Ups and Downs

The MLK student holiday was a pretty stark contrast to the miraculous glow of Sunday. The elder siblings woke sniping one another like true warriors of the Gender Wars. Big Sis was armed with her manipulative tears and jeers while Big Bro angrily batoned his hatches and assembled his artilery for defense of His Room. He even tried to ban *me* from His Room, but. . . Sorry Charlie. Resistance is futile. You will be Gaminated, even in *your* room. There is a very solid reason your door doesnae have a lock on it. No, I didnae enlighten him to that last part. All in the fullness of time. . .

I was feeling the strain of Peacekeeping by the time Hubs punched out of his salaried gig and joined our ball games on the porch. Over-worked peacekeepers can get pretty snipey in their own rights. The chemistry change of Hubby's presence was an immeasurable relief. All's well that ends well, I s'pose. Gampy and the genderized siblings ended the day in the lego room with restful, bi-gender harmonies.

My Gam-sense believes the children are feeling guilty for finding happiness without Daddy and Mommy. Just a sense. Accurate data unavailable. The physical fact is that the elder sibs made it through the day without bloodshed. Baby Sis wasnae much affected by the sibilations. She seemed to shrug and baby-say, "Sibs will be sibs. Go figure. I got a life to discover."

Big Bro woke me during the early bewitching hours saying he was afraid of the dark. I opened the covers of the big bed and welcomed him in, then wallowed in envy for a bit as his gentle snores fell back to sleep rhythms almost immediately while I listened, unable to follow his restful example. Sigh. . . My morning meditations had a couple extra suduko puzzles in it this morning, along with a lightweight surf on Numerology. I stopped studying Numerology when it was identified as a part of my arithmomania, but I still peek in on occasion with the temptation to test if my arithmomania is healed far enough to remember I was once considered a math prodigy a few short decades ago. I still fear the addiction adage that one equation will be too many and a kajillion equations willnae be enough.

For now, it is nearly time to blow the whistle on the continuing morning calm. All aboard the school train. The porch construction here on the farm is far enough along that I hope to buy a test can of paint for the porch skirts after I finish the school run. Just hoping. . .