Between the Swine Flu and the Balloon Boy, I swear I just can’t take the news lately. I’m so worried about Sasha getting sick, or one of us (or both) getting sick, and it seems like every time I turn on the TV or computer there are more scary statistics. And the Balloon Boy, well, that just annoys me because I keep thinking about all the OTHER stories that we’re not hearing about because of this craziness. Might be time for one of my occasional full-on media disconnects. But not until after Glee tonight. I mean, I’m not THAT desperate.
In other news, tomorrow, I’m meeting with someone about cabinets for my new office. Can I say I am entirely too excited about this? Fellow office supply geeks can understand. I mean, I’m finally going to be able to get rid of all these beat up, melamine bookshelves I have trucked from house to house since I was an undergrad. I’ll have file drawers! And a neat bookshelf that isn’t sagging in the center (hopefully)! It will be more than bizarre to have a storage system that does not solely involve Rubbermaid bins and cardboard boxes. Wow.
I’m so excited about my office, but like most home improvement projects it has had an ebb and flow. Due to my builder being so busy with other jobs, it’s just kind of sat for the last few weeks, waiting to be trimmed out so we can do paint and carpet and all that stuff. Now, normally I’d be able to complain to my contractor about being dropped like this but…..he’s also my husband, and basically working for free, so I have to be patient. NOT my strong suit. Especially now that my daughter is in this SUPER clingy phase and keeps having total meltdowns whenever I leave her to go upstairs and work in the afternoons, even though I’ve been doing that since she was about six weeks old. It’s hard enough to write a novel. Writing one while your child screams bloody murder one floor below—even if it is only for about five minutes—is like an endurance challenge.
It hasn’t been the most shining week for me as a parent anyway. As many of you remember, I put Sasha in a playschool two mornings a week back at the end of August. Long story short, it wasn’t working out, so I decided to take her out this week. It was a really hard thing to do, because I basically had to admit I screwed up by putting her in a program she probably wasn’t ready for yet. Plus, there’s all the behavior changes it caused, like the clinginess and the nail biting and all this other stuff. It was bad enough being a perfectionist when it was just ME I had to worry about. Now I’m responsible for an entire other person’s mental health….well, suffice to say it ain’t easy. But I am doing my best, because, as all my friends who are parents say, that is all you can do. If you make a mistake, you regroup, pick yourself up, and move on. And on, and on…..