Right around March each year, I start to panic. Afterall, in March, summer is only about three months away and I'm getting a little nervous. I love summer--the unscheduled-ness of it all, not waking up to an alarm, no real requirements (except hockey--why does there always seem to be hockey regardless of the time of year?!), lots of stay-up-late movie nights. However, I'm not big on the summer heat, which fortunately only lasts for six weeks or so out here. Anyway, I like the concept of summer.
The March Panic arises from the fact that I realize that in three months, the boys will be home full-time. It's not that I don't want them to be at home with me, but it does complicate matters as far as work goes. I lose most of my working time during the day AND they go to bed later.
So when summer is coming, the kids are all like, "YAY! SUMMER!!!!!!" And I'm more like, "oh yay, it's summer." Note the lack of exclamation points and capital letters in my "exclamation."
But I don't want their summer to be all about me working, so I just sort of fumble along during the summer. "Fortunately," Eamonn is still unemployed so that has dramatically helped this year.
At any rate, when school was letting out, I was thinking, "How am I going to make it to the end of July when we go to Ohio?" It seemed like a long space of time to fill and a lot of work had to take place in that time. I had to do my normal weekly work, a few extra jobs for one client, and complete a magazine for another. I was sort of overwhelmed by the thought of it all.
And now, suddenly, it's here. I made it. I kept up with my weekly work, I finished the extra projects, and over the weekend, I turned in the magazine--several days ahead of schedule, pardon me while I pat myself on the back. And breathe a sigh of relief.
Tomorrow we drive to Denver to spend the day and have Finn's bloodwork done before the boys and I fly to Ohio on Thursday.
I admit, I'm excited to see everyone. Yesterday, I talked to my Grandpa on the phone and he sounded so incredibly good. I can't wait to spend time with him. That man always has a story. I'll tell you a funny story about Grandpa. Late this winter, he had a heart attack. OK, that's not the funny part. I'm getting to the funny part. Anyway, after the heart attack, Grandpa went through some type of physical therapy/rehabilitation. One day he was at rehab and someone called up to the exercise room, or wherever he was, and asked if there was a typo because was there really someone in cardiac rehab who was 96? Did they mean he was really 69? The people looking at the paperwork couldn't believe it.
And now he's 97. Madness.
The boys are really excited for Ohio as well. The other day, did I already write about this???, they had some elaborate Lego game set up involving buildings and all of their characters, who were eating at Donato's and Graeter's, our favorite pizza and ice cream haunts in Ohio. Some children look forward to siteseeing, my children look forward to eating. Just like their mother.
Eamonn is remaining behind, all of you Internet stalkers, so don't get any crazy ideas about burgling our house. And remember, he's unemployed so he has all the time in the world to sit here and guard the house with his shotgun.
Stay tuned for pictures of us eating pizza and ice cream until we're sick.