This is yet another week dotted with “half-days,” those portions of school days that leave moms everywhere wanting more.  Since my daughter is enrolled in kindergarten for half-days to start with, the half-day schedule results in kindergarteners coming only on every other half-day.  Except this week, which was conference week and therefore, for some reason, no school for half-day kindergarten students.  Are you confused yet?

The bottom line is that she had no school on Wednesday or Thursday, and so today I was happy that she’d be going back to school so I could use those two and a half hours to run some quick errands before the weekend.  However, yesterday she had a cough and complained of a mild sore throat.  (I canceled a playdate because of it.)  She didn’t sleep well last night–fell asleep right after her bath at 7:15 p.m., then woke up half an hour later, slept at 9 p.m., woke up half an hour later, then finally slept at 10 p.m.  She woke up before 6 a.m., then crawled into bed with me at 7 a.m.

I considered not waking her up for school, but today they’d be exchanging Valentine’s cards.  When she woke at 8 a.m., I was relieved.  She seemed fine–no more sore throat–but still had the cough.  However, she took a shower, got dressed in her purple “heart” shirt, and was ready for school.  I tucked my cell phone number into her backpack, just in case.

I dropped her off at almost 9 a.m. and just as I approached the grocery store at 10:30 a.m., my very cool iPhone rang.  Grace wasn’t feeling very well (no temperature, however) and wanted me to pick her up.

So, no errands.  I turned the car around and picked her up.  That is why we have no bread.

She spent most of the day snuggled in bed.  At some point, she seemed a little feverish, but by tonight her skin was no longer radiating heat.  She wanted to call her friend and invite him over . . . but I said no.  When he called, I told him she was sick and couldn’t play.  (She has no idea so don’t tell her.)

This afternoon, she came downstairs to cry in my arms.  “I just want you,” she said.  I was working so I suggested that she lay on the couch under a blanket and watch a show so we could be in the same room.  Instead, she wanted me to carry her upstairs, so I cradled my 50-pound girl in my arms and lugged her upstairs, thinking that one of these times will be the last time I carry her.

I have no idea the last time I lifted my 10-year old son or my 15-year old twins.  It’s so strange that a milestone passes without any notice whatsoever and then you realize that you never ever do something that you used to do all the time.  I used to lay down with my twins to get them to sleep, every single night . . . and then one night was the last night I ever did that.  I used to wrestle around with my youngest son on the floor, but then one night was the last time.

One day, I imagine my baby girl won’t want me like she wants me now.  Carrying her up the stairs like I did tonight will be a memory.  But at least I didn’t bump her head on the wall because then it would be a bad memory.

1)  Children who are awake between the hours of 9 p.m. and 7 a.m.

2)  Dust.

3)  The kitty-litter box.

5)  Running out of fat-free popcorn.

6)  Indecisive drivers.

7)  Trash not deposited in the trash can.

It SNOWED today.  That’s just wrong.  This is the Pacific Northwest where daffodils are beginning to appear and where the scent of freshly cut grass wafted into my van the other day.  Snow is just wrong, even if it is February.  If I wanted snow in February I might still live in Michigan. Also?  The fish still lives, though it lists a little to the right.  Poor fishy.

Tomorrow my daughter has no kindergarten again because it’s time for conferences.  The other kids have half-days.

That explains why I am answering email and writing a blog at 1:25 a.m.  I can sleep in tomorrow morning.  (My ten year old is so self-sufficient, it’s amazing.)

I half expect school to be canceled entirely because the roads will freeze tonight, thus paralyzing our entire town.

Wouldn’t that be lovely?  We’ll all be stuck at home and the only ones who will suffer are the three cats who need new kitty litter in a desperate way.

One of our four Beta Fish is swimming erratically.  It swims as if it has helium in its tiny belly, flapping its lacy fins, trying not to turn sideways.

I am alarmed and I would do CPR or offer oxygen to this little creature, but of course, it’s a $3.59 fish from Wal-Mart and I have no magical powers of healing for fish.  Poor thing.  The other fish in the container (divided by an opaque blue plastic panel) seemed near death a few weeks ago and recovered, so perhaps I am overly pessimistic.

