I’m currently trying to recover from my second bout of bronchitis since the end of October — a delayed reaction to the trial, I think — and haven’t left the house since Christmas Day except once to pick up a vacationing neighbor’s mail. I worked at home all week, doing things that needed doing before year-end, but haven’t even made it around the corner to Starbucks. And it’s been two weeks since I’ve been out for a run, which is about the point where I go from being a little twitchy to wanting to jump off a building. The Siren’s been sick all week, too, while the kids are in fine shape and are starting to bounce off the walls because Mom & Dad won’t take them anywhere.
That said, we’ve had a pretty good winter break. We took another shot at introducing The Boy to Doctor Who with the Christmas special, which he loved, and introduced both kids to Jeremy Brett’s Sherlock Holmes. One of the joys of having older kids is that we can occasionally have a family movie night that doesn’t involve talking animals.
The Boy turned 8 years old the other day, and his latest passion is electronics; between his Christmas and birthday presents, he probably has enough parts in his combined electronics kits to build a supercomputer.
The Girl, on the other hand, got a home genetics kit and is planning to genetically engineer her own strain of bacteria. Probably just when I finally get over the damn bronchitis.
For New Year’s Eve, the Siren made a fantastic three-course fondue dinner, even more elaborate than last year’s. We went through an enormous box of poppers and noisemakers, and after the kids finally went to bed, the two of us stayed up until midnight laughing our asses off reading Damn You Autocorrect in bed. Because that’s how we roll these days.
No big resolutions for 2012, just trying to reboot after an unexpectedly difficult year. Step one: tomorrow, I leave the house.