Mama alone

Here's what a supportive wife I am. Husband was getting in his car this morning, heading to the Tennessee mountains to scatter his parents' ashes, along with his brother who flew in to Knoxville earlier this week from Colorado. Husband was giving me some last minute instruction about the listing-service-that-is-not-a-Realtor and I said to him, "My head is about to explode. Could we just stop talking and have you go?" Nice.

I'm on my second glass of wine now, trying to come down from another hellishly busy day. Bean has mostly settled down after 20 minutes of struggling against sleep in her crib. The weaning isn't going well for Bean. She misses me, even though during what used to be nursing time, we cuddle together and I let her drink some diluted juice while we read a story in the comfy, overstuffed nursing chair in her room. It's just not the same for her.

Sister's last day of 2nd grade was today, and she brought home another lovely report card. I say "another" as if it was some beautifully consistent habit of hers to do this. In fact, it's her 2nd one ever, and I'm very grateful to her teacher this year for understanding her in a way that her 1st grade teacher didn't. Those two just could not make it work, and what a revelation it was to me that teacher antagonism could start that early in a kid's schooling. It can! Even the littlest kids are full-fledged, personality-laden little entities who sometimes just don't get along with certain other bitchy, personality-laden entities. I'm just saying this in case any of you are under the impression that early childhood education is all sweetness and light and teddy bear tea parties and wear your pajamas to school day and stuff.

But anyhow, this blog entry is taking the tone of a journal entry, which is to say that it has no appeal to those of you who don't know me very well at all. So I'll shut up now. And go have a third glass of wine.