My last grandparent died. My dad’s mother, last night. This deserves more than a bullet, but that will have to wait. She was 92. The last two years of her life were not quality years.
I would describe parts of my life right now as being forced to wear a wool sweater when you have the chicken pox–or sunburn–whichever feels most uncomfortable. I want to take the sweater off, but then I’d be naked. And that’s kind of scary.
I would describe other parts of my life as being on the upward slope of a roller coaster. I can feel the excitement building; it’s gonna be fun. But I might also throw up.
Why aren’t there 28 hours in a day? Seriously, just a few extra and I’d be good. I could get the laundry done, read that article I want to read, AND get some extra sleep.
My youngest is bored at school. Sigh.
My oldest was asked to write the alphabet over and over in . . . social studies.
I’m going to have to write to some teachers/principals. Not really looking forward to that.
Single parenting this week. Sigh. I miss Mr. Geeky.