It's Friday night, and I've just begun digging out of the emotional rubble of this week. So much happened, so much to assimilate. A week like this needs to end in a quiet house with three fingers of Birthday Scotch. In a "Radiator Springs" plastic cup.
Not for me. For the new sitter, Ximena, who started on Tuesday. And left the house once all week.
On Tuesday school was closed for Passover, and Robert didn't want to leave the house because he needed rest after all the exercise he got the day before. (He and I played three games of one-on-one baseball in my sister's sprawling back yard, where grounders can travel a long way before someone manages to chase them down. I'm happy the boy is developing hand-eye coordination, but I have to change the rules pronto before I throw a lung.)
Yesterday the nonstop rain precluded any hope for parole. And today TwoBert awoke with chills and a fever, and he was so weak that twice he walked over to a chair, lay his face on the seat, and fell asleep. So for three of her first four days, she engaged the boys with drawing and Legos and "Cars" and homemade Play-Dough and god-knows-what-else. When she left each night she sort of lurched down the hallway, using the walls to keep standing.
Wednesday was her big chance to actually go forth in the world, and when she returned she couldn't remember how to let herself back into the house. I came home early to show her, and she was mortified. Here she was, thinking "Only my second day on the job, and this guy must think I'm an idiot." And there I was, thinking "It's great that the boys love her, and I hope she doesn't quit. Even though she's a bit of an idiot."
Yes, I really thought that, but that was the Weird Transition talking. It hasn't been easy for me to adjust to the idea of leaving my kids with a stranger all day. But she is very nice, and I have great hope for her future. For one thing she's not fazed by sickness, and she took great care of TwoBert today. When I got home he was happily snuggled up in his high chair, slurping soup and smelling of lavender. Ximena rubbed him down from head to toe with it, and 20 years from now he will smell that smell again and wonder why it always makes his loins wobble.
I also have complete confidence that she'll adapt to her new life of chasing around two boys all day. She came today with relaxation CD, replete with harp-y, string-y, oboe-y spa music. She left it for me, and I admit it really takes the edge off. Makes the scotch go down smooooooooth.
