Random thoughts and musings of a single Mom striving to follow dreams and find pure BLISS.

Number 3 Surprises

Last night was date 3. Although D tells me not to downplay it so much if I'm just going to keep going out with him, but I've always been one to put the cart before the proverbial horse so I'm just taking everything with a slow and easy stride.

Plus, he's around a year out of a big relationship too; so, right now we are just enjoying each other's company. And we do...

There are several things I have noticed about him that I thought I'd share...

I do not fidget around him. I found myself sitting still and silent beside him, enjoying his arm around my shoulder and feeling him play with my hair and realized, "Whoa, I haven't moved or spoken in several minutes. That's a record." In fact I picked my head up and he just gently put it back on his shoulder and resumed playing with my hair. Seriously, you have no idea what it means to not be in constant motion; hell, I didn't even know what it was like until recently. Of course, I had to think back at that point for the definitive proof that at no time did I remember ever tapping, squirming, swaying, rocking, or rambling while in him presence. It's almost like I don't have to; like my brain decides to give my time off for good behavior and let me rest. Crazy wild.

I've always wondered what it was like to actually be calm and relaxed and for a few hours each weekend I get to find out. It's so super cool!!!

Regardless of what happens with this, I know know beyond a doubt that I will eventually marry someone calm who can transfer that calm to me.  I gotta live like that! 

 I just wish I knew how to do that on my own. *sigh*

5 Years Ago

*Disclaimer* If you think Katrina hit and destroyed New Orleans you should stop reading here because I'll know you are reading and it will just piss me off...

 My life naturally separates into two parts-Pre Katrina and Post Katrina. For years I pushed every thought, every emotion surrounding "the storm" that shattered my life, as well as so many lives, in twain.

I've denied myself the luxury of examining my feelings for five years now, so perhaps it's time for a bit of reflection-honest reflection. You see, faithful few, I had to be strong and take care of business when it happened (because my ex decided to be completely weak and useless) and a few months later I found out I was pregnant with my son. That was definitely NOT the time to become overly involved with my emotions-they were very occupied by hormones. (BTW, NO, T was not a Katrina baby. I had been off bc for over a year trying to have a baby; the timing was just ironic.) After that I was just told to get over it…now I think I just might.

August 29th marks the 5th anniversary of Katrina demolishing the Gulf Coast, namely the Mississippi Gulf Coast. You see, the eye of Ms. Katrina passed right over Bay Saint Louis, MS, damn near over the roof of my house to be exact.

Yep, I lived in a little rental house in Bay Saint Louis, south of the tracks. Now on August 30th the only thing left of that little house was a couple of walls (literally a couple), moldy wood and plaster, piles or bricks, and a yard dotted with Trivial Pursuit cards. Well, and of course all of my material possessions ruined and waterlogged throughout the house-3 days of clothing, photos, and my car are the only possessions that made it out. Oh, and the roof was perfect....I do so love irony.

I know it was perfect because I saw it on Google Earth when I was staying at TB’s house. (TB is my aunt.) I remember being SO excited that it was there. Feeling hopeful, I so completely crushed when I realized it was all a lie. That everything wasn’t going to be ok after all.

I remember driving into the town and not really understanding what I was seeing, but I still felt that it would be ok. I really did. I was really naive.

As I crested the tracks, I remember looking out and seeing the water. Again it didn't make sense. I'm not supposed to see the water. Where are all the houses? My brain was just not registering the piles of wood and bricks as the beautiful homes I had coveted and dreamed of owning one day were gone. They were just not there, just vague shells or shadows of what had been their former glory.

It was at that moment, at the top of the tracks, that I realized nothing was going to be ok. I felt my heart sink to my feet and my whole body began to shake. This just can't be happening. Please God this just can't be happening. Don't do this to me, please.

Every sense and sensation in my body shut down as I pulled into the driveway and looked at what was left of my former home. I knew even then it was my former home; that I would and could never live there again. How could I? Destruction of that nature can't be undone. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing.I didn't know just how right I was thinking that.

Before we'd even looked over the whole house I was ready to go. I just wanted to leave. The need crawled under my skin and spread until I could no longer feel my body. It was like I was no longer really there. I kept looking around for the camera crew and cheesy host with slicked back hair and toothy grin. Where was he? It's too much and now someone needs to tell me this is all a joke! Maybe I just need to wake up. Quick, I have to wake up or be let in on the joke before I throw up. Shit like that just doesn't happen. It just doesn't.

