wearing robes

Though my boy usually wakes between five and five-thirty, some days Calvin and I unabashedly stay in our robes until nine or ten o’clock, like today.

Mornings Calvin usually enjoys spinning in his industrial strength johnny-jump-up and so I try to take advantage of this time to get some things done while my hands are free from their otherwise constant tether to him.

I finish my coffee. I write. I read and answer emails. I do things that allow me to keep an eye on him like rinse dishes, empty the dishwasher, and eat breakfast. Today I began recalculating his meals, called for refills on a few of his six medications and special ordered his special yogurt. Often I research new epilepsy treatments, call his dietitian, his doctors, his nurse, and fold laundry. Sometimes, though not often enough, I vacuum or sweep. Rarely, I read the news.

So when the rest of the world is off to work or to the farmer's market or perhaps embarking on the day's fishing expedition, we're still handsomely clad in our fleece.

Who has time to get dressed?

photo by Michael Kolster

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