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This has been a rough week, and it's not even close to being over. Poor EB texted me this morning to let me know she was sick and couldn't come to be with CR - after losing yesterday's standard work hours, and adding on another day of juggling CR and errands and squeezing in work where I can, my stomach began to churn. For instance, I had a scheduled call at 10:30am today...
Obvious problem: I had CR this morning and beyond
Improvised solution: Let's go to the toy store!
This allowed CR to play with new toys in a space away from any tempting televisions, and I could make my short call without interruption. After we left the toy store (with an unexpected purchase of "Emily" from the Thomas the Train collection; partly because CR really wanted her, and partly because I felt a little guilty for hanging out there for so long without supporting their bottom line), we headed to get printer cartridges, a stop at Whole Foods, the gas station, and the hardware store to buy a new lightbulb and to drop off batteries and lightbulbs for recycling. We made our way back home for lunch, and eventually, CR [reluctantly] went down for his nap.
I worked away furiously while he counted sheep the floor above me, and as I tiptoed into our room to finally take a shower, he woke up...early...damn. There goes any de-stressing downtime for me for the day...
My stress level was soaring. I looked at my work to-do list without as many cross-offs as I would have liked, and since I can't have a big glass of tension-releasing vino to make things at least feel like they're not as nerve-racking as they are, I resorted to pulling out an old favorite of mine, and lucky for me, it's one of CR's favs as well.
Playdough.
The smell conjures up memories from childhood. A time when my biggest worry was making sure I got the bigger half of a sandwich than my brother, or that I got to sit by the window in the car...
It sort of smells like paste...the gloopy, white kind that would dry instantly when you spread it (usually using a popsicle stick) on construction paper, eradicating it's mere purpose for existing. Nothing really stuck to it, and even if it did manage to cling on, as soon as the pseudo-adhesive dried, it would crust and flake off immediately.
Anyway, Playdough stepped in place of my wanting to hook up double magnum of red zinfandel to an IV line attached to my arm. CR and I squished and squeezed it. We pushed it through the Playdough machine, and made snakes and spaghetti strands (or blue and purple poops, as CR called them). I felt the tension leave my shoulders for the first time today.
Obvious problem: I had CR this morning and beyond
Improvised solution: Let's go to the toy store!
This allowed CR to play with new toys in a space away from any tempting televisions, and I could make my short call without interruption. After we left the toy store (with an unexpected purchase of "Emily" from the Thomas the Train collection; partly because CR really wanted her, and partly because I felt a little guilty for hanging out there for so long without supporting their bottom line), we headed to get printer cartridges, a stop at Whole Foods, the gas station, and the hardware store to buy a new lightbulb and to drop off batteries and lightbulbs for recycling. We made our way back home for lunch, and eventually, CR [reluctantly] went down for his nap.
I worked away furiously while he counted sheep the floor above me, and as I tiptoed into our room to finally take a shower, he woke up...early...damn. There goes any de-stressing downtime for me for the day...
My stress level was soaring. I looked at my work to-do list without as many cross-offs as I would have liked, and since I can't have a big glass of tension-releasing vino to make things at least feel like they're not as nerve-racking as they are, I resorted to pulling out an old favorite of mine, and lucky for me, it's one of CR's favs as well.
Playdough.
The smell conjures up memories from childhood. A time when my biggest worry was making sure I got the bigger half of a sandwich than my brother, or that I got to sit by the window in the car...
It sort of smells like paste...the gloopy, white kind that would dry instantly when you spread it (usually using a popsicle stick) on construction paper, eradicating it's mere purpose for existing. Nothing really stuck to it, and even if it did manage to cling on, as soon as the pseudo-adhesive dried, it would crust and flake off immediately.
Anyway, Playdough stepped in place of my wanting to hook up double magnum of red zinfandel to an IV line attached to my arm. CR and I squished and squeezed it. We pushed it through the Playdough machine, and made snakes and spaghetti strands (or blue and purple poops, as CR called them). I felt the tension leave my shoulders for the first time today.
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