My chest hurt. I felt like I was drowning and I had no idea whether it was the suffocating heat and humidity or the overwhelming sense of life never being the way it was before.

By the time we stopped at St. Stanislaus and I saw that the ex would not be returning to work because there was only rubble where the band hall had been, I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to see anymore. I didn’t want to feel anymore. I just wanted to get in the car and drive until I couldn’t’ drive anymore. I wanted to be anywhere but on the Coast. Please God, if this is really not a dream and not a colossal joke, please just take me away from here. Please take me away.

I saw my (then) husband starting to unravel and knew that I had to be strong. I had to carry the weight. I had to “fix” everything. So, I plastered a timid smile on my face and asked to leave.

We drove to Pearl that night. I couldn’t face going to Pascagoula because I couldn’t trust my childhood home to be safe and I knew I couldn’t handle seeing it destroyed. (It was fine. No damage. No water. But lack of cell service prevented me from knowing that.) Unknown to me, the ex had used this to his advantage and used my dropped basket to plant a seed of hurt and doubt in my heart, claiming that family members had betrayed me in the worst way. That they were ashamed of me and would never accept me-only he would ever love, support, and understand me. Admittedly I was too addled and too damaged (and too busy trying to be a good wife) to see through his lies and allowed this to take over my heart until I could finally see him for what he really was…umm, that would be a liar.

I’m thankful for the three days I spent with Aunt Jan and Uncle Wayne in the aftermath. Uncle Wayne explained everything that was wrong with the investigations while watching CSI and Aunt Jan told me stories about her experiences after Camille. I remember allowing myself to cry in the shower that first night; so happy to have air conditioner, so happy to have hot water, so happy to not have to face the ruins of my life for a little while.

Knowing that you will never be taken care of, that you will never be allowed a moment of weakness because the person who’s job it is to help you is weak. I wasn’t 100 percent sure at that time, but I am now. That experience defined my marriage. I worked. He drank. I white knuckled myself controlling my fears and emotions to keep my world together. He allowed himself the luxuries of unraveling that I was never allowed to have. I think that was actually worse than the storm itself; knowing that everything I thought I had up to that point was worthless. Four years of empty.

Thank you God that I now can put that pain behind me and I can begin with a new slate-even if it is five years too late.

Shamless Plug

I want to take a moment to plug my friend D's new blog, As Yet Untitled . It is a great first post of a natural writer that has been burried under piles of exhaustion and self depretiation. I would encourage everyone to take a peek and offer words of wisdom and encouragment. Why? Well, because we've been friends forever and I live in constant hope that she will eventually believe in her own wonderfulness (I guess that's a word now) and talent. (Plus, I'm totally mentioned in the post!!)

Love and Possibilities

After doing such a stellar job last week, I don't even know where the wagon is anymore. For the past two days I have been SO far off the wagon I'm not sure where it went.

However, for the first time in a while I did not get all sad and self-defeatist about it; I just went to bed and woke up to start all over. It's amazing what happens when you allow yourself to actually like yourself.

Wow, that's one of the very few times I can ever remember thinking that exact phrase. Huh, I like myself. How cool is that shit!

It's funny, I've lost this same six pounds before (many times before actually) but I've never looked at myself and said, "Damn, Sis, you did good! And ya look good too! Great job!" This time I did.

This time I never thought in terms of "can't" but "don't want". I never told myself I couldn't have anything; I was instead choosing not to have it. And then I found I really didn't want it. Nothing nailed that home like walking down the bread and cookie isle, smelling each through the packaging yet not wanting any of it. Not even tempted. It was freeing. After living my entire life constantly thinking about food (either in terms of what I can have, should have, shouldn't have, won't have, didn't have, etc), I kinda feel like I'm making headway finally in the struggle to take charge of me. Like I'm finding me. Really discovering and taking charge of my body and my mind for the first time. I know I'm normally not all "New Agey" but this is just pretty cool. And a totally new feeling.  

One one hand I'm really sad it took this damn long, but on the other, I'm glad it's actually happening at all.


