It’s the end of Week Two and I’m sure you’re all wondering… Where is Jaimie? How is James doing? Why haven’t there been any updates on the blog? What is HA-PPEN-ING?
In a word: bedtime.
I’ve been putting Jacob to bed twelve times a night. And then it’s 10:30 and zzzzzzzz. But let me back up.
So this week it’s been raining. And James has been dodging mudslides and taking back roads and guest room-hopping as the Santa Cruz mountains seem determined to visit the beach. He’s spent a lot of time visiting friends and going to his appointments and eating wonderful soups made by Grandma Suzy. He’s doing well, though his throat is starting to hurt and it’s getting harder to swallow. He’s home in San Luis for the weekend and we had a beautiful walk/bike/scooter ride to the beach today and a quiet, rainy afternoon.
The boys and I’ve been dodging a few rockslides of our own. Most days this week have been wet and stormy and a bit of a blur. I can’t seem to sleep past 5:30am. I pack lunches and pour cereal and peel hardboiled eggs and demand little people wear clothes and jackets. Nate throws his pajama pants on the ceiling fan and then tries to turn it on so he can watch them fly off. He likes to dip his “waterproof” shoes in the raging river that is the gutter at school. Jake has days where he wakes-up and miraculously does his homework without being asked. And other days where he thinks he’s going to refuse to go to school and that that might actually be an option…
And then I go to work.
I am so grateful Nonna and Papa are here to pick-up the boys and bring them home in the evenings. The night I did it, I picked them up at 5:30pm and they were the second to last kids to leave school. Clearly we’re not in the Bay Area anymore.
Then I get home and I turn into a whirling dervish of dinner and bath time and homework and Harry Potter script reading and tooth brushing and ‘nuggling (snuggling) and bedtime. And bedtime. And bedtime. And bedtime.
Natesy still pretty much climbs in his bed and is out like a light. Jake on the other hand… is reverting back to three or four years ago where he is sneaking and lurking and inventing four hundred reasons why he can’t sleep. He reads. He draws. He drinks milk. He listens to soothing music. He does deep breathing. I lay down with him. I bring him water.
Yesterday he told me very seriously that he doesn’t know what will help. He needs “a cure.”
Tonight is the first night in two weeks that Jakey went to bed and stayed put. Maybe he’s tired from the bike ride to the beach and driftwood sword-fighting with Logan. Or maybe he can finally relax ’cause Daddy’s home.
I think we’ve found our cure.