“Bye mom,” my son mumbled as he shuffled over to the counter where I was measuring out insulin for our diabetic cat. I had just finished forcing the hyperthyroid medicine on her.
It was 6:30. I could hear my one of my boys’ alarms going off, as it had been for 15 minutes, and the third was sleeping in because he had a delayed start.
“Hold on a second, I didn’t put any snacks in your backpack.”
“Oh.”
“Grab a protein bar and a water, and do you want some crackers, since you didn’t like the almonds so much?”
“No, a bar is fine. I have my presentation today…”
“Oh my gosh, honey! That’s right, and I never looked at your slides! I’m sorry!”
Friday, September 30, 2016
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Keeping track of everything (trying to, anyway)
My middle son had texted me moments before, as I was pulling into the driveway, asking me if I'd stop at Rite Aid and get him a charger because his phone was on 6% and his charger was no longer working even if he positioned it in the magical way that he'd been doing to limp along for "like weeks, Mom!" Funny how the day before was the first I'd heard of it. I imagine my kids think I can keep track of -- or even anticipate -- their needs?
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