So the part-time single-mom thing. Remember, after three weeks I said it was okay? And then DrBob came home for my birthday weekend, and then he went back to London for two days. Then he was home for the Sniglet’s birthday weekend, and then he was gone again. And ack. So the new version is: it’s okay when he’s gone, and it’s okay when he’s here, but the transitions are killing me. When he came home there was no food, because I’d adapted to kid cuisine and much smaller meals. Now he’s gone and I’m still making gigantic salads and wondering if I can find some neighborhood raccoons to feed all these leftovers to.
We’ve developed two different routines, and both routines are fine, but it takes us a day or two to make the switch. When he’s only gone for two days, or only here for two days, it’s very disorienting.
Song du jour of the day: I Can’t Stand Up (For Falling Down), by Elvis Costello.