Once again I find myself trying to get this in before the end of the day... Maybe this is my writing pattern and I should embrace it, instead of fighting it.
This is the thing though, the days just seem to disappear. Especially the weekend days. I start the day with a million and two things to do, and by the end of the day, I still have a million on my list. Today, Delia wasn't feeling well, and even though nothing really seemed to be wrong and she wasn't running a fever, she still threw up. She felt much better afterwards, of course, because you always do, but there is no way to convince an eight year old, or even a forty-eight year old, that that is true, until they've yiffed, and feel incredibly relieved.
Still, I got our bedroom closet in shape, and moved the stuff we had been storing in our room into new storage places. I threw away a bunch of stuff-- old mail, daily school papers, unusable craft items-- and that always makes me feel like I've done something. I cleaned the girls room, partly because I was afraid to face the onslaught of genuine contagious illness with the room still a multi-layered mess.
Everything is easier to face without clutter. I know, because I've faced lots of things, usually in clutter.
And of course, I had that nagging, back of the mind worry about the kids being sick that doesn't actually have anything to do with the kids. I had to be thinking about what I would do if Delia was really sick and couldn't go to school tomorrow. Because I have to work every day this week. How's that gonna work? No sick days, no personal days, because actually, I work part-time.
I have been working more at the bike shop post office lately, and find that, though I am glad to have the extra money, I really feel cranky about having to be there so much. What a first world whine, right? "Oh poor me, I have to go to work almost forty hours a week." I know that, given the economy and my circumstances, I should be happy to have a job close to home. But still, I feel like I can't get anything else done, and I feel like, after all those years of going to school, maybe having a full-time, low-paying, relatively menial job is not what I signed up for. And I can't stand the fact that I worry about more than the kids when they look like they might be getting sick.Especially for a job like this, where my main contribution to the betterment of the world is the smooth acceptance of items for the mail. I hate that I hope they're not really sick so I don't have to call out, and I won't lose the pay, which I'll really need if they're sick. My head spins sometimes.
And yet... now the kids are in bed, and I'm headed there soon myself. And we all had enough to eat, and even though I had to borrow some money, we paid our rent yesterday. It was a beautiful day here in Phoenix, because the weather has cooled to the seventy degree temperatures we love to enjoy while much of the rest of the country starts thinking about where their snow boots are and whether or not they have salt to throw on the front walk in the morning. When Delia wasn't feeling sick, she was playing with Fiona on the balcony in the fresh air. They must have gone ten whole minutes before the bickering started.
So yeah, it was a great day off. Glad I got to write about it. Hope you all had a good Sunday too.