I apologize for all the complaining about my show I've done this week. I knew if I opened the floodgates it would all start coming out. I try to not do too much ranting here, and I have definitely gone over that line- for my own self, at least. I think I may delete posts or portions of posts, because I just hate having all that crap here online. Last night the director complimented me on my positive nature (apparently I am passing the patience test, at least outwardly) and the musical director (the same lady I loved who did our opera) gushed about me, which was nice, and of course makes me feel all Scroogish about the other things I've said. Not that every word wasn't true, but, as always, not the whole truth. So enough of that. For now, anyways.
I had planned to spend the entire day scrapbooking today. I haven't done much lately, but last week managed to spend a few hours getting started on my England scrapbook, and was really getting excited about it. I was looking forward to having a day of working at my own pace on something creative. Ah... but the best laid plans...
The May Queen is home sick from school today. As soon as I arrived home from dropping her off I received the message to come and retrieve her. She is not terribly sick, a fever just high enough to be sent home from school and the vague complaints of shifting symptoms. I am torn between my own disgruntled feelings of not getting "my day," my desire to make my child feel well, and my attempts to not make a sick day at home too fun so that she gets any ideas about faking it in the future. If she just wanted to curl up and sleep together on the couch I would be all for it, but playing with Polly Pockets on the cold living room floor is frankly a little too hard for my tired and cranky self today.
So we are on this delicate balance beam, she and I, at home together today. Neither of us feeling our best, and no real medicine to cure our ills.