Berta has now been gone on a work trip for two days, leaving me with the kids.
It’s not as horrible as I could make it out to be. I could, for instance, mention that Abby handed Riley one of the soft sugar cookies (those things will be what truly killed me in the end), and he proceeded to rub the icing into the brand new couch. Or the NFL-style tackle “hugging” of the 1-year-old by his older sister, bouncing his poor noggin off the living room floor. Or the screaming fits that ensue whenever I try to use the bathroom. (Yes, please consider how awful it would be if every time you went to pee, someone stood outside the door and wouldn’t stop screaming, and then when you came out, acted as if nothing odd occurred.)
Contrary to all that, there are a whole lot more fun things we’ve done that Berta’s been away than there have been things to complain about. Abby and I have been building a volcano (I hope to have photos of the completed work online when it’s done), and talking about how to add money. Tomorrow, we’re planning on learning how to play Blackjack while the last bit of paint dries on the Volcano.
Riley has his own little quirks. He’s been getting up in the morning and insisting on watching TV while wrapped up in two of his knit blankies. Not one. Two. Fortunately, he doesn’t want to watch TV all day. He’s kind of self-regulating. When he’s done, he climbs down and starts grabbing toys to play with. In the evening, he’s not that interested in TV at all.
But no, that’s not what’s killing me.
I am staying up too late. It is 12:30am as I write this. And that’s really putting a dent in my sleeping this week.
I’m doing it, of course, because I’m not getting enough time between work and kid’s bed time to dabble in the computer stuff that I normally do. And so not only am I staying up later than I should, I’m truncating the time I have with the computer quite a bit (or at least seeming so, which has somewhat of the same effect), which leaves things undone, leading to stress and a cascade failure of vital organs.
The deathly acid reflux rears it’s head again.
With berta’s absence mixed in with work goings on, it’s not really shocking. The stuff at work isn’t even that stressful. Sometimes it’s imaginative and thoughtful. Sometimes it requires all of my patience not to rip all my hair out. The level of stress isn’t high, but the frequency of fluctuation is.
All of that is ok, though. This weekend is the usual monthly Philadelphia WordPress Meetup, followed by the Philadelphia Weblogger’s Meetup, all taking place once again at the fabulous Fergie’s Pub, home of errant Santas and Irish dancing.
Berta will be back by then, but won’t be able to make it, since someone’s got to watch the kids, and I can’t very well not attend the meeting I “organize” (very loosly used, I admit). There will be beer and podcasting. I expect to enjoy it.
And if that doesn’t kill me, then my luck should run well for the drive home on the Schuylkill, too. Whee!
