Awake Too Late

This reentry week has been difficult in many ways. The transition from the roar of the ocean to the roar of children arguing has made me squint and yell. I've been ignoring the increasing soreness in my throat. I can't seem to keep the dishes all washed and the kitchen clean for even thirty minutes at a time.

Tonight, I am up too late, watching Olympic figure skating and cringing when Sasha Cohen fell on a couple of her jumps. She won the silver, but still. How devastating.

My daughter has been wearing old swimsuits for the past three days. She's even wearing one to bed at night and switching into different ones throughout the day. I cannot understand this. Yesterday, she played in the backyard in this crazy outfit--a swimsuit and sneakers--no jacket, no coat, no hat in the nippy February air.

Oh! Tonight, my son told me he was a fun boy. I said, "Are you one hundred percent fun?" and he said, "No. Seventy-five percent." Yesterday, when I begged him not to grow up (his 8th birthday is Sunday), he said, "Mom, it's the law of physics!"

So it goes. The kids keep growing up and I can't stand to lose them and I can't wait to push them out the door.