It is amazing what one beer and good takeout Indian food can do for one's state of mind!
It has been an unexpectedly hard week. It started off well - with a holiday from school spent in splendor at the playground; the weather being fabulous. Followed by one of my all time favorite lunches (Texas French Bread) and then an afternoon of knitting on a sofa while the kids amused themselves. (and Sinda made me dinner!)
After that, the days of the week blurred together. Smith has been working on a new project (here in town thankfully she says at first) and his hours have been long: dark to dark. There was one morning when I woke up, belatedly and bleary-eyed, with kids running amok in the kitchen. How did it get to be so late? Where was dad? How long has he been gone? Did he come home even? I vaguely remembered his form on the bed during one of the late-night visits to J. (yes. I know I gotta night wean, but man, I'm just too tired.)
And while Smith is working in town and that means that he's home to sleep and to kiss me goodbye in the morning, I'd almost (ALMOST) prefer he was out of town. Then I would KNOW that he wasn't coming home. I could count on that. I could shift into that "it's all me" mode instead of thinking: maybe he'll be home just late for dinner? maybe he'll be home to help with the bath? maybe he'll be home for stories? So by the end of each day, I was just feeling extra worn out.
By Friday, I was snapping at the kids for using their markers "wrong." So when Smith called and asked what he could stop and get anything on the way home, I opted for a beloved yet infrequently visited Indian restaurant. The kids got whatever I could unearth in the fridge. It was delicious. A delight to my senses. (and that beer helped too.)