I really hate waiting. And I want to say I especially hate waiting for something I’m anxious for, but isn’t that the very definition of waiting? If you weren’t wrapped up in thoughts of it, waiting, it wouldn’t really be “waiting”, would it? Apparently I also tend to get wordy about silly things when I am hurry-up-and-wait-ing.
J is apparently feeling better, as evidenced by the two time-outs she got herself into before we even left the house. I mean… the energy for disobedience and arguing has to come from somewhere, right? On one hand I was GRAWWWR about it, but once I got to work and my hair settled down and my heart rate returned to normal and I saw things in regular color pallets instead of through a red tinge, I decided since she has the mental wherewithal to defy me, that means she must be inching ever closer to “normal” as far as her health, and that is good. (and, you know, I am being hyperbolic up there).
In all the crazy, put your shoes on now I am not telling you again!, rushing out the door haste, I totally forgot her lunch. It was another one of those &@^% moments initially, but then I decided it was a good thing. We’d go on a lunch date and sort of cancel out our morning. We’d laugh and share chicken nuggets. Hopefully.
Her sister is with my mother-in-law today, and said MIL called a bit ago and offered to take J this afternoon too for lunch and naps and etc. So we will be doing that instead!
There really is nothing better for an emotional, clashing, my mommy won’t listen to me! morning than a good dose of Grandma, right? And for me, coffee. Make mine a triple shot breve.