As am I…
Rather than fill you in on the past six months, or fill you up with excuses like the fact that I was teaching five classes and thus responsible for 99 students (!), I’ll just tell you what happened today.
After a blissful day at home watching cartoons-on-demand (Henri) and blogging (mom-mom), we multi-tasked. Henri bathed, while I fed him and read books in preparation for nap. I then lathered him down with lotion as I have since he was a baby, despite protests from the boy who is no longer a baby. Next, we read a final book and he talked himself to sleep in the “family nap” bed.
An hour and a half later, he woke up. More specifically, he sat up and said, “I slept good.” L-U-V. Henri is never as sweet as when he’s slept good. So, I put him on my lap, got his shoes, and began to explain that we had to go see one of mommy’s doctors. “Are you sick?” he asked. “No, I just go to talk about my feelings.”
We then drive to the appointment, which took about 30 minutes thanks to 3:30 PM traffic (WTF!?!), and–after a brief stop at Payless in which mom-mom got some awesome slipper shoes that are oh-so-cozy–we went into the building where my therapist is. “We’re just going to walk up these stairs, and all the way down the hall,” I explain. “How do you feel?” he responds. How do I feel? “You mean, what am I going to talk to my doctor about?” He nods his head. “Oh, I feel pretty good, I guess.” (And I do.)
Later, on the way home, after a backseat exclamation of “This is fun!” (“It is? I’m glad you like it…”), he says, “I want to hear that ‘I can’t stomp’ song.” I think for a minute, trying to come up with a kids CD that has song about stomping on it.
“The What Song?” I stall.
“The ‘I can’t STOMP song!'”
“Ohhhhhh…. the “I can’t stop song…?”
“Yeah. I can’t stomp.”
So, I find Ratitude, pop it in, turn it up, and sing at the top of my lungs all the way home, grateful for a kid who likes Weezer and those times when, really, my life is a party I don’t want to leave. Did I forget to mention we’d also picked up cupcakes?