drop Harrison off, pick Marc up and then go to the PTG meeting.  Late.

Marc and I had a nice talk last night, and he’s going to try and be more… anticipatory?  Is that the right word?  He’s always willing to help out, but sometimes he relies too much on just doing what I instruct him, which can almost feel like more work than just doing it myself.  Which leads, inevitably, to things getting missed and not done, and me feeling overwhelmed and like I’m really crappy at parenting.  This morning – Julie, again, woke up sobbing because she didn’t want to go to preschool.   But Marc handled it – just handled it, which was AWESOME, because I was too busy trying to figure out if Jessie was sick enough to stay home or not.  He told her a long involved story, which distracted her from being miserable and even managed to get her shoes on.  And dropoff went relatively well.  Because relative to other drop offs that we’ve had, this was was good.  She was crying but walking on her own.  Not begging me to stay, just sobbing quietly.  I called and checked on her, and she was doing great, even sitting at the table for snack (which was extra good, as she refused to eat any kind of breakfast this morning).

Sam was even a little bit late this morning – not really, but late enough so that he couldn’t go out back and play, just went directly into class.  And it was a non-issue.  He didn’t freak, didn’t panic.  Definitely reassuring.

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