We’ve been real tired ’round these parts. While the other schools in the area have wound down, YaYa’s school seems to have caught a second wind so-to-speak. Seems like every day this week there has been 1-2 tests on the books and a crap load of homework as well. Meanwhile, he’s still trying to find time to finish the backlogged make up work from the time period of illness, fractured bones, and dying family.
I honestly don’t know how exactly that translates to my being tired, but it does. I mean, I’m not doing much in the way of helping him complete his work. I am only doing the hovering mom thing: providing food, drink, moral support, and early morning wake up calls.
Last night, after picking up the clusters of clutter, paying bills, and other essential tasks, it was way past midnight when I discovered the boy curled up in fetal position in the middle of his bed (sideways). The iPad with his electronic flashcards was to one side of him, and his history book on the floor with his blanket. It was clear that he’d fallen asleep in the midst of it.
I got him straightened out, pulled the covers over him, and turned out the lights. “Good night, Mom,” he mumbled, “I love you.” I kissed him on the forehead, feeling grateful for my amazing son, and said, “I love you too. Good night.”