Joseph is always exhausting, but this evening especially so. From about 6 on, he was plain berserk, racing around the house like a Mad Baby, throwing stuff, screaming bloody murder when Katie wouldn't let him swipe her glasses off her face (and yes, she has glasses now - nifty little wire rims. She looks like such a brainy young lady, sitting there on the couch in her glasses, nose buried in a book.). Around 8, he just started wailing, and even though it was a mite early, I started The Process, which lasted until about 9:30, with several back and forths from our bed to his, stories, water, and lots of tossing and turning. Why not just throw him in his bed and let him cry, you ask? Because he'll cry so hard that he'll throw up, that's why. Which he did tonight after I thought he'd fallen asleep and had tiptoed out to quiz Katie on her social studies and continue through the Gospel of Mark with her...I didn't hear him weeping until he was well into it, which means, quite simply, he was a mess. At least I hope that's why he threw up, because if there's another reason, I swear to heaven I am never, ever going to say, "Gee, this writing project is going so well...I have all the time in the world.." AGAIN.
But anyway. Michael's feeling poorly,so he's also retired, everyone else is in bed or puzzling over calculus, and you know what? It's still Monday.
Grown-ups saving kids:
Hang on to your kids, and watch out for each others', too..