Friday, August 31, 2007
This week could be called The Week of Adjustment. Monday found me starting the second week of my going-to-the-gym routine, and Reed had his first day of preschool (Note his oh-so-proud smile). When we got to his school, he hung up his coat, put his backpack in his cubby, and said, "Bye, Mom!" in a cheery voice. I hadn't expected it to be so easy for him! So, with a bit of a lump in my throat, I asked, "But....can I have a kiss?" He said (just as cheerfully) "Sure!" planted a big one on me, and then walked into the class without a backward glance. Wednesday was the only day he had any apparent nerves. He said, "Mom, I don't want to stay here today." And I explained that this was something we'd be doing for a long time yet, four days a week. I offered to stay a couple more minutes, and before five minutes were out, he forgot all about his nerves.
I'm somewhat at a loss as for what to do with this 3 hours and 45 minutes of less demanding time. The first day, I just wandered around the house while Jaxon and Savanna slept, doing completely pointless things like straightening pillows and re-arranging papers that were already in a neat stack. And now that I've finished the seventh in the Harry Potter series (J.K. Rowling is a genius!), I no longer have that as an excuse for passing the time. I suppose I could clean. Or organize. Or sleep. But I find that I'm paralyzed, not wanting to move off the couch until I'm sure I'll enjoy the chosen use of those hours.
Isn't it nice to be needed so badly? Isn't it nice and exhausting and overwhelming and exhilarating and rewarding?