So, I can't actually remember if I blogged about having a mini date last weekend or not and, frankly, I'm too lazy to go back and look; so, if I didn't mention it...hey, I had a mini-date last Sunday.

And it seems that, after missing each other on chat for a couple of days, I have been asked out yet again. I guess I shouldn't be surprised because we both had fun and were very relaxed with one another. In fact, I can't remember the last time I didn't think about everythign I was about to say before I said it to a guy, just to make sure I wasn't being a dork.

Nothing serious. Just two people who have a bunch of stuff in common, hanging out and having a good time. Not really a relationship, more like partners in crime....

I can deal with that.  

I can hear the snaps...

Best writing advice ever!

Be in love with yr life
Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
Blow as deep as you want to blow
Write what you want bottomless from the bottom of the mind
Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
Write in recollection and amazement for yourself

Jack Kerouac

Give me a Break

I just had a long chat with my buddy, Aggie, because I received the most interesting thing in the mail today.......

a letter from "you know who"

Yep, that's right. "he" (I wanted you guys to realize that isn't capitalized on purpose) sent me a letter letting me know where he was transferred and will spend his time as a "guest of the state of MS".

Of course, he just could not stop there. Oh no!!! he had to continue...

  • he goes to counseling and AA meetings now (That might be better had he done that BEFORE there was a problem-just throwing that out there)
  • he prays daily for the 3 of us and is in the search for God (Keep looking, buck-O!)
  • he realizes how much he has hurt me (Umm, I'm not really sure he really has a fucking clue!)
  • he misses the kids and realizes he has never ween Cait walk or heard her voice (Perhaps, as before, that should have been a thought BEFORE he decided to get stupid!! just saying)
As I red the letter I found myself getting more and more pissed off and then... WHAM...tears. WTFHell!!  I mean, it's been almost a freaking year and a half since the world slipped sideways and I thought I'd made great stride in my recovery.

Now, Aggie tells me that I have, in fact made amazing strides and that it is not strange that it triggered an emotional response. We were married for 8 years after all. But it still just flies all over me that I wasted another tears, another sniffle, another second of my life thinking about him and what he has done to the kids.

You see,  I accept my responsibility in what happened. I made the choice to marry him. I made the choice to not leave him when I first became unhappy and the marriage was slipping southward. I made the choice to have not one, but two children, especially when I actually knew in my gut by the time I was pregnant with Cait that he was having an affair. God, help me I knew and I couldn't prove it. I knew it and I never had anything by my personal instincts screaming in my head. For that I take responsibility, but I do not, can not, will not ever take responsibility for the behavior exhibited by that "man" (and I use that term loosely) and the things he did to my children.

Although I must say that all of the things he took away (traditional family until, home of their own, someone to call daddy), those two little monkeys are as happy as any other kids their age, and happier in some ways. They will never have to see me cry on a daily basis or feel so sad and listless that I can hardly get out of bed or fly into a manic episode of scrubbing the entire house and then fly into a rage because someone else got credit for it or any of the countless other attractive behaviors that were pretty normal during my marriage.

So, my final question is whether I write him back to explain that I will never give him access to my children-that he allowed that ship to sail when he started fucking someone who wasn't me. he will never receive a single picture, letter, card, or drawing from from one of my children or about my children. Perhaps his parents will oblige him, but not me. Nope. Nope. Nope. Absofuckinglutly not! If the kids want to seek him out when they are adults and he is no longer a guest of the state that is between them and their personal Jesus, but Mommy aint' having a damn thing to do with it. I will not watch him hurt them again while I am in control of their lives.

To write and express my true and deep feelings or not? The Aggie says no because I do not need to become tangled up in all of that shit again, but part of me really wants to inflict as much pain as humanly possible since I cannot actually put my hands on him and physically hurt him. I'm not normally a violent person, but I have been spoiling to hit someone or something for about a year now since I never got the opportunity to look him dead in his eyes and hit him with the biggest thing I could grab in my little hands. And trust me, I can sharpen my word into tiny, poisonous daggers that will need heal properly, but is it worth it? Will it just make it harder to leave it all behind me? Or will I just always want that last taste of finality that only a scathing letter can truly bring? Perhaps I should write it and not send it, much like my letter to that girl.

