Last week I buckled down to the kitchen table. I got an hour of school in with M, then one with B, each day. I didn’t update the blog while they did chores, look to see if anyone had downloaded my pattern on Ravelry, do dishes, or any of the other things I like to do first – just pushed the kids to keep a schedule. K decided to quit sleeping for the first 4 days, so by Saturday, I felt utterly wrung out. I dreamed that B died. When I woke up it turned out that DH had also dreamed that B was dead. Too much school work, my subconscious must be saying.
I fretted superstitiously about the dreams a bit, but even if God did send messages to Pharaoh with dreams, mine also had Han Solo and an ill advised stop on Tatuine as well as B dying – so after that second cup of coffee, I dismissed the divine warning theory and returned to the too much school theory. Once B was up, I insisted on a hug even if he is almost a teen ager – he agreed as long as it was dignified. Once he’d had his breakfast, and come awake, I asked what he thought of the week of structured homeschool.
“I like it mom, we are getting somewhere.”
Oh, well, maybe the dream means school is killing ME.