Yesterday, I wondered if my week without my boys would make me the most productive person on the planet or if it would drive me completely and totally insane. I am now beginning to consider a third, previously unforeseen option: I just might become a complete and total sloth. Maybe I'm one of those people who only has two speeds, and without my boys keeping me on my toes, I will go from Mach 3 to zero.
My animals saw to it I didn't do anything crazy like sleep in without the kiddos around. This morning we found out the diner where Adam and I met and he later proposed is closing. (The same diner in Throwaway, btw) This filled the morning with a flurry of messages between us and friends we haven't seen in eons. My mother-in-law took the boys to breakfast there so they could see the place before it was gone. It's 1 pm as I type this and I'm fighting the urge for the billionth time to not message my oldest to see how breakfast went. All I've gotten so far was that they remembered Adam as "the Elvis guy." I worked there for years, but apparently one has to look like Elvis to be remembered. And the fact that I can't go one day without talking to my kids has me a little concerned for myself. Have I become that mom?
So far today, I've updated the Vox Dei website to include an author page, written a post for the Vox Dei blog, gone through my entire to-do list for Vox Dei, rescued a baby chicken, contemplated pulling together a TJ's reunion (still haven't ruled that one out), gone grocery shopping and caught up on the local gossip whether I wanted it or not. (You can't go to the coffee shop and not get local gossip.) And I've caught up on submissions for Vox Dei. (So hey, if you've contemplated submitting to us, now would be a great time.)
But all I really want to do is curl up with a good book or rom com movie. I thought real hard about tackling the boys' rooms as threatened, but have just about convinced myself it would be better parenting to leave them for the boys to clean. It has nothing to do with the current overwhelming desire to nap.
Rolling hills that had been vibrant green just weeks ago were now muted in tone, as if they were taking a deep breath before bursting into the song of fall.