Monday was MLK day. We didn't have school. No one had school. Most schools were closed in honor of a great man who desired justice, fairness, who struggled peacefully and at great cost to have these ideals realized in a nation which *claimed* equality, but who victimized and oppressed many of its citizens. But that's not why we didn't have school. We didn't have school because Smurf didn't have school and said "come over and pick me up. We'll go hang out at Christopher Robin's house and make Vaxia characters."
Tuesday we did some school in the morning, then we left at 10 to pick up Honey Bee. Honey Bee had a doctor appointment that we drove her too. (I packed a school bag, and sweetling did some assignments in the waiting room, some.) We got back to our house a little before 2. We ate lunch (that hadn't happened yet). And did some more school. At 3:25, we attempted a math semester assessment. (which means i gave sweetling her assessment and left the room to go do laundry and sweep and mop the kitchen floor.) I came back in at 4 and sweetling had gotten 4 problems finished. I was a bit frustrated. A bit. CR can tell you all about it. At any rate, we didn't get nearly the amount of school accomplished that day as I had hoped for. Sweetling wound up sitting in the schoolroom at her desk with her math until it was dinner time. Still wasn't finished.
Wednesday. Wednesday is my WOW meetings. Sweetling lost her morning free time and worked before we left on the math that she didn't get finished yesterday. So, we went to wow in the morning, took a Christmas tree back to CR's house. Then came home and got a nice solid afternoon of schooling in. I was pleased.
Thursday was a great school day. Got everything on our list done, but we're still behind for the week. We did take time to do some cool math mind bender puzzles, because we came across them and she was so excited about them. Thursday night Sweetling starts complaining about a sore throat. We give her some cold meds before bed.
Friday. Sweetling wakes up sick. I also wake up with a sore throat and a headache. Sweetling is moaning and carrying on and refusing to speak. I decide, based on how I feel, that we probably have the same thing, and she's just being over dramatic. I give her some cold meds, and set her at the school list for the day. She takes a nap during lunch break, something that she never ever does. But we had a really productive morning, and we only have a *few* things to finish up. So, in the afternoon, I have her work some more. Now, most of her afternoon work is things that she can do on her own, with a minimum of supervision from me. So, not only do I set her back on her school work, but I refuse to give up the school room computer for her to use. (Two of her assignments are on line activities). Instead, I bring up the laptop and set it up at her desk, cause i want to use my computer to play on vaxia and continue to work on the character portraits I've been doing the past few days. (see the 12 previous posts.) Sweetling sits at her little desk with the lap top and works while Mommy plays. Sweetling gets done with her school work early, watches a couple tv shows, then goes back to bed and falls asleep for the second time that day.
Last night we had Family Night at church which is part of the planned activities for candidating a new children's pastor this weekend. Sweetling wakes up from her nap, and really wants to go. By the end of the night, I'm starting to feel worse. I still come home and play on vaxia and mess with my drawing more...even though i can tell i should just take cold meds and go to bed. Eventually I do just that.
I wake up at 4:50 this morning cause i can't breathe and i feel like crap. I take a second dose of antihistimines and go back to bed. I wake up at 10:30 this morning feeling like I've been hit by a pick up truck. I drag myself up to the bathroom, take more meds. Make hot chocolate and immediately feel that horrible, sinking, mother guilt that I made Sweetling do school yesterday even though she didn't feel well.
Now i'm going to make a second cup of hot chocolate. I wish I could say my confession makes me feel a little better, but it doesn't really.
Horrible sinking mother guilt is the pits for which there is no cure.