The Cave Troll had six zillion melt downs this week, and Arwyn got called on being ‘princessy’ three out of four days in the week. There was really only one solution:
A day off. They slept in, and Ladybug got to sit next to me, singing the Powerpuff theme while I caught that last ten minutes. I remember when my other kids were this little, and I had just gone back to work–I used to just power them through these stages, and pray that I was doing the right thing. It wasn’t much of a decision, because Mate was still in school and I was the main breadwinner and I didn’t have tenure. I remember crying all the way to work a lot more then than I do now, so I guess the Mental Health Day really does serve it’s purpose.
Anyway, I’ve made breakfast, taken steps to clean the kitchen, blown bubbles and read books and given lots and lots of hugs. If I can just shake that nagging desire to go to the far away LYS for some more of that squishy rainbow yarn (it’s so loosely spun it’s almost roving) that the kids love so much, I might be able to keep the Mental Health Day all about mooching about the house and watching the same @#$%ing movie 6,567,983 times in a row. (Disney’s ‘The Wild’– if it wasn’t for the fact that Kiefer Sutherland’s voice is making me horny and Eddie Izzard’s is helping to keep me that way, I’d say it’s the worst movie ever made.)
Anyway, the only bad thing about giving yourself a day off is that you become the world’s most boring human: no book stats to report (sales are so slow I’m thinking that the entire ‘Amy Lane’ market has been tapped and I might as well give up now), no English weenie teachers to talk about…just me and the house grunion, fighting a multi-front war against detritus. If it wasn’t for the pscycho-kitten attacking my feet, I’d say we were all dying of boredom.
Of course, the truth would be closer to the fact that we’re catching up on our sleep. I’ll try for some WIP & FO pix…and maybe some charming pictures of my goombahs and their boogers (because there isn’t enough filth on the internet as it is…) but first I’m gonna see what sort of crap is under this row of chairs in the back of my kitchen…
And the only way I’ll report back on that is if it’s an acceptance letter that got lost in the mail. We all have our priorities, after all.