What say you, faithful few? I trust your learned opinions. Write and send? Write and don't send? Don't write and leave it alone? Leave me a little message so I can take everyone's pulse to help make my decision.

I will say this...I do forgive. It is not aulturistic though; I forgive him only because it is good for MY soul. Right now the only thing rconcerning around my little mind is the well-being of my little three person family-Me, Cait, and T. Everything else in the world is just lagniappe and I will deal with all of that as I feel like it...and right now, I'm not really feeling like it.

A Boost

So, I made a new friend. I met him through a friend and he asked to take me out after us talking for a few days. Yep, I had a date.

I didn't have time to get nervous because half way to our meeting spot the heavens opened up and it began to pour like an Indian Monsoon. (And we all know how much I just loooooove to drive in the rain!)

Anyway, he was very nice. Cute in a geeky kind of way. Calm and polite. And....he kept telling me I was cute. Not just me in general, but specific things about me also.

I was very comfortable around him. He made me laugh and I made him laugh. And he fed me Indian food. (For those who have never had it, all I can say is YUMMM.) We ordered a couple of things and he kept putting food on my plate.

All in all it was a pretty nice, relaxing evening.

Even if nothing comes from it or I never see him again, I have a nice little boost of confidence and a new found love of Indian food. For now, that is just enough for me.

Oh I KNOW he didn't!

Let me just tell you, my ever loyal FF (faithful few), that I am about as pissed off as I can possible get about right now. In fact, I had to wait an extra hour after finding my "topic" today just so this post would be more than an example of Gangsta Rap-curse words with a bit of non curse words thrown in to almost make a complete thought. OH. MY. GOOD. GRACIOUS. BUT. I. AM. MAD!!!!

You see, I am a teacher. I've taught CCD (Catholic equivalent of Sunday school), high schoolers, adults, and my own children. I have tried to be anything other than a teacher, but have found that I am a teacher.


Well I have always seen teaching as my personal calling. (I know I usually don't get all "churchy" and choose to keep most of my religious views to myself due to growing up the lone Catholic among Baptists who thought all Catholics were going to Hell because we worship statues and aren't Christian, so hold on cause I mean business!!) No matter what I have ever tried to do in my life I have come back to teacher because I KNOW beyond a shadow that no matter how frustrated I get my frustration lies with "man" and not with the teaching itself.

Ya see, when you are truly called do DO or BE something, you will never find complete fulfillment until you answer that call. Translation, I can do any job I want, but will never find contentment in my soul until I teach.

Don't believe me? Read this...

1 Corinthians 12:28
And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, also those having gifts of healing, those able to help others, those with gifts of administration, and those speaking in different kinds of tongues. 

See? I told you!

So, now I will get to why I'm angry...
"You should have chosen a different career field."

Are you freaking kidding me?????????????????????????????????????????????????????  Seriously! Are you an idiot on purpose or does that shit just come naturally? What a schmo!!

What happened to teaching being an honorable profession that was respected?

I think it started with all of that "Those who can't...Teach" bullshit! I mean WTF people. If I could sucked at what I do then I damn sure couldn't teach it. For example, I suck at math; therefore I do not teach math. However, I am a good writer; therefore I teach writing. See what I mean?!  I do not know who concocted that little jewel of propaganda, but I'd sure like to whoop his/her ass!

I mean, damn, we are begged to become teachers and then allowed to drown in a pit of overwhelming frustration by barley being able to support ourselves (or our families) and pay our students loans and deal with parents who think we are against their children and deal with students who think we are against them and appease administrators who have no idea what we do but are under so much pressure to make numbers that they can't help but make our lives miserable. Did I mention that we are begged to become teachers by the very government that has created all of these stupid-assed state tests that absolutely have no way of assessing  what a student actually knows. How do I know that? BECAUSE I FUCKING WENT TO SCHOOL FOR 5 YEARS AND GOT A MASTER'S DEGREE IN EDUCATION THAT TELLS ME HOW TO ASSESS STUDENTS COMPREHENSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! An over-lengthy multiple choice test that lasts between 2 to 4 hours was NOT mentioned in any class I ever had as something positive. Translation: It's a stupid idea that only hurts our students...but I think I'll stop now and give this rant it's own personal post later.

