I'm feeling better today, so it must have just been a passing bug. I haven't even had any headaches today, which was a treat. Well, no headaches not easily attributable to things going on around me and that didn't stop when the chaos was stopped, I should say.
Eric took both boys out on a shopping run today, which was another nice treat for me; I spent most of the time they were gone trying to clear up some of the Christmas madness that's still surrounding us: new toys all over the living room that don't yet have a home, and boxes and packing materials that seem to keep appearing and multiplying every time I turn my back. When I was nearly done, a very frustrated Eric called and requested that Sam's race track be packed away before they got home; apparently, Sam was giving him tons of sass and grief, so the race track was to be a temporary casualty.
Vacation and time away from friends does not agree with Sam, it's sad to say. When it's just us, day in and day out, and nobody is even available for so much as an hour-long playdate, Sam starts finding fun where he can, and the easiest way for him to entertain himself seems to be pushing all our buttons. He teases Gabe by taking toys, he "forgets" long-standing house rules right in front of us, and he generally acts a menace all day long. Tonight, just to try to ease things a bit, I printed out about ten pages of mazes from the internet for him; they weren't simple mazes - I think they might have given me a little trouble - yet he finished them in about five minutes and was back to his tricks. He's too quick-witted for his own good sometimes.
He'll do better once school starts again, I predict. He craves constant stimulation, a constant flurry of activity of the sort that I just can't keep up with providing, or at least not without sending Gabe around the bend. Since Sam's been home, poor Gabe's nap schedule has been all out of whack because Sam resists seeing his brother sleep. Well, Gabe doesn't particularly want to sleep, either, though he really needs to, so when Sam is giving him the excuse and ability to keep his eyes open, he's game to accept that help, regardless of what it will do to him down the road.
Just...ugh. I'd wish for the holiday to be over already, except that when it ends, Eric will be heading off on business again; even with Sam back in school and things sinking back into routine, that's still nothing to want.
I know I said I was going to take a "knitting vacation" after the holidays, but I'm already thinking about getting started on something new. Socks, maybe. I've had a pair on needles that I started a while back, but my gauge got off, so I'll either have to adjust them to be for Sam or rip them back out, which I hate to do, since they were going so well.
Hey, now that my parents have gotten their gifts, I can show you what I made them! Dad got a chunky woolen cable-brim hat, and Mom got a pair of Mrs. Beeton wristwarmers:
I just like to have something on which I can work when I get a minute to breathe here and there. I must say, the bead work on the Mrs. Beetons was some of the most fun I've had for a while, and I'm eager to try something else beaded now, though no particular pattern in that vein has turned my head yet. Must keep looking.
I actually made a pair of the wristwarmers as a gift for a Secret Santa exchange within the family club first; they knitted up so nicely and quickly that time that I thought that they'd be perfect for Mom and wouldn't be too stressful to whip up in the brief time I'd allowed myself. Famous last words; the fingering-weight mohair that behaved so well the first time decided to get all feisty with me when I was in a hurry, tangling, snarling, and breaking several times. That's what had me working feverishly to get them done in time to ship for Christmas, in the end.
Been watching too much Torchwood, I think. Don't get me wrong; the absolutely lovely Captain Jack Harkness dreams I wound up having last night were most welcome. Even so, it's a lot darker than Dr. Who, and I get the feeling that the wonderful dreams could easily turn into scary, scary nightmares if I keep watching the episodes with Eric right before bed, like we've been doing.
one year ago:
If it weren't for the rare nugget of my childhood that I would want to preserve (the dollhouse is a good example), I'd be tempted to just sell the whole thing to somebody who'll come in with a dumpster and a shovel.
two years ago:
I swear, babies are like engagement rings that way; the weeks after Eric proposed to me saw a huge flurry of proposals among our acquaintances in college.
three years ago:
"I feel better!" he chirped, and he clocked me over the head with his menu.
four years ago:
Your quirky humor is just one of the things I love about you, and I'll always cherish the small ways you told me you loved me without even saying it.
five years ago:
Eric had managed, for a moment, to take his mind off our troubles; who was I to drag him back?
six years ago:
I've come to see that just about every woman, before they first see or hear that undeniable proof of their baby, feels a little nervous that she might just be experiencing a "hysterical pregnancy."
seven years ago:
At the big Christmas dinner at his aunt's house, he announced to everybody that we were in the actual process of trying to produce the newest Richmond.
In the ears:|
Eric flipping around the TV
On the Bookshelf:
Photos, old and new,