a post in which I talk of many things that truly indicate not much at all…

First things first, thank you to the blogland cheer squad. Your collective ‘go Kim’ is ever so appreciated, although it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable as any compliment or vote of support/confidence does.

Seriously guys, I’m just doing what we all do, it’s just all of you post on far more interesting things like holiday by the sea, engage in craft projects, knit, garden, read and the like, leaving the detritus of your day to the privacy of your own homes. My dirty laundry is really all I’ve got so you guys get to bear witness to it time and time again.
I feel like I’m starting to relax just a smidge with this new reality. The simmering panic of having them all on my own is still there, even though it is now more the norm than not. While I am gagging for school to go back (Tuesday folks) the notion of school pick up and then the school night routine punishment hellfest is making me feel ill.

It has only been in the last two days that I look at Grover and do that melting thing. Up until now while I’ve had the swelling harp music, fierce pride and absolute love, but that goodgy gooshy oh my god you.are.adorable. sentiment has only just arrived. I think this is because of how manic it’s been around here, how washed out I am and how tightly I’ve been wound for fear any unwinding will equate to me falling into my blackdogpit.
My goals for this term are:
– to read to the boys every night (in addition to their hideous readers from school) (and I can’t tell you how bad I feel that this doesn’t happen already.)
– to practice sounds with Oscar every.single.day. (and once more those those in the cheap seats, I can’t tell you how bad I feel that this doesn’t happen already.)
– to do more activities during the day when I’m home with Jasper – as in painting, craft (gag) (this afternoon I sat on the floor to play with him and he just sort of looked at me, then said “mama” as if to confirm it was not an apparition but really his Mama. On the floor. Playing. With him.)
Today marks 16 years for me and Chef. Pretty darn amazing huh.
And just to prove I’m not Wonder Woman, tonight the boys had chicken nuggets and fish fingers for dinner, with fried eggs.
My boobs, which have been holding up very nicely thank you, have all of a sudden, as in, overnight, gone cachunga! Leakage, lumps, paining, the works. And the baby? Who was hanging off them 48hours ago to clearly boost the amount he was getting, has now lost interest. Natch.