Category : Daily Life
There was this game I hated at intermediate school. Some mean kid would say, ‘think fast’ and on the ‘think’ they’d toss a basketball, hard, straight at your nose.
Good for your reflexes.
Or bad for your face.
I wouldn’t give this mild form of bullying much credit for my ability to adapt. But I do adapt pretty fast. Or I fake it well.
I had grand illusions that this week would be back-on-schedule and über productive. My health is almost in the clear, my kids are back in school/nursery and there’s french class and writer’s group for motivation… plus spring weather (ie. outside play, less stir-crazy kids, and happy me…
Enjoying the spring weather – at Rambouillet Forest yesterday.
I hadn’t decided which writing project I’d be working on for my two or four writing hours each day (while the kids nap/go to school), but I was determined this week would be productive.
And then Luuk got word that he’s off to Japan for a week. Yep, he leaves tomorrow. And maybe, as far as the day-time schedule goes it won’t make much difference to my week. He’s usually at work during my two or four hours of writing-time anyway.
It’s possible I will be more productive. I might spend another couple of hours in the evenings, pounding away at the keyboard, instead of watching television or playing a board game.
Or I might collapse on the couch and fall asleep with my ipad on my face, inadvertently turning pages of an e-book with each snorty breath.
The mornings will be rough. The kids are used to getting up with their dad anytime from 6am. I get another hour’s doze. I’m hopeful, of course, naive optimist that I am. I will try to wrangle it – sleeping in a kid’s bed perhaps. Or just plonking them in front of early-morning television. But no food till 7.30.
There’s always the dream that this one week of pre-7am neglect will break them out of their pre-7am habit. About bloody time.
The evenings might be rough. At my antenatal class, they called it the witching hour. But it’s more like two hours. From 5 till 7pm, the kids might be in the tired sweet-spot: cool and calm and lazy. They might happily vegetate on the sofa while I make dinner.
Happily vegetating, with the kids, on the sofa
But slightly more or less tired than that, and they want me, constantly, actively, and competitively. In which case, dinner burns or comes late (and possibly on a motorbike, in a box).
Luuk and I will be doing our wedding anniversary apart (a first – for our 7th) but he’ll be back in time to babysit… so that I can go to a Backstreet Boys concert (you read that right. Yep.)
Timing can’t be helped. He is the layer 3 support guy for a particular flavour of networking software, and when networks go down they need him ASAP. So he’s on a plane tomorrow.
Y’never know, it might all be very civilized and easy.
It could happen.