Noah’s been downstairs 20 with V. minutes and so far no tears. I’m sure they’ll start soon, but that’s an improvement over yesterday. I do agree that it’s probably the worst sort of arrangement in some ways – I’m here, but not here for him, and he doesn’t understand that. But it does really help me that I can hear what’s going on, even if it’s hard to hear it. And if my observation and instinct on V. keeps working out, I think if he does adjust it will be really good.
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Today’s organic veggie box day and that makes Lyria happy. And Noah too; once the box arrives, usually around 4 pm, Lyr brings it into the kitchen and she and Noah sit and sort through it and then she washes one of the things – whatever he’s glommed onto – and he carries it around with pride while the rest gets put away.
I still constantly end up with too much kale, but I can’t quite bring myself to substitute it. I just end up hiding it in everything. I still end up supplementing a bit from the grocery store – zucchini, for example, has not come in the box, and Noah goes through massive quantities of frozen peas, plus I usually use a bag of frozen veggies a week due to lack of time to chop on particular days. But I have noticed that the regularity of its arrival and the variety of stuff it contains forces us to be more creative and eat more vegetables and that is only a good thing. Last night we had a “use up before new box arrives” vegetable + chickpea stew and it was very yummy.
The big surprise so far is that Noah really liked baby bok choy. There’s a veggie it would not have occured to me to give him had it not arrived on our doorstep.
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Yesterday while I was not-working-with-crying-in-background I had one of those “gifted child” moments where I corrected a fact in someone’s (almost entirely) erroneous essay online. I can ignore 999/1000 idiot things on the Internet but sometimes I just get that feeling that I must as some kind of citizenly duty step in and point out something like, you know, a completely wrong fact. This is almost entirely the fault of my high school, where coming to class drunk was tolerated much better than coming to class with incorrect information.
But the truth is that except where it is in fact my job, it’s just - not. On that note I think I will go do my job!
