This week and I are not friends.
On Sunday we have an open house, so we've been making our house look extra nice. The carpet in our bedroom is gone (on a related note, I've earned a few calluses), and we're repainting.
I have my final weekend of my consulting class today and tomorrow. The last weekend is always brutal. There's a lot to cram into 3 weekends, and the final one always ends in a big test or project. This project has been a group one, and for a bunch of counsellors in training, communication has been... well, there's room for improvement.
Then there are 2 birthdays in our family in the next 4 days. So, preparing.
Jim has obligations on Tuesday and Thursday nights for a while. So, it was 2 against one last night.
Inconveniently it was also last night that my adorable son turned into a goblin. I thought he wanted to be a robot for Halloween, so I'm caught off guard. You know how people do amazing things? The double amputee who builds houses? The 90 year old who decides to learn how to read? The child who had nothing growing up, but used some bootstraps to eventually own a Fortune 500 company?
Henry was like that last night: his tantrum was awe-inspiring. It lasted 2 hours (!). He was like the Kenyan marathon runners of temper tantrums! His whole body turned red. He jumped and kicked and screamed. There was a lot of sweat. He didn't even take a water break. Dude was committed to the tantrum.
For me it was scary, and frustrating, and funny, and exhausting all at once. I finally got him to calm down by holding him tightly against me. He gave a giant sigh, and stopped.
He rubbed my cheek, and whispered, "mom, I'm sorry. I'm not bad, I'm just tired."