The other shoe

I’m at home with a vomiting 7-year-old. Miss 5 started it on Saturday (over dinner), and given that they were sharing a drink bottle on Saturday morning, I’ve been waiting for this all week.

He tried coming upstairs, threw up and decided to go back to bed. After a while, a sip of water and one bite of banana, I asked if I could go hang the washing out. He said he’d rather I stayed with him in his room. Two minutes later he was sick again. His room is quite dark and not very warm and messy and there are no comfortable seats so I’m sitting on the floor next to the heater trying to get the readings done for tomorrow’s study group, which I may not be able to get to. And the readings are hard and very boring. So I’m blogging instead.

It’s holidays at the moment, which means that I don’t have classes so I planned to spend my time reading articles and summarising them and trying to study for the test in the first week of the next term. I have two theses waiting for me at the desk at the Central Library. I’m only allowed to read them there. I was going to do some of that and then walk down to Unipol with my mum to pick up tickets to the concert we’re going to on Saturday evening. Instead I gave her my student ID card and some cash before she took the other kids to school for me.

Mr 7 won’t be going to soccer practice this evening. He might not make it to the game on Saturday morning. Two members of the team are on holiday in Hawaii at the moment and Mr 7’s class friend who was keen to join the team and cover the shortfall in players was told by the coach that they didn’t want him for the whole season, just for while people were away. He didn’t like that idea (and fair enough too!) so if Mr 7 can’t play this Saturday, I think the team will only have four players and may have to forfeit. I must say, I’m feeling a little smug about that. I can kind of understand why the coach doesn’t want too many players on the team – it means less time playing for everyone – but Mr 7’s friend was so excited at the thought of playing with Mr 7 and really gutted that it didn’t work out. I felt terrible for giving him the wrong idea, and now I feel a tiny bit pleased that someone is going to be punished for making me feel bad.

Wo-o-oh FEEEEEELings…

We like to look so mature and adult, don’t we? Especially us mums. But really, on the inside, we’re not all that different from our kids. We just (usually) do a better job of not showing it.

Mr 7 is watching dinosaur movies on the other laptop. To me they are almost as boring as my readings. He has watched them over and over and over again… 

Enough complaining. Let’s see if I can get one more section summarised before I take another internet break.

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