Packing it In

Oh, I guess in theory right now I should be packing things, all kinds of things, but I'm not. In theory Peaches and I head East in the wee hours before dawn on Thursday, and in theory J and I take Rooster to his first day of kindergarten tomorrow morning. You know how I roll, though, friends, and I showed myself to be a foolish gambler when mere hours ago I spoke with enthusiasm for the upcoming adventures, so now of course my little Peach has suddenly spiked a fever.

I am, as rooster likes to script (from The Moffats audiobook), GOBSMACKED. I am not packing a suitcase. I am not writing notes to the kindergarten teacher and the AAA (aide). Can't. Stuck. Stymied. Like the word petrified, like something pulled from the La Brea tar pits. Vigilantly sitting up waiting to see if the newly tucked in girl coughs, cries. Steeling compulsive peeks at the clock until the next dose of Tylenol in two more hours. As usual, the only thing I am able to do when I'm in this state is this. Blogging. Here I Am and Here. I. Am. I have no idea how to wait patiently as time passes, I only know how to pace back and forth in writing.

So, rather than dwell (on whether Peaches has the flu, if she got sick from eating food she'd dropped on the floor at a fast food restaurant on the way home from my inlaws, how we'll divide up her care and Rooster's first day at kindergarten and WORK, if we'll be able to travel, whether we should have gotten Roo the flu shot during our last visit to the doc when he was already under the weather, if I can even contemplate flying East alone or missing my reunion/mother's 65th birthday/dearest friend's new baby, why the deities screw around with me, and how dumb I was not to get the flight insurance for the first time ever), I blog.

I blog.

To distract myself, here is a bit of noteable and quotable for you:

Me: Peaches, do you know who is my very favorite girl in the whole wide world?
Peaches: Who?
Me: (touching her with my index finger) You are.
Peaches: You know who is my favorite girl?
Me: Who?
Peaches: (touching me with her index finger)AMIE!

Peaches: Even though I'm mean, do you still love me?

Me (to Rooster): How much do I love you?
Rooster: So much.
Me: For how long?
Rooster: Forever.
Me: Who loves you more than I do?
Rooster: Me! I love me more than you do!
Me: NOBODY loves you MORE than I do, Roo.
Rooster: That's right! Nobody!

Okay, whew. That was good for me. I think now I'll pretend to try look like someone deeply contemplating packing up for a fresh start at a new school with new teachers, new shadows, and a roostery kindergarten boy, and for a remote hope for a trip East with a Peachy girl. But actually I'll probably see you here again in about five minutes.