The kids stare longingly at the windows and look like second graders already. I watch them read now, and see they have hardly a ny memory of the time when the stragled in at the beginning of the year, wide eyed and tangled in short syllable words. Assessments are mid-way. It is gratifying: they're doing well. But also laborious and utterly one-dimensional. Tests only say so much about a person, and in my opinon that 'so much' is a rather small fraction of the whole.
I'm still burning the candle at both ends, as the saying goes. Can't quite get myself to settle down and go to bed early enough, and when 5:30 rolls around I'm stumbling and bleary eyed. The staccato of the keyboard and strong coffee gradually bring me to up to speed, but then I'm out the door.
Bean got a fever today, unexpectedly, after a weekend of visiting with my sister (whom he followed about and pesterd, a long-eyelashed grin ever ready to bat her way.) Now he's curled in our bed. Twenty seven months today. It dawned on me that I didn't write him a letter last month, and now there's almost too much to say. Tonight he feverishly pats the spot next to him on the bed and says, "Here mama, a cozy spot for you."
The spring rains are here too, torrenting down. Everything is finally lush and green and blooming. We have chickens arriving in two weeks. No physical arrangements for them yet--but that's a must-do this weekend, or they'll be in our bathtub. Five Aracuna day-olds. Bean talks about them as if they're already here.
I'm trying to find ways to wind down this week. I'm one of those people who needs big chunks of decompression time, and at the end of the day I find myself sighing as I try to bring awareness to snapping bean stems off and sauteeing them with butter, lemon and toasted almonds. What do you do to settle back into the quiter corners of your self? How do you unwind after a nonstop day?