Did You Know...

That the Department of Labor requires you to sit through an orientation upon applying for benefits, only to demand you return a month later for practically the same orientation? And require you to take three more "classes" over the subsequent 90 day period you receive unemployment benefits? Yeah, me neither.

I'm not complaining because some of the classes seem fairly informative with titles such as "Resume Preparation" and "Financial Stress." They have an optional "Small Business Startup" anyone can attend as well. Initially, I was bothered by these requirements, scrunching up my nose and thinking of how it would interrupt my exercise routine those few mornings. As if!

I have grown accustomed to making my way through the day in my comfy Adidas flip flops. I've become quite fond of sleeping in, working out whenever the hell I feel like it, lounging around the pool, taking long baths in the middle of the day, and basically being a bum. Other than packing, there isn't much for me to do now except wait.

We move into our new duplex in two weeks.

No longer do I feel rushed, or worried, or stressed.
I've had a job since I was fifteen, and while this was the last thing I ever would have wished upon my life, it's been well...nice.

I spend my days with Boog making cookies and tacos, playing Playstation 2, whispering over books in the public library, opening my eyes underwater in the pool to guess how many fingers he's holding up. He will start school in two weeks in our new city, my own home town, while I attend the local university. Until then he is attending the school of Julie, and well, he makes it impossible to blog.

Even as I type this, I have on my headphones to drown out his humming. I don't see how these stay at home moms, whose livelihood is their blog, do it.

Again, I am not complaining. I have never been so thankful for his company while I twiddle my thumbs waiting for time to pass. His giggles, and fondness of helping me cook our meals tickle me, and he wakes me every morning with a big stank-breath grin.

I've driven him by the huge playground of his new school with its yellow monkey bars, and he lets out a squeal and claps his hands.

"That is the school you went to! Right, mama?"

I smile because it is. And every time we drive by the red brick building I can see myself at age 7, ugly as all hell, holding Stephanie Hodges' hand by the fence, and checking out Justin Dunn across the field. I can't imagine how it will be escorting my little boy through the heavy metal doors of my own childhood. Fascinating, I think. Maybe scary?

Surreal.
Just like everything else in my life right now.