Star-Cross'd Return Home

Last night I had a headache of a Communications exam. I just think that, when the instructor says, "If I don't talk about it in class, it won't be on the exam," it really shouldn't be on the exam unless she talked about it in class.

Of course, the positive thing was that Chris was home last night, and I got home early because of the test. So yay! Naturally, the evening proceeded in an odd fashion and with several household mishaps. We went to add conditioner to the bed and managed to spill some on the floor. Chris turned on the dining room lights and two bulbs burned out at once. But my favorite was when he managed to--in his giddiness--drop a bag of sugar down the stairs, thus spilling a heap of sugar on the landing.

Laughing, I asked the boys, "Now, children, what can we learn from this?"

The youngest came up to me, put on his best sitcom-young-child expression, and said, "Having a daddy is a biiiig responsibility."

The Hard Thing

Days like today make it hard to think about leaving where I work. On days like today, I feel really good at what I do. I read stories, and kids listen. I get hugs and I get to hear "I love reading!" I hear, "I love the library!" Sometimes, I hear, "I love you, Mrs. Rowland."

I will miss all that so much. It's hard when the greatest days, when I feel most confident and most competent, are also the days that make me sad.

Poor Polka-Dot Boy

My poor Youngest Boy--the pityrhiasis is moving on to what is hopefully a beginning-of-the-end stage, but that is leaving little sore places. We're putting hydrocortisone cream on them and trying to keep them moisturized, but they just look so ugly and red and are sore. We had been able to put Aveeno lotion on his skin to help a little, but tonight there were so many little sore places that the lotion stung his skin. The poor guy was almost crying.

He's been so brave, and this is not a small thing for him. He is a sensitive soul, so to have something so awful-looking and to have to have me fussing over it once a day and then to have it hurting is just a real trial for him. I am so proud of him for being good about it and not freaking out. I HATE not being able to really DO anything for him.

We put some olive oil on some of his skin, because I figured it wouldn't hurt anything--other than potentially the bedsheets--and it won't sting and it should help the dry places around the sore areas.

Naturally, he is still the Youngest Boy and decided we should use one side of his tummy as the control area and the other side as the test area. So exactly half of him is coated in olive oil. He can't even be ill like normal people. :)