.... overactive monkey mind.
** The blackeyed peas don't seem to be coming up. Also, I have inexplicably lost one of Smitty's tomato plants, the green onions and every last herb (save for the mint, rescued from compost fate at a friend's.)
** The boy wants to go to kindergarten. He has put together a backpack. Packed with *my* things. It waits by the door for the starting day, "Not today. Maybe Sunday. Or Monday."
** He also announced this week that Ziggy was his baby name and he currently goes by his "little boy" name, but that he wants a big boy name. He asked for suggestions. Flower Pot, Ralph, Jasper, Milkweed, Sunny Jim, Herman: all rejected. Johnson was a hit. I was informed that on Wednesday the new name, Johnson, would go into effect, as big boy status would be reached. On Wednesday he will be able to swim and pass the swimming test at the Y. Hours later, Johnson has been ditched in favor of Mark, which for two days, has stuck as the next iteration of my boy's vision of himself.
** Last week Ziggy, to be known as Mark in the future, decided that he wanted his long locks cut short. "When we get home." I agreed, and gave some warning that it would probably feel really good in this hot weather, and that he would look different but still handsome and wonderful. "How will I look?" "Like you. Just with shorter hair, like when we pull it back with a hair tie." "Oh. I've changed my mind. Did you hear me, Mama? I've changed my mind."
** Still: Mind full of homeschool and other schooling options. My heart and mind have been set on homeschooling, but my social creature does not enjoy, as he says, being "the only child." Sure I can provide him with the educational learning here, but clear on not being able to provide him with the multi-age peer environment he craves. One day of enrichment doesn't seem to be enough, yet I'm not ready to send him on at not yet four this fall -- to five days a week. Not thinking *he's* ready. That seems a bit much of much, particularly given that the age requirement has *just* been changed so that his late birthday ekes in at a mere five days under the new cut-off date for starting kindergarten in 2010. Running the ideals through the realities, including the numbers and the driving and the how to work with all that driving.... Montessori? How to pay for it? Start him in the new neighborhood program part time this fall, then look into Abintra? Look at Linden Corner? Another school with small classes and philosophies I think might best suit? Stumbling over behavior issues in large public school classrooms concerns me; not clear on whether Encore is the right environment but not sure it's not. Ruling out pre-K at the school around the corner. Wanting kids to be kids doing kid stuff. Wrestling again and again with ideal and reality. Go back to work to pay for school? Counter intuitive. Maybe unavoidable. Go back to both school and work, both? When? Put him on the waiting list for Eastwood again? Look at East Academy and find an earlier choice for readying? Isn't life enough for readying? Just thinking "out loud," the way I tend to make sense of things.
** Nap yesterday in the big boy bed in the big boy room, where we are purging "baby toys" and things that get little play, making room for the new train table, for the play of NOW. Excited for the making room in the physical space, still carrying sadness over thinking "this is it. no more babies." And thinking I may never really get beyond that sadness in full. Which is okay, so long as it's used as a vehicle for moving forward, leaning into now. Hoping I can. Setting aside lovely things for my brother, and for his wife, for their eventual family.
** Child has idea to sleep at night in his big boy room. Me: determined this summer to start him in his own room. He has the idea that his father will sleep with him in his bed, that I will sleep on the couch, the better to hear if "a chimney swift gets in the fireplace and you can tell us."I am hungry for time with my spouse. An uninterrupted conversation. A board game. Some kind of getting to know one another again. Not yet to be. The first attempt (this go round) lasts all of ten minutes despite my preparation and laying out the plan. Secondary plan to leave child and his father in "the big bed" and check back is disastrous at this point. Exhausting. An hour's worth of sobbing, crying, flailing, ranting. My husband lies still and quiet, not speaking when spoken to. I imagine he doesn't see -- or feel -- the need for change, and I can't paint a clearer picture or set a calmer example. At last, the boy settles. I am worn down. Feeling unsupported. Needing a transition that it seems I'll have to find another way to make. I want to communicate this more effectively to my mate, that he understands that our boy wants to feel big, and his wife longs for his companionship. These are good things.
** Short ribs in the fridge need cooking. What to do? Oven? Stovetop? Braising seems the thing. Would a crockpot work?
** Thank heavens for the Y pool. The garden and the Y pool combined are cheaper than therapy, and maybe nearly as effective.
** I used to smoke. Unbelievable. Oh, please God, don't let my sweet little boy grow up to be a smoker.
** I'd make oatmeal bars this morning if I had applesauce. And really, I *could* make some appleasauce by cooking down an apple or two. But I don't want to. I want to sleep. I just want to feel rested. I want to empty my brain out a bit, calm its electric snap and sizzle. How is it that my husband and child still sleep?
** Oh, so glad the dog's tail is doing well. The hair growing back. (I slammed his tail in the back door months ago. A dreadful accident.)
** Oh, damn. I hear the garbage truck. And I forgot to pull the bin to the curb last night.
** What to do with all that triple coupon turkey no one seems to be eating? We just don't like it. So not so much a deal afterall.
** Coffee. Another cuppa. Settling down. Settling in.
-- my prayer today: Mother-Father God, May I be truly present this day of days. May I be a vessel, made clean, made utile. To hold and flow full of the good God stuff, for my family, for my community. To be an instrument for your peace, for the song of the Universe. And may all the chatter in my brain settle down enough that I can be. here. now. Amen.