I picked Jonah up from school today with two of his friends. We currently have 3 carseats strapped in the back, artifact of nanny share days, so I volunteered to be carpool mom.
Of the two girls joining us, Jonah decided he wanted the OTHER one to sit next to him. And he decided to throw a fit about it.
The worst part for me was imagining that at some point, the girl he didn’t want to sit next to would suddenly realize that she was being dissed.
But neither girl cared.
Jonah was a total pill. Crying and whining until he settled into a resentful sulk. The girls were making each other laugh, telling jokes and waving their arms around. Jonah continued to sulk.
Lovely.
We got to the park before the other moms. The two girls got on the swings. There was no third swing for Jonah.
Lovely.
But then, the tire swing opened up. Three kids; one mutually-joy-filled activity.
Actual loveliness.
But then, they tired of spinning.
Two girls back in the other swings, Jonah wailing in my lap. Not because he felt left out, but because he was hungry. I didn’t have any snacks, the other moms still hadn’t arrived.
We sat like that. The girls swinging, me rocking Jonah on the soft, manufactured-material-ground stuff, until the cavalry appeared; with cheerios, corn chips, pretzels, oranges, pears. And all was well.
We came home early because I wasn’t feeling well. A headache I’ve been sporting for more than a week, through two chiropractic appointments and a massage without any change, actually a muscle spasm of some kind affecting my occiput and jaw, finally broke me. I. Was. Just. Plain. Tired. And oddly a little nauseous. Not a good sign since one kid projectile vomited at preschool yesterday and I’d hate to come down with it next but the possibility is there.
I was sure it had to be 5pm. It was only 3:30. I am convinced that on this day, instead of being dropped into the sea by an earthquake, there is some kind of stretch in the space-time continuum that made things seem impossibly long.
I got home at 4, plunked Jonah in front of a video with his daily piece of Halloween candy (okay, pieces, the remaining ones are kinda small so we let him have 2: an itty bitty dumdum lollipop and a milky way—which he ate along with a cheese sandwich).
I crawled into bed with the heating pad and an actual book of fiction, borrowed from my friend Laura, who reads.
An hour later, it was still early evening. There was still much boy-entertaining to do. And I was still in pain. 2 ibuprofen and some Pepto, and more bed for me while Scott and Jonah engaged in some housecleaning. I’m not sure how they landed on that as a project.
Jonah was quite enthusiastic about his participation. Marching around gathering the tools: a rag, a sponge, a broom, a dustpan. We’ve been having problems with ants and he’s been loving helping to eradicate them. As he works, he mutters and sighs, “Ach! We are doing ALL THE HOUSEWORK!” kind of complaining and gloating at the same time.
At one point, he was set on washing a glass in the bathroom. I heard Scott worry aloud to Jonah about the glass breaking. But he left him to his devices. Until… CRASH!
Scott ran in, terrified that Jonah had cut himself. And Jonah fell apart, crying/hyperventilating because he was sure he was in trouble and he was incredibly dismayed that his work was suddenly over.
I got out of bed to help console. “That was my JOB!” Jonah wailed/hiccuped, while I held him, rocked him, picked one tiny shard off of his cheekbone.
Scott mostly dealt with bedtime. I pinch-hitted (pinch-hat?) for pajamas and tooth brushing, the most I could contribute in my current state.
I managed to cook dinner, which I have also, so far, kept down.
I hope the space-time continuum rights itself tomorrow, but for tonight, let there be many more hours of sleep than expected.
Feel better soon.