falling back.

Here we are, a million years later, and so much has happened but not much has changed.  I'm 50, soon to be 51. I am still having a hard time wrapping my mind around that one. We live in Arkansas now. It's been 5 years now and it's been a mix of good and bad. My baby is a junior in high school now.  He's a great kid. So smart and inherently good. Also really anxious and struggling to find his people after covid and online school for his freshman year of high school.  Talk about bad timing. It's nice to be able to look back and see snippets of life from years past. I want to hang on to this space, like an old tattered photo album that no one cares to look at but me.

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Monday.

How is that for a creative title?  
Monday.
It really says it all.

It wasn't a bad day.  Just long.  So long that at 3:00, I could no longer quite remember what day it was.  Must be Wednesday, right?  Because Monday started so long ago.

But no.  Still Monday.

My classes started today.  I always seem to have one student who seems a bit difficult.  A bit different.  I'm trying to be patient.  But really?  Do we have to be so difficult / different on Day One?  Couldn't we wait until at least Day Two?

Connor has decided that, rather than a hedge hog, he thinks he would just like to have a dog.  Just.

Today, I put a second coat of paint on one side of our guest room.  And painted the baseboards.  Tomorrow, I plan to move all of the furniture over to the finished side so that I can paint what remains.  Because that's just the way I get things done.  You know.  The way that takes the longest.

Slow progress is still progress.  Right?

Here we go again.

Here we are.  Three days into a new school year.  Connor is now a third grader and he is super excited about learning to multiply and writing in cursive.  Ha!  He's excited, but mostly about seeing old friends and getting to know the hedge hog and hamster living in his classroom.  I'll take it.  Anything that helps me to get him out of bed in the morning is good with me.

Jason and I are back to work. There aren't enough hedge hogs or hamsters in the world to get me excited about getting up at 5:30 every morning.  But, I'm trying to stay positive.  Find the silver lining. Choose joy.

Enjoying every weekend moment.  : )

Dental Guilt.

Someday, when Connor is grown, I hope that he remembers that we always required him to brush his teeth twice a day.  Every day.  {Even though his grandparents sometimes failed to follow this particular directive}

And that we sometimes brushed his teeth for him when they were looking particularly fuzzy.

And we purchased fresh toothbrushes {cool ones, even} as needed.  We lovingly replenished his toothpaste supply even though 75% of it was wasted when he wiped it off his toothbrush into the sink.  And left it there.

I hope that he'll know that we cared deeply about his oral hygiene.

And, most of all, I hope that he'll understand that the reason we dragged him {kicking and/or screaming} to the dentist every 12 months was because we loved him.  And only wanted the best for him.

And I sincerely pray that the fact that I, his mother, fail to make the appropriate number of dental appointments each and every year AND lovingly refuse to floss his teeth for him, will not result in any long-term dental distress.  

I.feel.so.guilty.  

Good news, though:  No cavities at today's visit!  Maybe there is hope for us yet.

A Reintroduction of Sorts.

Well, hello.
I haven't been HERE in a while.  I'm off work {from one job, at least} for the summer and I've had a lot more time to read and enjoy blogs.  

Kind of makes me want to start one of my own.  Oh wait.  I already did.  Years ago.  

I just abandoned it when life got crazy!

Sorry, little blog.  

I'm thinking of giving it another go.  Writing in this little space sounds like a lot more fun than the list of things I have to do today:  Mow the back yard before it gets too hot or rains; go to the dreaded Walmart; lose {again} to Connor on his newly created Zelda board game; and/or deep clean the house so that it's not gross for our visitors on Saturday.

Or shower.
Or laundry.
Or grade 74 assignments.

So let's see...where to start?

My name is Tricia.
I'm 42.
I'm married to Jason and we have a son named Connor.
He's turning 9 on Saturday.  It's so hard to believe that this will be his last year in single digits!

I'm a school psychologist for a small school district in Missouri.
I also teach online Child Psychology classes for a local community college.

I dream of waking up one day with some crazy {amazing} artistic talent that would allow me to make a living off of my creations while also raising a wonderful kid, keeping up on the housework, and learning to cook.

Or, you know, winning the lottery would also be okay.

In the meantime, I just try to make it through the day without losing my temper, cursing in front of Connor, and / or pulling out my hair.  

Welcome to Our Happy Little Home.  Again. 

Have a Sweet Night.

Some nights it feels like bedtime will never arrive.

Some nights it feels like I can't stand one.more.minute. of noise.

Some nights I dread all of the work I have to do once Connor finally (finally = 8pm) goes to bed.

But...

Every night, I have to smile just a little bit when I hear Jason say what he always says to Connor at bedtime:

"Have a sweet night."  Not a good night.  Not sweet dreams.

Have a sweet night.

One of my favorite things.  Truly.