* * *

I read and watched two particularly depressing things this weekend.  First, I saw “The Wrestler,” the film that Mickey Rourke stars in.  It’s his “comeback” and he was nominated for Best Actor.  As expected, the story was grim and gritty.  Very sad.

I finished reading The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.  It’s a memoir of the year following her husband’s sudden death.  (They’d been married forty years.)  While I appreciated the writing, I found her disbelief in any sort of afterlife very depressing.  I cannot imagine grieving as one who has no hope in life beyond this life. When my 47-year old dad died, he was there one moment, and only his body remained the next.  His soul went somewhere.  I do not believe that our souls are extinguished at the moment of death.  I am absolutely convinced that this is not all there is to life.

On a somewhat related note, can I just mention how odd it is that my husband is now the same age my dad was when he died?  My dad will never be older than 47 and soon I will be older than my dad.  Very strange.

And abruptly, that’s it for now.

1)  Until I was in college, I had no idea that basketball players had any sort of strategy.  I thought each game was basically a free-for-all.  Even professional games.

2)  I hate parties.  I hate to mingle and make small talk, especially with other introverts.

3)  While my husband was out of town, I purchased and consumed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream for lunch.

4)  I’m a lackadaisical housekeeper.

5)  I had to look up “lackadaisical” in the red dictionary I keep by my desk.

6)  I have some unread magazines from 2002 that I am convinced I will read some day.

7)  My storage room is a disaster.  Again.

8)  I have been meaning to look up information about lilacs for about three years.  I need to know how to prune my big old bush in the front yard and I wonder why my little bush in the backyard won’t bloom.  I never remember to do the research.

9)  My desk is covered in dust.

10)  I can’t wait until the new season of “Survivor” starts.  I have watched every season.  I think I would be an excellent “survivor” except that I despise camping and sleeping on the ground.  And if I don’t shower every day I get cranky.

I was minding my own business, working at the computer when I heard the unmistakable cry of my daughter in pain.  She ran downstairs, hand clamped over her mouth, drooling and crying real tears.

“Uh-oh, did you hurt yourself?”

Nodding.

“Did you bump your tooth?”

Nodding.

“Are you okay?”

Shaking head.

“Let me look.”  She pulled her hand away to reveal a bloody tooth.  It kind of looked scary.  I went to find a red colored washcloth I could wrap ice in.  When in doubt, get out a wet washcloth.  I offered it to her and she took it, tried it, rejected it and clamped her hand over her mouth again.  Tears ran down her face.

“Does it hurt?”

Shaking head.

“Oh.  Are you just freaked out?”

Vigorous nodding.

“You want to lay down and watch a show?”

Nodding.

So, that’s what she did until she was ready to stop freaking out.  She came down a little later.  The blood had stopped,  The tooth was very wiggly but still hanging in there.

She was so worried about that loose tooth.  What if it falls out and she didn’t notice?  What if she ate it?  What if it never fell out and she could never eat again?  Would it hurt if it was pulled?  What if it falls out?  What is if doesn’t?  She traveled this circular path of anxiety around and around again.

Then, “Mom!  It fell out!”

And the tooth fairy remembered to put a gold dollar coin under her pillow.

It was a day well lived.  (She just woke up to use the bathroom.  When I tucked her into bed, she remembered and checked under her pillow.  “Hey, now I have another gold coin.”   I don’t know if she will ever be cuter than she is at this moment.)

Tomorrow morning I’m getting my hair cut.  Trimmed.  Whatever.  It’s been a super long time since I’ve been to my hair stylist and I look like a woman who lives in a tree stump in a deep dark forest.  Or like a hippie prancing around on an organic farm back in 1974.

I expect I’ll look like a middle-aged housewife when she finishes with me.

Recently, a couple of people have been snatching purses at the mall where the salon is located.  I fully expect to run into them but they will not snatch my purse because I will fight to the death and one mom-glare from me will reduce them to a puddle of fear.  Also?  My purse is not an expensive designer purse, which is apparently what they target.

