Waffler

Max really enjoyed Spanish camp this past week. He still cries when I leave him, but only for a few minutes, and I think he is actually interested and participating in everything else. He knows one other kid's name–-Olivia. Last week, I found myself thinking that I had made a mistake sending him to Rivendell which we can't afford, when he is perfectly happy at Spanish and might have learned the language too boot!

Then, by Thurs-Friday, when I saw with fresh eyes how hard it is to get through a day with no big activity/social interaction planned, I realized that Rivendell will be better. Rick is very frustrated by my lack of confidence in decisions. All along he has said, Max would be fine at Spanish, but happier at Rivendell, and I'm starting to see this is true.

I hope that I don't pass this particular quality of indecision onto Max and Eliza. When did it start? Why do I have it? Molly is visiting and she doesn't seem to overthing and regret her decisions. It's fairly self destructive. And paralyzing.

Speaking of paralysis, there's something about this waffling that is very much connected to writing, and being paralyzed. I've just left a message for a substitue babysitter to take care of Max and Eliza 6 hours a week this week and next, and then maybe some in August in the two weeks between Canada and camping. Hopefully during that interval, I can start getting a handle on what's going on with Slipping, and start sending it out.