Eric read yesterday's entry at work, and it really opened his eyes. Apparently, though he knew that I was sad yesterday morning, he didn't know that I was sad. When I got home, I was greeted with a lovely bouquet of pink and white carnations and a (as he put it to me) "big, smelly candle" shaped like a star. He also said that he'd make sure we really enjoyed this next cycle. Would somebody please tell me what I did to deserve him?

I threw myself into my work today in an effort to cheer myself back up. Surprise! It worked! We had a new storytime session start today, and I got to start off my morning with "Old MacDonald" and "Sodeo":

Here we go, So-dee-o,
So-dee-o, So-dee-o,
Clap your hands for So-dee-o
All day long!

We also had a movie showing of Ezra Jack Keats' Goggles!, which was narrated by a British version of James Earl Jones. The booming bass voice proved too much for one of the little boys, and I heard, "Mommy! We have to go NOW!" coming from the crowd before more than ten seconds had passed. The soundtrack was some great New Wave music that seemed to confuse more than one of the kiddies: "What's that song?"

We've decided to start adding comic books to the Young Adult collection and it's fallen to me to decide which ones and to maintain the collection. Embracing the opportunity to get to know "my" patrons, I made up some posters to stick out on the tables around which they all congregate after school; on them I ask for their opinions on the matter and request that they bring me any suggestions. I used lots of funny fonts ands symbols; they look reminiscent of the old indy group posters I remember from college. I really hope they get results, and not just laughs.

Mom had her surgery yesterday. I called her up and didn't even recognize her voice; I thought it was my grandmother. They didn't find any tumors, but they still have to analyze the "cold node" they found on her thyroid to see if it was cancerous. Meanwhile, she's feeling rotten. She was supposed to come home today, but I hope she doesn't let them evict her if she's still feeling as bad as she was last night. She had vomited from the pain right before I called.

I almost cried again on the phone with her. Mommies aren't supposed to get sick! They're supposed to always be the strong ones. They're something higher than human; they have to be, in order to take care of their babies. Hearing my mommy in such poor condition shakes my world in a most disconcerting manner.

I hope Dad is taking good care of her. I know he's doing his best, but I want him to compensate for the care I'd give her if I was there. I wish I was there.