Anyway, I digress so, back to my original topic...It seems that Mr. Taylor has just outlived his usefulness as a public servant. I never minded that he was a Catholic school alum. I never minded that his children all attended Catholic school. However, when MY career and MY calling (as well as that of so many others) is dismissed so completely and so thoughtlessly, I can now see that he has become part of the problem instead part of the solution.

Now, do I know how schools should be funded so teachers can finally receive the paychecks they deserve? Nope. Why? I didn't go to school to figure that out. I went to school to hone my skills as a teacher so I could spread the love of language. Why? Because I love to read and I love to write so I decided to combine my love of those things with my passion and calling for teaching and....Voila!! English teacher!

So, now I am told that I'm at fault for being poorly paid. That I should have chosen better? That I should have ignored my true calling from God and committed my life to another  occupation that would fill my pocketbook, but not my soul? That since I did, in fact, choose to be a teacher I should shut up and deal because "I should have known better"?

Well, guess what, Mr. Taylor? While I knew I would never be rich, I did think that I could support myself and while I never thought I would ever be a single mom of two that needed to live with her parents because it is all but impossible to survive. But I guess THAT'S my fault too.

I know one thing that I will happily take credit for...helping vote you out of office. Maybe they will let you teach at your Alma mater when you come back home.

Gene Taylor, a Representative that my family has voted into office for years and years and years (until now), was asked a question about why teachers were the second lowest paid college degree, but one of the most important. His reply was....


OMG I'm so full I'm about to pop right now. Ok, so maybe I'm not THAT full, but my belly is full and very satisfied.

What was on the low carb menu you ask? Smoked sausage cut up into a big salad  (Sometime you just NEED to switch things up from roasted chicken or turkey, ya know.) and  left over cauliflower puree. Ahhh, I'm so happy.

Dinner tonight? Not sure because MJ is totally against turning on the oven...I wasn't even allowed to make Shepard's Pie last night. I'll have to see what I can find and modify the carbs.

*Note: For other concerned, my children are not participating in this low carb experiment. They are eating all the veggies, half that meat, and I do make sure they have the appropriate levels of carbs per day. I am giving them fewer though because I do recognize my T2 as being very carb-heavy in her eating.

Coming Down

So, my Pop and I started the doing the whole low carb thing this past Monday. Before any of you decide to freak out, let me say...

  • Carbs have not been eliminated, just limited.
  • All carbs are eaten in the form of vegetables
  • It's NOT full of fat-at least not the way I do it.
  • The last time my Pop did this he was able to get off of medication.
  • It's nice to eat and not feel like falling asleep.
  • The only thing totally eliminated from our diet is sugar.
I had a brilliant lunch-grilled turkey salad with lots of yummy, low sugar veggies!! And I'm making Shepard's pie tonight. How does one make Shepard's pie low carb you ask? You top it with  faux mashed potatoes, which is basically cauliflower puree' and sinfully yummy!

Now the purpose of the strictest part of low carb is to detox your body from it's addiction to sugar and simple carbs, which turn into sugar. Yesterday I was exhausted and couldn't keep my eyes open and I know that was my body desperately needing the sugar rush that I was denying it.  I also noticed a bit of a headache in the background of my head. I assume this is the lack of caffeine I have provided my body in the last 3 days. I did allow myself a bit today, but I felt my blood sugar fluctuate so I probably will not have any tomorrow.

Other than the caffeine thing today I have LOVED not feeling the rise and fall of my blood sugar these past few days. For all those concerned, I do get my sugar checked at the doctor regularly and there is not problem...yet, but I gotta get weight off or I will. It is a big plus that I never got gestational diabetes, but I'm very aware of what diabetes does to the body and I really do not want to drive down that road. Hell, I'm already all but promised to have since since I'm cursed on BOTH sides of the family; I do NOT want to help it along.

Anyway, even if it is just water weight I'm already down some so far this week, which makes it easier to continue...even if I'd like a glass of wine (A no no right now, but it's not like it's a bad idea to abstain for a bit.) and I'm craving something sweet (which means, my body IS addicted to sugar and the detox is totally necessary).

So far so good...more later.

RENT - Seasons Of Love (w/ lyrics)

Had to be done...

