That first daffodil has done a complete face plant into the weeds. But there are more now, standing tall and strong. I guess the first one was the heroic leader of the charge and fell valiantly to clear a path for its comrades. Another week has passed. Peter is still enrolled, still hanging in there. I am still alive.
The funny thing is, that I’ll probably look back on this time fondly. I’ll probably miss the intensity and focus. When you’re always on the verge of utter devastation there’s never any question about what you need to do next. True, it’s very tiring, because there always is something that you need to do next, from 4 am until you fall into bed (at 8pm). But at least you aren’t grappling with questions about how to use your time. It’s a simple list: do the 50 things you need to do to manage your job today, do the 50 things you need to do to keep your son from dropping out of high school today, do the 50 things you need to do to maintain your other son’s fragile emotional well-being, hope that your husband doesn’t mind being ignored until the weekend.
And I’ve started eyeing empty boxes in the school workroom. I brought home four this weekend. I can pack some of the books that we won’t need between now and June. I’ll just stick the boxes back on the shelves where the books were.