Monday, September 8, 2008

:: This is Hell. For both of us ::

But, for me anyway, nothing a big cup of coffee won't fix. Dean is gone to work at 5:30. He pushes a pencil until 1 pm, when he races over to the U of O until 5 or 6, then he either goes to Grand Slam to give lessons, or he runs to the gym for a quick workout before coming home, gobbling down some dinner and falling into bed.
I on the other hand, am back to the grind of being mother to my children; I got a whole year off from doing all the morning stuff, and all I can say is that I recognized it for the gift it was while it was happening, and knew it was going to come to a screeching halt at some point. That did not make this morning any easier. Last year, Dean took over the entire morning routine. He made sure they got breakfast, he made their lunches, he drove them to school. I often slept through the entire process, but occasionally dragged my bleary carcass to the couch to watch the magic happen. Almost immediately I recognized that it was simply my husband's way of feeling "useful" in the absence of a real job. (read one where you are out of the house by 7am) and figured I'd just let it be, though we did actually get into an argument one day about it, when he was feeling taken advantage of. (As soon as I stopped laughing, I explained to him what it was he was going through, and I never heard another word about it.) But now, he is working again, not loving it because he is not a numbers guy, but not complaining, because he has a new-found appreciation for steady income, and also because he gets to do what he loves from 1pm until he feels like coming home.

So now my bleary carcass is driving by braille* to Sheldon High School at 6am each morning, so that Chloe can go to zero period conditioning, then it's back to get Cooper off to school.

I love mornings.

A footnote: Dean was actually reminding me last night about all the things I needed to remember. I finally told him that I had been doing the very same thing for 9 months out of each year for the past 14 years, and that I was pretty sure it was a bit like riding a bike...and to kindly shut up. He looked a little put-out, but I think he realized I knew what I was doing. So don't tell him that neither kid got breakfast this (Cooper wanted to eat with his buddies at school, and Chloe packed a bagel because she didn't want to eat before working out.)

driving by braille: intentionally driving on the bumpy little reflectors in the road so that one can keep one's eyes closed for extended periods while driving.

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