Preludes And Nocturnes

So I’ve been a little off the radar lately.  Probably most of you heard about the little 3 year old boy taken from his home in southern BC earlier this month.  That totally f’ed me up.  Seemed to kick my PPD anxiety issues into full-gear. Then, in one weekend, so much changed.  He was returned.  There.  Home.  And while people are asking all kinds of questions, all I really care about is that he is home with his family and not hurting.

I have also been working like crazy.  I took two contracts this term in my eternal quest to find out if someone might actually just HIRE me as a regular employee.  In an interesting twist, I’ve reached the end of week two and seem to be hitting a strange OTT stride in keeping on top of it all.  I think when you are this busy something happens and you just don’t worry about minor things since you don’t have TIME to worry about them (here I’m talking about the floors and the fact that laundry will never ever see the inside of the closet this term.  Wash it, hang it up to dry, grab it from downstair when time to get dressed.  Unders, socks, and bras kept in basket in the playroom next to washer.

Malcolm is settling into his new room.  I, as always, have issues with some things - but in all I think they’re good.  I just feel that they stress skills that aren’t necessary yet.  If he were 4 or 5 and going into kindy, that would be different.  But he is three.  In all, this has led to me saying things like “you know what, I think he can just bring his teddy to school if he wants to” in that mom voice.  You know that voice, right?  I am *that* mom. Tough thing is that we don’t have any big daycares for 3y olds.  Everything switches to “preschool” and I think that is lame.  In all, his room is great and their “preschooling” involves such things as running through water in the play yard, painting, dancing, dress-up, and trains.  It was the cutest thing ever, though, when he came home the other day and said “hey mom, bonjoo means hello.”  They’re learning a few french words.  So now he’ll starting singing little songs in french and saying bonjoo to his bears.

And, in the biggest change of them all, I am now an auntie.  I’m amazed at how much seeing little tiny baby Hazel brings back all those days to me when we first had Malcolm on the outside.

(Name that band for bonus cookies)

So here I sit on a lovely warm Tuesday morning, and I waffle.  I have five boxes positioned strategically around the house each half filled with STUFF.  I have an old vacuum on the back deck.  I have four bags of books and toys in the back of the red car (now we have two cars, they are named by colour).  Yes, summer purge is in full swing.

But see, tomorrow is first day of classes and I’m kinda teaching full time at two different schools so that is a little more… demanding than usual.  You know, because usually I’m such a calm cucumber when it comes to planning and getting ready for school.  So I am at my computer trying to finish up prep for the coming term.

Then I get distracted (I see a random knick-knack that no longer needs to live in my house) and I go over and put it into one of the many handy boxes.  I empty out a kitchen cupboard and consider if the three year old oatmeal I bought for that one month I was eating oatmeal is still good.  Or even if it is good, would I eat it?

Then I come back to my computer and plug in one more document to one more folder for one more class.

Then I think that the backyard looks really nice with the light breeze and the … overgrown grass and DEAR GOD I MUST MOW IT NOW!

I’ll either be super productive or you can check with me in five hours and I’ll be watching my PVR’d episode of bachelor pad.