The kids are enjoying their independence

This is Rhyetta typing.



I'm in bed all day and all night.  I make an appearance once or twice a day in the living room.  I try to sit on the couch and say a sentence or two to each child.  Then I feel a wave of nausea strike me and I must withdraw to my sanctuary for privacy and for peace.



Matt has been caring for me and taking care of the house and taking care of the kids.  But the kids have enjoyed a lot of independence this summer.  No nagging mother to remind them of their chores.  No motivating mother to entice them to an educational activity.  They play together.  They play apart.  They read a lot.  They play the piano.  They build legos.  They splash through puddles in the driveway.  They ride bikes and splash themselves with mud.  They have screen time in the afternoon.  They do a lot that I don't even know about because I am hiding in my room focusing all of my energy on enduring this illness.



But I've caught a couple kids doing things on their own that they wouldn't have done if I had asked them.  Like Kian reading "Beowulf," making notes in the margins with a pencil.  He picked that book up on his own. And I've never seen him make notes in a book before.



And Ella practicing songs on the piano over and over and over and over again.  These are songs she's never played before.  She's only using one hand to pick out the melody, but still I am impressed with her interest and commitment.



Abby participated in a 2-week drama camp this summer.  She paid for it herself and she absolutely loved the experience.  She sang her songs so often that Klaus now sings them spontaneously.  She talked about certain boys fighting over her to be her "buddy," until "Olivia came to my rescue!"



Felicity attended a birthday party last Saturday that only she was invited to.  I realized that she is now old enough to go to a social function on her own.  When she recently had a well child checkup, Matt said she made the doctor laugh with her replies to her questions.  She asks me every so often if there is anything she can get for me and acts genuinely sad when there isn't.



Klaus is probably the only one suffering from the lack of Mommy's attention.  He'll burst into my room and see me and smile, hold my hand and lovingly tell me, "You're not sick, Mommy."  Then he'll get mad that I'm not going to play trains with him and act out in some way.



I just had to get these little moment written down so they wouldn't be forgotten.