Cliff has been doing a lot of work in the garage, trying to clear out some of the clutter and junk in a valiant effort to make space for one of our cars this winter. In the process of digging through bags and boxes out there, he uncovered a small treasure trove of pre-marriage apparel–shirts and sweaters of his that still fit! He happily brought them inside and restocked his closet. I didn’t look too closely at any of these items when he first brought them in, assuming that that most hideous bits of his wardrobe had been discarded early on in our relationship. Now… I am in no way a fashionista; you couldn’t even call me stylish. I am no harsh judge when it comes to clothing, am really quite forgiving, actually, but I am also not without the ability to spot serious faux pas. I’m telling you this because of what happened next after Cliff’s duds discovery.

So this morning I am sitting in the living room, checking on my email when Cliff comes in sporting one of the shirts he uncovered yesterday. He is quite proud of his shirt and how well it fits and how it only smells a little musty. I stare at him for a moment, trying to formulate something polite to say while also trying to decide where to focus my eyes. There was a lot going on on that shirt… Eventually I was able to determine that there was some sort of outdoors pattern on it–leaves and oars and perhaps birds. It didn’t look bad, per se, just a bit busy, so I patted my husband’s shoulder and decided not to say anything more.

The Boy emerged a few moments later, saw his dad sitting on the couch and came over to join him. After a moment he said, “Is that an ‘I Spy’ shirt?”

“Hmm,” said Cliff. “Does it have a lot of pictures on it?”

“Yeah,” the Boy replied. “It’s got leaves and birds and oars and backpacks and cameras and bats…” He proceeded to study the print for a few minutes to see what else he could find on it.

Henceforth this particular shirt will always be known as the ‘I Spy’ shirt. It is an interesting fashion choice, and an entertaining one as well, it seems. I can’t wait to see what else appears out of Cliff’s closet in the next few days.

In the wee hours of this morning I turned over, plumped my pillow, and accidentally found that sweet spot in the bed. You know the one I’m talking about–the one that makes every muscle in your body simultaneously say, “Ahhhhhhh!” I immediately slipped into the kind of deep best sleep that usually only graces my life a few minutes before I am required to get up and get moving. This would have been a generous and much needed blessing of rest except for one thing…

A couple of weeks ago I pulled a muscle in my back while raking leaves (stupid beautiful autumn leaves! why must you fall in my yard!). It has slowly been improving and then getting worse and then improving again as injured backs are wont to do. I have been alternately struggling to put on socks in the morning and wondering if I will ever be able to stand up straight again. Still, I was well on my way to mended this weekend except for one thing…

You remember that dead-to-the-world sleep in the sweet spot in the bed? The result of finding that nirvana of all spots was absolutely no movement whatsoever for at least a couple of hours. And then I started dreaming. I started dreaming that small children were punching me in the hip and lower back… and it really hurt! I fought with them for what seemed like a really long time, but they just wouldn’t LAY OFF, the little monsters! That’s when I woke up, but the small, iron-fisted children kept punching me… and I realized what I was feeling was my back spasming over and over and OVER again.

So I have spent the better part of the day hobbling around like an octogenarian in need of a hip replacement.

My day didn’t get much better at work. I arrived just in time to be IM’ed by three people all at once while two lines on my phone rang, and email poured into my Inbox. Sigh. And then it was time to limp off to pick up the kinder from school. Things started to improve momentarily. The Girl seemed to have a good day (Thank GOODNESS! There’s nothing more painful than dealing with the Girl after a bad day… NOTHING!), and was enthusiastic about choir practice later this evening and her performance on a couple of tests. I was all geared up for a pleasant afternoon, except for one thing…

The Boy seems to have struggled nearly as much as me today. When we got home, the Girl commandeered the computer, leaving the Boy at loose ends. Then he wanted a snack, but couldn’t find the cheesy crackers he wanted and nothing else sounded good. I offered to let him use my laptop to watch a cartoon or play a game, and I thought that had fixed the problem, but as I got things setup for him, I noticed him standing in the hallway looking positively devastated.

“What’s wrong,” I asked.

“Just leave me alone for a minute,” he said, his face crumpling into tears.

Eventually I was able to coax him into my arms, and this is the story he spilled out:

The Boy: Mrs. M forgot to change me to green again.
Me: What does that mean?
The Boy: On the chart! She was supposed to change me to green, but she forgot.
Me: Oh… what color are you now?
The Boy: Red.
Me: Why are you red?
The Boy: For not listening. First she’s supposed to make you yellow, but she made me red, not yellow, and then she forgot to turn me back to green. And I was listening!
Me: Why did she make you red?
The Boy: She said I wasn’t paying attention, but I was, I just didn’t understand what the question was.
Me: Did you tell her you didn’t understand.
The Boy: Yes! But she just made me red! My life is changing, and everyday I am turning yellow, red, yellow, red, and not green!
Me: Well, maybe I should talk to Mrs. M.
The Boy: Yeah, cuz kids are tattling to her and I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!!!

Definitely a bad day for the Boy, too. So for the first time ever I get to chat with a teacher about behavior issues… which is so bizarre, because the Boy just doesn’t misbehave much. That, coupled with my aching back and too much work has added up to one rough Monday. Some Mondays are like that, as Alexander’s mother says… even in Connecticut.

I made a mistake.

A few years ago, the Girl was well and truly addicted to a computer game. It’s all she wanted to do. We fought with her constantly, trying to draw her away from the computer screen. We eventually weaned her off the game, but it was all very painful. Since then, the Girl has learned that moderation is a much better way to go. She still likes to play the odd computer game, but rarely has time for more than a few minutes of game-play/surfing before school or chores or sports or her social life calls her away.

The other day she was playing a game on Pop Cap. It looked like fun, so I pulled it up on my laptop and started playing, too. The Boy spied us playing, and decided he wanted to try it out. This is where my mistake comes in….

I let him.

He has now taught himself, through ferocious bouts of trial and error, how to play just about every game on the site. They still frustrate him sometimes, which often results in temper tantrums and tears. When things are going well, it is extremely difficult to tear him away from the computer screen. It is the first thing he asks to do when he gets home from school, and the last thing he begs to do before going to bed. He is well and truly addicted.

You would’ve thought I’d learned my lesson the first time around. Yeah, no.

ASIDE: Just Friends: So the Girl went out with her ex last night. They’re going to try to be ‘just friends.’ I’m thinking that might be okay for the Girl, but I’m worried about her ex… ‘Just friends’… does that ever really work out?

ASIDE: Learning How to Play Checkers: After ‘winning’ several games of checkers, the Boy said, “Next time maybe I’ll let you get kinged and then I’ll get kinged and then you can jump one of my kings or double jump my ones that are not kings and maybe you can say, ‘I win! I win!’ like I always get to do.” …Mayhaps we’ve gone a bit too easy on the lad.