I am pleased to report that there have been no further poocidences since last weekend, I’m happy to move forward and to stop talking about it for as long as possible. Or at least until something awful happens again and I feel the need to share it with everyone.
And so, on that note, moving on!
It’s been a mostly uneventful week here. Vince went to school, Eleanor and I did a lot of laundry, I watched a bunch of ridiculous shows on NetFlix like Charmed and old seasons of 24. I went back to the gym this week and actually ran on the treadmill, which was glorious. Most of my stamina is still there, now I just have to whip those muscles back into shape.
(** sidenote: I’m amazed at how quickly the laundry quadruples in a household that has just recently added a fourth family member. I might as well do laundry all day every day in order to keep up with it)
Anyways, the big eventful thing that is about to take place is that next week is Vince’s last week of daycare for the school year. Typically he would stay in school until the beginning of June and then Edward would keep him home all summer while he’s on summer break. But this year, to save some extra moolah, I’ll spend the latter half of my maternity leave with both kids.
As Edward keeps telling me: “Mothers all around the world do this, you can too!!” (Note the hyper positive tone and the exclamation marks. Gah.)
At first I was OK with it, nervous, but OK. And then that degenerated in to a full blown panic/spazz attack earlier this week. I literally lost my damn mind. Or at least that’s what it seems like when I look back on it. In a retrospective last night on the event, Edward pretty much told me that I was a hormonal basketcase.
My argument was that I was concerned about Vince being out of school for so long, then back in for the three week period of time between the end of my maternity leave and the beginning of E’s summer vacation. And then back out again. When we kept him home over winter break this past Christmas season, the return to school was hellacious. Everything that we’d worked towards behavior-wise was erased when he went back in January. It took weeks to get things back into some semblance of normality. It was horrible and emotional and I hated every single morning when I had to drop him off.
So I was concerned about that 3 week period of time and I argued really fervently with Edward about it, until finally he said: “If you don’t want to keep him home with you, that’s a decision you are going to have to make on your own.”
(Really, I think he’d given up arguing with me)
And faced with the need to actually decide something by myself, it, well, it made me back down from the issue and re-examine my problems with it. And with the internal scrutiny came the realization that I was, indeed, a total basketcase.
To be clear, I am just using that phrase in a joking manner. I’m emotional as a woman anyways and definitely have been more so since the birth of our second child. I also get less sleep. I am more content. I am highly flammable. And nobody knows it more than me. I am highly aware these days of what my mind and body is doing and thinking, more so when it is doing and thinking things that pre-pregnancy me wouldn’t do. In a way, I’m hyper-aware…
Which is both good and bad. Good to be embracing ones emotions full-on and being in touch and in tune with oneself. And bad because my very nature means that I hyper-analyze every single nuance in every tone in every persons voice. Oh, and am incapable of stopping. Aren’t I the super funnest?
So I reflected honestly on myself and the situation. And that is something that is frackin’ hard to do. Especially to do and then reflect again on those results and to be honest with oneself while doing it.
End result? Basketcase.
It’s so hard when your internal voice of reason wins. Bah.
Anyways, so Thursday will be Vincent’s last day of school. Right before Easter Break and he’ll be back in August when the school year starts up again.
So I mentally have a daily schedule drawn up and I have a few work books and Edward and I have this goal where by the end of the summer Vincent is reading. Good plan, no?
I think the next few weeks will be terribly interesting and I am rather curious to see how things progress. Although I think at that time I’ll be thinking something like ‘Screw you curiosity!’ and giving the random air the finger (because clearly that’s where curiosity is located).
Or perhaps I’ll be pleasantly surprised, my son will be angelic and also magically reading at a 12th grade level by the end of the summer.
I am going to avoid hyper-analyzing the previous sentence and instead just take it at face value.
So with my last week of freedom upon me (and funny how it’s freedom to stay home with an infant, but not with a preschooler), I vow to make the most of it. So endless Charmed, 24 and whatever other garbage I can find on NetFlix, plus as much gym time as I can squeeze in. And hopefully a few naps.