I hope we’re able to laugh about this someday.

I hope we’re able to laugh about this someday.

Institute today went something like this: opening prayer, Simon needs some juice, spiritual thought, Oliver needs to nurse (insert battle with the nursing cover/Oliver/clothing), taking turns reading scriptures, Oliver needs to burp, discussion of miracles, Simon needs to use the potty, talk about how Moroni must have felt as the last surviving Nephite, Simon runs straight into a chair and jabs his ribs, I try to console him, Oliver gets upset that I’m not within his sight, I sit on the floor with both crying boys in my lap while the other member of the class shares some great insight (it was lost to me amidst the screaming), the boys calm down, we talk about hope as the knot in the end of the rope that keeps us hanging on when we’ve almost lost it, the class ends, I try to fill out the end-of-semester evaluation, Simon needs to use the potty (again), we say a prayer and partake of the refreshments (which Simon has been snacking away on the whole time), and then head out to catch the train.

Catching the train went like this: go through the turnstile, a train is coming, it’s a G train, but we don’t get there before the doors close, some cops need to get on, so the doors open and we get on too, but Simon wants to take the F train, he whines for 2 stops, we get off to transfer, we wait for a C train, an A train comes, we wait some more, another A train comes, we wait some more and a C train comes, but so does an announcement that the train is running express and will skip our stop, I am tired of waiting and tell Simon we’re going to have to walk from the express stop, then there’s another announcement that a local C train is right behind, so I change my mind, we get off and wait for it, Simon has his heart set on getting off at the express stop, he whines and cries the whole way home, stopping to to sit in the middle of the sidewalk, waving his bag with a muffin and bagel in it until they both ended up on the ground and I have to throw them away. More tears, more yelling. My grip on the knot in the end of my rope is slipping.

The rest of the day went like this: we get home, Simon wants juice (I say no), Simon wants milk (I say no), Simon sits in the refrigerator crying, I go in the living room and tell him to come to me when he stops crying, he comes in and sticks his finger down Oliver’s throat, I just about freak out, we read Wee Gillis, we have have lunch (yogurt for Simon, salad for me), Simon goes to bed, my grip on the rope has stabilized, Oliver eats, Oliver goes to bed, I eat a handful of chocolate chips, I work on a 90-minute shirt for Oliver, I watch some tv on hulu while I sew, I eat a handful of chocolate chips, Oliver wakes up, Simon wakes up, we get ready to go running, I chop up the veggies for dinner (crepes filled with zucchini, mushrooms, tomatoes, onions, and cheese), we run 6.2 miles and meet up with Micah, I’m climbing back up the rope, we come home, I feed Oliver, Micah makes the crepes, I cook the veggies, we eat, I head out the door (by myself!!!), take the train to book club, spend the evening chatting about A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, head home, pick up some Nutella and ice cream on the way, devour some crepes with Nutella and ice cream while chatting with Micah, I feel sane again. The knot has done its job.

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