I was alone in my house this afternoon, thanks to an alignment of events.  My daughter spent the afternoon at a friend’s house–she rode the bus directly there after school.  My son was at school late because once a month he and his buddies have to stay after school while the neighbor-lady runs a PTA meeting.  I sent my teenagers outside for a walk.  They are supposed to walk every day for exercise, but I forget to make them and they conveniently don’t remind me.

So, I was alone for about an hour.  It was glorious and rare.  When we adopted babies fifteen years ago, I had no idea that meant I would hardly ever be alone again.  For you extroverts, that is a dream come true.  For we introverts, it’s exhausting.  Or maybe I should just say I am exhausted.  I am.  Exhausted.

But at least tomorrow at this time I won’t have such an unruly mop of hair.   And there is something to be said for that.

My husband is in New Mexico tonight.  He’s driving a new-to-us red Cadillac home from Texas.  He expects to arrive here on Wednesday night.  Normally, he prefers not to share driving duties when on car-trips–when we drove to Disneyland, he drove the whole way there and the whole way back.  Hello?  I have had my driver’s license since I was seventeen.  (I failed the written test only once.  Ha ha ha.)

Anyway, a friend of his flew to Texas to help him drive home.  “Are you going to actually let him drive?” I asked.  He laughed and said he wasn’t sure.  I pointed out that this friend flew airplanes for a living and could probably handle a red Cadillac on the Interstate system.

And tonight, my husband reported that Keith drove about half the day.  Good job, Mr. Safety.  See?  You didn’t die, even though someone else drove the car!

Meanwhile, since he was gone, I left home twenty minutes late.  Our drive to Seattle takes an hour, depending on traffic and I sped the whole way, wondering why other people were not in such a hurry.  We arrived in our seats just as the pastor began the sermon, so I count that as being pretty close to on time.  Nevermind that we were actually the full twenty minutes late.

After church, we had lunch at Dick’s Drive In and then stopped by Costco for Superbowl snacks.  We’d set the DVR to start recording the game, just in case, and sure enough, by the time I had set up everything and made Rice Krispie Treats, the game had been on over thirty minutes.  So, we watched it on time delay.  And by “we”, I mean me, my three sons and two other teenage boys from the neighborhood.  My daughter spend her afternoon at her friend’s house down the street.

I wrapped up my night by giving my 1o-year old a haircut in the kitchen at 10:00 p.m.  I really have no training in cutting hair, but whenever I take him to a barber, the barber cuts his hair so short that my poor blond boy cries his eyes out.  So I trim it myself and wish I had sharper shears.

Well, I’ve pondered whether to add more to this entry and wondered if I will ever have anything clever to say again.  I’ve decided no on both counts.

My husband has been out of town since Thursday morning.  My teenagers left yesterday at noon.  It’s just me and my 10-year old son and 6-year old daughter.  And yet, they bicker and prevent me from sleeping in on a Saturday morning.

However, it was a good day.  I took the kids to McDonald’s and then Goodwill where we all found treasures.  I worked on my writing assignment (due today!), vacuumed my house, cleaned my teenager’s filthy and disgusting bathroom and then went to a movie (thanks to my mom who babysat).

I saw “The Reader.”  I am on a quest to see all the movies nominated for Academy Awards, including the films featuring  the actors and actresses who have been nominated for best actor and best actress.

But now, I am going upstairs to watch SNL.  I finished my writing assignment.  Tomorrow I’m taking the kids to church, then to the zoo, then to the grocery store to buy junk food for a little family Superbowl Party.  The teenagers will be home and the chaos will resume in full force.  (Husband due home on Wednesday night.)

By the way, be jealous.  My husband bought me an iPhone for my birthday!

Hi!  Today was my birthday.  (Well, yesterday, technically.  January 28.)

And I’m 44.

My husband is going out of town tomorrow for about a week.

A kid named ***** messed with my 10-year old in class.  Hey, kid, don’t mess with my boy.

I have to sign off now.  But I will be back.  The older I get (hey, I made a birthday joke), the longer it takes me to regain momentum.  (As in, almost forever.)

See you soon!  (Unless you see me first.  I know.  I know.  Very funny.)