We Cry A Lot Around Here

Last week...

Playing "I bet you can't catch me on film." I win.

Noah went to Kindergarten, The Unofficial Version, for one week.
It was, like, no big deal at all.
He didn't cry.
Neither did I.
Maybe it's the big yellow bus that triggers the crying?
Because I have cried about events far more benign than my oldest child leaving home to begin his career as a student.
Maybe there's something wrong with me.

Can you believe she's nearly four?

Greta left the door open.
The dog ran away.
I growled that I hated him and that he would probably get hit by a car.
I probably also said some words that a three year old shouldn't have heard.
Good thing she's almost four.
Greta cried.
She declared that she had always loved him (?!?!) and that now we would have to get a new dog.
But could we please get a small one?
The big dog came home on his own.

I hit a parenting wall.
Not the screaming-at-my-children-in-public kind of wall.
More the I've-completely-checked-out-of-this-family-and-shut-down-emotionally kind.
Far worse.
I didn't even realize it until the grandma swooped in and took Noah and Greta away for a day.
Thank God for swooping grandmas.
Kevin got up with the dog while the baby and I stayed in bed until ten am Saturday morning.
Thank God for Kevin.
I feel better now.

Magdalene smiled.
I asked her if it was for me.
She smiled again.
I cried.