What a difference a year makes...Happiness ahead

So, this morning I ran into the mom of a childhood friend. She asked me how things were going and then caught me up on what her daughter was doing these days. As she was talking my brain was screaming "Loser!!!! you sound like a complete and total loser, girl! I mean, really?"  I could see the pity in her eyes and the thought of "she was such a smart girl. too bad" radiating from her. Sigh....

My inner monologue was a total Debbie-Downer the entire ride home. I just couldn't get past the idea that at 32 (shh, don't tell) I'm a single mom living at home with my parents. I mean, how sadly pathetic.

But, then I stopped because I remembered what today was. Today, August 4th, 2010 would have been my 9th wedding anniversary.

I remembered that last year, on this day,  tears still slid down my face when someone asked me, "So, how's everything going?" because my anger and sadness over the entire situation was overwhelming. Last year, on this day, two wonderful friends of mine took me to a bar and got me plastered because I had already cried twice that day-once right before we left. Last year on this day I still felt hollow and defeated-living on my own with no job and money running out, still learning how to handle being a single mom. But today......

(Cheesy as it sounds, I really am feel like a Phoenix who has risen from the ashes.)

Buahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Today I feel awesome. Today I realized that this day had snuck up on me because I hadn't even thought about its significance. Today I know that I am a completely different person from who I was a year ago. I am stronger than I even imagined. I feel so completely different about myself and my future-so positive, in spite of my occasional setbacks. I still may not have a lot of money, but I have a job. I may live with my parents, but I save on childcare. I may not have everything I want in life, but I have the moxy to go out and fucking get it for myself-unabashedly, unapologeticly.

I get to live my life my way. I get to raise my kids my way. I get to find my way in the world my way. I get to Find MY way.

Little Man is Growing Up

T1 had been so excited all weekend about going to school today. So excited that I unrealistically thought this morning would be easy; turns out I should have listened to the nagging thought in the back of my head that said, "Calm before the storm, McCarty. Calm before the storm."

Last night was deceptively easy. Dinner. Bath. Bedtime snack. Brush teeth. Bed and asleep-All by 7:30. No problem............................................................."Mommy, can I have some milk?" at 3:00 AM. Problem!

"Can you turn on the Goofy cartoon" at 4:00 AM. Serious Problem!

"I'm a little hungry. Can I get some cereal?" at 5:00 AM. Major, Serious Problem!

My alarm went off at 6. After my own morning routine (wash face, make coffee, etc.) I went to wake him up. Sound asleep. Not good! The boy is GROUCHY when he first wakes up. (Actually grouchy is nowhere near the right word. Mean, Cranky, Ill, and Pissy are much closer.) 

It took half an hour to get him out of bed and another half an hour to get him dressed. he kept saying he didn't want to got to school the entire time. I kept reminding him that he was going to have fun, fun, fun at school! Yeah, he was SO not buying it!

Let's just say that even though I had my phone and my camera handy I took ZERO pictures today because he was not having anything school related today. He cried all the way to school. He cried at school. He cried when I kissed him and told him I'd be back later to pick him up. He cried when the principal pulled him out of class and into the hallway. He cried when she walked him outside. It took a while more for him to decide to actually go to class.

Needless to say I was a wreck all day. I had worked myself into a stress headache by the time I pulled into the driveway and put myself into bed for a short nap. (Between that and the severe lack of sleep I really needed it.) MJ, T2, and I ate Chinese food and ducked into Hudson's, where I found a cute dress that I will be wearing to my cuz's wedding. At 2 o'clock I started all but vibrating and mentioning the time every 5 minutes until we left the store at 2:30. School lets out at 3 o'clock and I planned to be there, smiling and waiting, outside his classroom. Now, most of you faithful few will not think this is a strange request, but you must understand that MJ has been more than a smig late for pretty much everything she's ever done. Yes, that does include things for me too.

I was always the last to be dropped of for anything and the last to be picked up. Once, in elementary school, she was an hour late picking me up because she had been shopping in Mobile and lost track of time. Wow. Nice, huh? It was a total relief to ride with my friends to school because I always knew I'd be on time. It's funny; MJ believes it is something genetic I share with my Pop that makes me anal about being on time-or early even.  Nope, it's my entire life watching the clock in the car and feeling the sweat trickle down my back and my stomache twist into prezels each extra minute is takes to arrive. Oh God, it was agony.

When I picked him from school this afternoon, he was all smiles.