I'm writing from Nan's room. Again. It's becoming a tradition. I lay her down, I leave the room, the party hats and noisemakers come out from under her mattress, I come back into the room, sit in the rocking chair in the corner, and she zonks out within seconds. I could probably leave now, but it's very peaceful back here. No phone, no yowling cats, no doorbell... in a weird way, I've come to enjoy the twenty minutes or so of peace every afternoon. And she's getting to sleep. I've probably set up something that will bite me in the butt, but for now, I'm gonna live with it.
I had a sanity-saving evening out yesterday, with my dear friend Sue. Sue and I have known each other since I was 15 and she was 16-- nearly twenty years. She became an adopted member of my family. We would spend hours with each other every day, and then go home and talk on the phone until our parents demanded we free the line. We have remained close, and we have been fortunate enough to meet at least once a month over the last few months-- no small feat with my work/kid schedule, and her three kid circus, now with a new job added on top. We drank beer, ate delicious soft pretzels, and laughed and laughed and laughed. I felt like a new person. And then today I got to meet my friend Pam for lunch-- I feel so decadent. Outings without the child TWO TIMES IN ONE WEEK! God bless preschool, and bless Grandma, to boot. But I feel recharged, and ready to tackle my toddler anew. Not literally. Figuratively. (Earlier this week, it was literal...) I forget how much I thrive on people. My job is great, and I'm glad I'm able to stay home with Nan and work, but I miss basic human contact with people to whom I'm not related by marriage or blood. Every time I have a lovely evening out, I resolve to do this more frequently, but it inevitably falls to the wayside as life intervenes. I hope that doesn't happen this time.