Wednesday, November 13, 2013

I Work Myself Too Hard

That time between 3:00 and 3:45 is a pleasant time of the day.  It’s pick-up time at Hudson’s school.  I usually get there early so I can be one of the first cars, put it in park and read a book.  Sometimes I sit and listen to NPR and catch up on Norwegian indie rock or the latest research into the mating habits of dung beetles. Hudson is usually in a good mood when I pick him up and excitedly tells me about his day.  This day however he looked angry.

He got in the car with a scowl on his face.  “You forgot something,” he told me.

I racked my brain trying to remember every note from school, every newsletter, every e-mail, voice message, smoke signal, and telegram.  There are so many!  Of course I would eventually forget something!  What was it?  Did I forget to go to a party?  Money for the book fair?  Field trip?  Lunch?  Oh my god, did I send him to school without lunch?!

“You forgot my peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he said with eyes boring straight into my skull, “You said you would fix me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich today.”

I felt bad, but relaxed a little.  It’s not like I sent him to school without underwear.

“I’m sorry, buddy.  You’re right.  I forgot, but I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

He softened a little and said, “Why do you do so much stuff while I’m at school?  I think that’s why you keep forgetting things.”  Or in other words, “You’re working yourself too hard.  Why don’t you just focus on me and my needs?”

He’s got a point.  If I just stopped worrying about doing laundry I could finally remember that Chickadee’s are not a suitable substitute for Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies.  And if I could stop paying bills I would finally remember to sew that minuscule hole in his blanket that I can’t see but am told will cause his blanket to fall apart any day now.

So if you come over to visit, I’m sorry for the shitty state of my house.  I stopped cleaning for the sake of my son.  Oh and if you do come over, text me first.  I don’t want you to interrupt me during my yoga session where I focus my third eye on remembering that watermelon is the only acceptable toothpaste flavor.



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