I've been down with migraine all day long. Well, actually, since 3 p.m. last Thursday. But today, I couldn't even get up out of bed until it was time to make dinner, and even then I had to really concentrate to boil some spaghetti.
#1 Son was out most of the day with a church group, waterskiing and having a good time. I was really glad of it, though his little brothers were lonely. I struggled through the bedtime routine, having told #1 Son I'd be glad to hear more about his day once the other kids were taken care of.
But while I was in the other room singing lullabyes, who should call up but the Evil One. "Well, it looks like we'll be going to China on the 25th; I think I'll come pick you up tomorrow," she tells him. My first thought was, "You're not going to see your dad again until September..." Actually, I had a moment of "She's not supposed to come until Sunday-- Saturday at earliest!" But that was part of the whole train of thought: The Man's working till 11 tonight, he'll be leaving again early in the morning, and he's working late again tomorrow. He'll be devastated not to see his boy even to say goodbye...
I was good, though. I didn't yell or scream or even make a sarcastic remark. I did mention TM's work thing, as an "Isn't it a shame?" aside. I didn't mention how his brothers will cry when he up and leaves with hardly any warning. That's for me to deal with.
Some days I feel like quoting from Hook:
"I hate... I hate... I hate Peter Pan!" Only it's not Peter Pan, it's that nasty, nasty, selfish woman who gave birth to #1 Son. And I really hate feeling this way.