In one week

This week, I have picked 22 cups of black raspberries.  I have picked five buckets of summer apples, and fourteen buckets of apricots.  I have also picked four cups of currants.

I have made five trays of apricot fruit leather, canned seven quarts of apricots, and made fifteen trays of dried apples.  I have washed and taken stems off of eight cups of currants, and cleaned and frozen 20 cups of raspberries.

I have vacuumed twice, run four loads of laundry, cleaned five bathrooms, made eight beds, run three loads of dishes, and cleaned about forty pots.

I have driven hundreds of miles, applied four layers of sunscreen, enforced reading time, math time, piano practice time, cleaning time.  Bed time.  Running practice time.

I have played four board games.  I have endured many episodes of Johnny Test.  I have cooked ten meals, and assembled the cold ingredients for the others that I did not cook.

I have given two haircuts, and then fixed one of those haircuts the next day.  I have cleaned out a clogged drain, with green goo, a plunger, and an old toothbrush.

I have weeded enough mint and bindweed to fill a giant green bin.  I thinned the pink apples.  I cleared the brambles out from around the beehive.

I wrote 41 pages of research writing, and crafted dozens of fine figures.  I met with three students and four faculty.  I sent out exam scores.  I found an error in my paper.  I could not fix it, but I found a way around it.  I became depressed as my collaborator read his reviews, explaining why his grant was not funded (they don't think we'll make progress using our current methods).

I have fallen into bed exhausted, and then lain in bed with my heart beating fast, my mind skimming over all the tasks that needed to be completed, the chores and obligations.  I have looked up at the ceiling in fear and asked, what am I forgetting that is keeping me from sleeping?

I have been driving down the road from swimming lessons, wet boy in the back seat with pink lines around his eyes from goggles, my research results collapsing in the back of my head, thinking, this is what the rest of my life will be like.  And then I contemplated changing jobs.  Made a list in my head of the people I should network with in case I decide to make that happen.  Weighed pros and cons.  All between State Street and 800 East.

I have walked in the early morning beside my boy, while he tells me things that make me laugh and laugh.  I have taken hugs and forehead kisses.  I have shared stories of Sampson (haircuts) and friendship (Jonathan).  We have stared at the ants, crawling all over each other before the sun rises.  He has told of water fights, of choosing souvenirs at camp, of the difficulties of trying to work with a partner when both boys are nine years old.

I have listened to the sprinklers at 4am.  Turned off the fruit dehydrator at 5:30.  Gone running at 6:20.

I have lived.  I have worked.  And overall, it was a good week. And I would do it again.  I could do it again. If I had to.

But wow, I can't believe how much I'm looking forward to Tim coming home in a few days.