There was a post in the NY Times (Good Night and Tough Luck) the other day which just about summed up the household. Lars sent it to me because it seemed that the author/artist had moved in to our house without our noticing and succinctly encapsulated our benighted (heh) quest for sleep. The only thing he missed was our personal cross to bear: one of us wakes up, the other wakes up, and then we both stay awake because we're worried we're keeping the other awake. Ouch. Other than these mundane misfortunes, the transition to Kindergarten has not been a smooth one. Apparently, unlike most children, our son believes that we're better/more interesting/infinitely cooler than being at school with kids his own age. This is a serious hurdle we didn't consider. How could being with us be better than being with kids out of his parents' sight for hours? Who didn't crave that as soon as one could walk? Ours, apparently, so every morning thus far he has slipped into what we affectionately dub "barnacle mode" where he clings like said crustacean onto our leg and won't let go. That this is embarrassing for all parties hasn't occurred to him yet. I'm waiting.
And Dad is going into Round 2 of hormone therapy, so there will be a host of posts to write as more information starts coming in from all the doctors again. We'll be reviewing his PSA numbers soon with the oncologist and his urologist, but really, for the time being the biggest pain in the hiney is his stupid arthritis. He's still chipper about the whole affair ("I'm doing pretty good for a guy with a mortal illness," he quipped to my best friend when she asked how he was) and doggedly going through his house with a fine-tooth comb to pick out plums of art for friends and loved ones. It's weird and slightly macabre, but he's quite happy to do it and it really seems to make him feel a sense of closure which is a strange sort of gift. As Ted Kennedy's wife said about his final months, "It was as though he got his victory lap," a beautiful sort of way to look at an illness like this. I think Dad is running his victory lap.
Anyway, my absence has more to do with kindergarten craziness than anything else. I hope that once we've all settled into routines again I can spend some more time waxing pathetic here. Thanks for tuning in anyway.