Mythankfulboy has new braces. He’s had them for a few days, and we are already one bracket down, but it isn’t causing him pain, and he seems to be weathering it nicely. He went to a friend’s house this weekend to hang out and, as it turns out, to learn how to shave his moustache. I smile as I type “moustache”, half because it’s a funny word to apply to my boy, and half out of nerves.
We worked hard today on moving a small shed, which required levelling an area and sinking some footers. I feel awesome about it, despite what must be some arthritis in my hands. Tonight, at the chalice lighting, I asked if he knew if it was a “momma weekend” (meaning he doesn’t go to his dad’s at all), and he said, smiling, “I don’t know, but it would hard for me to say I was glad if it was a momma’s weekend because you’re making me work so hard.” To which I answered, “It IS so hard to work a few hours outside every day for a few weeks a year.” (A few weeks because we do not do hot well, so we wait until it’s in the 50’s and 60’s, which means a few weeks a year). “I think it cut your gaming down to only a few hours.” This, as I expected, set off a playful argument about exactly how long he had gamed, and we finally agreeing on 1 hour and 38 minutes. Hard times, little man, hard times.
At the chalice lighting, I sat on the end of his bed, and a few minutes in I laid on my side, and then he pushed me playfully with his feet (which were under the covers), so I allowed myself to fall over, at which point he said, loudly, “Don’t get too comfortable!!!!” I ignored him, pulling up a stray pillow on which to lay my head, and asked him for what he was thankful. He said, “My pillow. I have the best pillow. I flip it over during the night to get the cool side against my face. Maybe I should start keeping it in the fridge so it would stay cool longer.” I nodded in solidarity. He asked for what I was thankful, and I answered that we got the shed in place. Full circle. He said, “Yeah. It is pretty cool.”