Daily Archives: October 10, 2013


I steel myself for September each year, readying myself for the busyness of the season. It’s a welcome change of pace, at first, after the summer. There are very few lazy days of summer for us anyway – it’s the same workdays after all, and far more summer camp and childcare juggling than the school year requires. When E started Kindergarten I “took off” the month from blogging – challenging myself to photograph our days and post them as a visual reference of that big transition. I just didn’t want to get too wordy about it. This was a big step for her, and it was nice to sit back and watch her step out a little farther into the world.

September’s madness melts into October now, and I cannot remember the last time we had a weekend without a jam-packed agenda or travel plans. I did not realize how exhausted I was until last night. I struggled to keep my eyes open for the book I reading aloud to F, nodding off and then awakening whenever she poked her pointy finger into my arm. 

Prodding. I need it. A lot of it. But being prodded to do anything – even the gentlest, not-poking reminders can be irritating. I don’t like to be reminded of things I’ve forgotten. I like to be the one who remembers. I like to think that I’m on top of things.

Sunday night we rolled back into town, unloaded the car, and unpacked the bags. Started the laundry, started the showers, hunted for toothbrushes and sleep friends. Changed out the pillow cases and collapsed into bed.

Monday – the only day E has to bring her own lunch to school – we forgot it.

Tuesday – the only day E had to turn in her week’s worth of homework – she forgot it.

Wednesday – the washer broke – protesting, I’m sure, the crazy amounts of camping and picnicking and hand-me-down clothes washing I’ve been subjecting it to around the clock.

Thursday – we forgot to cancel a meeting – the same meeting that we’ve cancelled and rescheduled at least three other times. We are slaves to our shared online calendar, but even digital prodding can sometimes fail.

I have a half a dozen posts started, half written, completely written, but I can’t seem to push the publish button. They sound hollow to me, and not of my voice – my current voice – the one that is stressed out, worried, anxious, distracted and completely exhausted. That’s the only voice I have this morning, and it’s going to take a fair amount of prodding to get me past this.