Between late morning dropoffs at school, meetings to talk about who to bug for what materials for report appendices, hour-long trainings, a very nice lunch with the guy who performed the training (normally reserved for global directors, but my boss [the global director of my group] delegated the ‘responsibility’ to me, WOOT!), a hallway conversation with a colleague about how hard it is to have a kid when a broken foot that needs to b carted around pillar to post, and then a quick rip through e-mail before driving BACK to the school by 2:30 to pick the injured kid up before then having to wait another half an hour to pick up Thing 1, and only THEN getting home to fire up the computer to see what bits of flame from today’s white-hot fires had crept out from around the edges of my grasp, I pretty much didn’t have time to post today.
It was, um, pretty busy.
And, truth be known, I think I’m still stunned by the inadvertent peek I got at Thing 2’s junk this morning when I was helping him into the shower (busted foot, let's recall...). Poor boy needed a hand, and even though I TRIED to cover him up and look away while holding him steady as he got into the lawn chair set up in the tub for the purposes of scrubbing down his adolescent ass, there was….that moment.
Friends? He’s all grown up, if you get my drift. Isn’t it too soon?
Now, at last, I know how my parents felt when I, at 11 years old, had a figure that belonged on an 18-year old and had been shaving my legs and enjoying the joys of ‘being a woman’ for months already. I suppose, if I was fully reproductively capable at 11, then why shouldn’t HE be?
Still, if I never have to get an eyeful of that ever again? Fine by me.
Now any crusty sock or washcloth found in the Things’ room will be handled with TONGS. I swear to God they will.
Bye bye, my little boy. Hello, my young man.
It’s very much a good night for homemade pizza and a nice cocktail or three. The rain and colder temps have caused an outbreak of ‘cozy,’ and because I know I’m going to have to work this weekend (see the whole weird schedule thing in the first paragraph, please), it’s time to shut down this pup and commence to relaxin’.
Y’all have a good one, y’hear?