A week off

The boy flew to Canada with his robotics team, the man flew to North Carolina, and Zenny immediately came down with a high fever. She has a history of seizures with fever, so I've had to keep a close eye on her and keep the meds on schedule, which has meant NO SLEEP. My brain can't shut off if it knows I have to get up in a few hours to check temps/medicine, and I've been keeping the bedroom door open at night to listen for sounds of distress, so the cats have been trampolining off my face every time I get close to sleep. My mother came up to watch the girl on Saturday so I could go to work and perform story time. Some weeks the story time group is small and sweet, with toddlers singing and clapping. Some weeks it is a huge mosh pit of screaming and biting, with staff scrambling to find extra crafts because we planned for 24 (the average number of kids is 22) and 60 showed up. It was the Mad Max kind of story time, and I ran for it as soon as the last craft was snatched up.

The boy's team won the Canadian regional, qualifying them for Worlds, and he flew home with a suitcase full of Aero bars and Smarties in the middle of the night. The highway was pretty empty at that hour, and I was screaming along to Black Sabbath to keep myself awake. He was waiting by the curb, sweating in the puffy jacket he was too cool to take off, and on the way home he kept me laughing with stories about how the robot jammed in a critical match and everyone panicked, the autonomous mode went awry and shot projectiles everywhere except the goal, and how good a hot shower felt after freezing to the bone. (It was 40 degrees. The Canadian teams were enjoying the warm weather in shorts and t-shirts, and our kids were in puffer coats, excited to run through every melting puddle of slush.) I love having him home. With the extra set of ears in the house, I was able to close the bedroom door and sleep 5 hours uninterrupted. I am as fresh as the day-old bread bin at the grocery store.

No red flags from the man so far. His brother flaked and didn't join them, but Mike and his sister have been making their dad laugh hard enough for his wife to get upset that they might rupture his aneurism. The man has MS, cancer, and ballooning arteries; he hasn't walked in 15 years, and he's spending the end of his life far from family in a VA hospital. Let him die laughing if he wants. A few weeks ago, their dad had talked to his sister on the phone about his favorite memories of them growing up, and how much he missed the apple pie and cheddar cheese their mom used to make on holidays. His current wife won't let their mom see him or call him to say a last goodbye, so MIL baked an apple pie and sent it along with his sister. When they sliced it up and gave him a piece, he leaned his head back and said it was just as delicious as their mother's pie. He cried a bit when they told him it was from her. That piece of pie said everything. I remember the good times, too. I love you. I forgive you. Goodbye. I think that is pretty beautiful. 

He gets back in a few days. I think it'll be a green light to book those tickets soon.