I really need to develop a routine where I post here on some sort of regular basis. If I can iron shirts every Sunday night and feed myself every morning, I should be able to chronicle my existence here more than intermittently between crazy work deadlines.
I have so many things that need this treatment, though. Exercise. Writing. Reading. Sewing. A growing list of movies I haven't seen yet.
And then there's the whole family thing. I should call more. I should do more. I should stop working and play Xbox. I should inspire and amuse. Not even because my family expects to be inspired and amused -- they're perfectly capable of doing unto themselves -- but because it's what I should be doing.
The Young Prince turned 10 this month. I didn't give him a big blogpost because, let's face it, blogging has sort of gone by the wayside in terms of being a must-do activity. Instead we had a mess of presents, threw a party, and ate a lot of food. He seemed to have a pretty good time.He said that he feels "only slightly different" now that he has hit double digits.It is strange to think that we are past the halfway mark of his time at home. (This is assuming he is like all his relatives and CAN NOT WAIT to escape to college. And assuming we can afford to send him there.) There's so much he doesn't know (how to get up on time, how to use a kitchen knife) and it feels like there's hardly any time left to teach him any of it. And then there's so much he knows (all A's, good conduct grades, a assortment of tidbits about space and movies and history) and I have no idea where he picked it up. Part of me wants to follow him around and make sure that he and I are both soaking in as much as possible, but an equal and opposite part of me wants to punch that first part in the mouth and let the boy explore the world on his own, as long as he promises to come home and tell me about it later.
We are sending him to sleepaway camp for the first time this summer. I had an assortment of expected reactions to this -- he's kind of high-maintenance, will he be miserable? Will he make others miserable? Will he remember to take his drugs? Will someone remind him? What on earth is he going to eat? -- and then we got the confirmation form and I had a completely unexpected and ridiculously emotional meltdown that he's old enough to be packed off for a week with strangers and soon it won't be just for a week, it will beeeee forevvverrrr with nary a backward glance. I am glad I was home by myself for this torrent of nonsense. My co-workers would have been very confused had I been at work, and the YP would have been mortified if he'd seen such a display. As it is, he will simply have to put up with me petting him when he gets home. Until he hauls out his math homework and we argue about decimals. That always sets us right on track.
Or perhaps we will go for a walk and be inspired and amused, instead. There is an up side to not having a routine...