So the thing that was getting me down in my last entry was the supportive-listening imbalance that is currently a feature of my marriage – that is, DrBob and I talk every day, and I hear about his classes and meetings, and then when it’s my turn to vent, he notices that he’s hungry and there’s soccer on TV and he has to go now (I swear he doesn’t know he’s doing it). And the injustice of it was rankling terribly, but then I got over it. Given time, I generally do.
Thing is, his new job is quite stressful, but it’s all new and exciting stress. My job is stressful, but not new – I was a single mom during the week last year too – and even when it was new, it was not at all interesting. He’s all, “I met my second-in-command today for the first time,” and I’m all, “Cool. I managed to feed the kids four whole meals today! And not all of them were spaghetti!” I mean, seriously. I bore myself.
Well, this afternoon Ignatz had a bike crash. He has an alarming, bruised swelling forming a parenthesis around his left eye, and a scraped shoulder. The blurry vision and nausea have passed, he fell asleep during the day (he’s done that maybe four times since he gave up napping at age 2, and it always meant he was sick), and I am keeping him under careful observation. Yes, I think it was a mild concussion, and I’m sure he’s okay now, but I’ll probably take him to the doctor tomorrow, just to reassure myself.
Um, Universe? I’m sorry for complaining. I’d like the boring back, please.
Song du jour of the day: The Worrying Kind, by the Ark.