Thanksgiving Week

I found Sterling last Monday morning with his math book on his lap. I thought I’d been clear. “No school this week, bud.”

“None? Like, all week off?”

Let me rephrase. I’m not checking, teaching, or answering questions with regard to school subjects. You do what you wish.

We don’t take long breaks. We power through. We finish early in the spring. Except, I can’t. I need a break. I need time off. I’m not sure if a week is enough, but it’s all I can stomach losing.

We took the week off. Sterling put his book away. It was lovely. The turkey is gone. One turkey, three meals, ten people. Gone. Gone like my week off is gone.

I moved Elliot to her own bed. She’s been in a double with Liberty. It’s like cutting the umbilical cord all over again. She needs to get more sleep though. She’s fighting sleep at nap time and then keeping a thirteen year old’s hours. As in, Elliot is a wreck of crabby proportions.

There’s a video of her “reading” one of her favorite books here, for your amusement if you wish. She memorizes books at a rapid rate and quotes them regularly. She’s quite the character.

Someone asked on Facebook what dog breed makes the best pet. I bragged on Brady, our Yorkie Poo. That night, I assume after visiting the compost pile and helping herself to Thanksgiving turkey carcass, I found multiple piles of a different sort at 5am in the living room and bathroom. The bathroom rug was also soaked. The Yorkie Poo… Pooed.

The irony of my bragging how great she is mere hours before is not lost on me. I felt like I needed to go back and retract words. Brady is, for the time being, banished to the outdoors. That. Was. Gross.

We’re back to school tomorrow. Grocery shopping. Life. But we’re starting out with a mopped kitchen, laundry caught up, folded and away, a clean van and two clean refrigerators, and organization in multiple rooms.

I give it a day to fall apart.