I am in flux.
Flux at work.
Flux of the body.
Flux with the child going to school this week.
The only thing that isn't in flux is my hometime and I want to curl up and hibernate and wait for everything to settle down and work itself out.

We got new doors yesterday.  Now that they are in I feel comfortable telling you that our back door has been held shut by various implements such as trashbags, recycling bins, Coleman coolers for the past year or so.  It was so bad that the lock didn't work and the catch didn't catch and if a bird flapped it's wings the sheer force would blow the door right open.  It wasn't even a real exterior door.  It was something that you'd put in a breezeway or veranda or something.  It was probably 40 years old.  It was bad.  Ugly.  Not safe.

So, we got one of those industrial strength security doors and a big old super-insulated steel door that I would call a "man-door" but that just seems to be a term local to where I grew up because no one says "man-door" out here in these parts and a new super-insulated steel door for the front that I wouldn't call a "man-door" because it's sort of pretty with it's four little cut-out windows up top.

Staying home while the men come in to do the work is always uncomfortable for me.  The just walk in and out of the house with their big old boots and tools and stuff and I don't know whether to look up and smile or just ignore them or what.  I go for the ignore, and then ask them if they need anything when they seem to be slowing down.
Then there's the matter of the tip.  I always tip.  Especially when it involves strange men who have access to the keys to my house.
$25 in exchange for not raping me and leaving with my trust that they aren't coming back unless I need them and my assumption that they didn't take anything while they were here.
Maybe it would have been $30 if the one didn't pee on the seat (I know it was him because I cleaned the seat before they got there) and the other didn't put his used coffee spoon down on the counter rather than on the napkin I provided expressly for that purpose.  He could have at least licked the bottom like I did that morning.  Right before I stuck it back in the loop on the sugar bowl, hours before he used it.

What? 

***

Jake is loving school by the way.  Today is pool day, and I'm hoping it makes him tired and cuddly this evening.  He's done a bit of regressing, as I expected he would.  It makes bedtime a bit trying, but it really isn't so bad.  He sticks his thumb in his mouth now.  He was never a thumb sucker ever before in his whole life.  He whines.  But hey, he was doing his fair share of that before school.  The best part is that when he goes to sleep he wants to "sleep on my belly" which I secretly love.  So, just about every night this week he has fallen asleep with his head in my neck, telling me all about how happy his heart is when it is beating against mine and how nice his dreams are when he can smell my hair.  That kid.  I tell you.

Oh, and he hasn't picked up any bad words or nasty habits from his classmates.  Three cheers for that.

***

Next week begins the process for kindergarten admissions.  Somewhere along the line from the time we moved to now they switched the cutoff streets for the elementary schools and now we are zoned for a school that Jake will absolutely not be going to.  Sucks.  But, we would rather him in a Charter School anyway so now begins the blood and the sweat and the tears to make sure the "lottery" works in our favor.  

Sure there are always the eighty billion Catholic Schools in the neighborhood, but that isn't really an option for us.

Home school?  As a last resort. 

I'm not so much the home schooler type.

Moving to a new district?

I'd rather home school than move.

I had two days off in the middle of the week this week.  Wednesday was a snow day and I spent it home with Jake.  I try.  I really do.  I try to like staying at home with my child, whom I love more than anything in this world.  I tried playing games, going out in the snow, getting stuff done around the house.  I just can't do it.  

Well, I did.  And damned well.

But I just can't love it.

Thursday was the doors day and I got to spend it with my books and Netflix.  I got things done around the house.  It was glorious.  I crave solitude and when I get it I eat up every single moment.

I could be a housewife long before I could be a stay at home mom.  That makes me feel shitty, but less shitty than it used to.

I think the balance would be a part time job while Jake is in school.  I could run errands and get groceries and prep dinner and do room mother/chauffeur stuff and still log hours in the workforce.

Chances of that all actually happening?

Well, don't bet anything valuable on it.

***

In an effort to feel that Yes!  I am capable of making a difference in the world!  And every little thing I do matters! I'm reading The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell.  I've only recently ever even heard of Malcolm Gladwell and I haven't read any of this other stuff, but this is pretty interesting.  Being a connector and collector of people myself it's fun to read about what someone else has to say on the subject.  Who knew being that was an actual concept?  Who doesn't love something that makes them feel self-important?

I'm on the fence about buying a Kindle/Nook/whatever.  I think it's definitely a space saver, and a paper saver, but I don't love buying one more thing that will end up in a landfill forever once it's done for.  I mean, paper at least recycles.
But is all the energy required to make and distribute a paper book multiplied by all the books I read greater than the manufacturing and recharging and disposal of something the size of a scientific calculator?
And I like passing my books along to someone else after I'm finished.  Is there a pass-along option on these things?
I have my own tiny laptop, and I'm sure that I can download the free reader apps, but I don't lug my netbook around with me.  Battery life isn't very long and I get a headache from the screen.

This is why  my life is so hard.
This is why I find myself in various stages of flux.
Because nothing is ever simple.