Ok, so the title of my post reminds me of the song by Sheryl Crow with the lines "Three Days in Rome." Ah, if only.
Today is my third day trapped in my house with my children while my husband is out and about interacting with other adults. Charlotte has been home from school for the past two days; took her to the doctor yesterday and she has strep throat. So today she is still contagious and not going to her class at Little Gym, and I've cancelled the babysitter who was to stay with James while I had an hour or two to myself. No need to spread the germs around. My husband is out all day at a workshop, and I am going a little stir crazy. Not to mention the massive headache as yet untouched by the aspirin I took an hour ago.
Bleh. I'm complaining. Anyway...next Friday James starts preschool. We were supposed to go yesterday for him to meet teachers and fellow students and just get used to the place, but we went to the doctor instead. So we will try again on Monday, and then on Friday - 4 hours of preschool. FOUR WHOLE HOURS!! I alternately can't wait and then get all tearful and sad because, come on, my BABY. Is going to preschool. And how did this happen? If I ask him if he's a baby, James says, "No baby." He is so adorable right now and I wish I could keep him right here for a few years, in this in-betweenness of baby and preschooler, when he adores his mama and is still willing to hug and kiss me and be seen in public with me. My girl turned 7 a few weeks ago and is, like, getting, y'know, embarrassed by me sometimes. (Gawd! I'm the mother of a 7 year old!)
My James is calling for me to play Legos with him, so I will go build a monument to boys. How can I ignore a sweet voice saying, "Mommy pway!"