Jack and Emma fighting like determined rival tribes. 

Ordered in, even after all the money I spent on snacks and dinners and whatever else at Oliver’s.  But here I am.  Calm now… Henry watching a baby show, Cocomelon, Emmie watching a kids show, and Jackie playing hit Fortnite game.  Gave him a time limit which he didn’t like but… what can I do but TRY to be firm.

Plans set for tomorrow.  The calm now is almost unbelievable.  Laundry going… I’m doing it.  This single dad story, thing, way, life, EVERYTHING. Jack teaches me ways of this game.  I retain some of it, but he’s lecturing fast.

My kids… they’re amazing, amazingly frustrating and downright incensing at time, but in all dimensions and perceptions LOVING.  Calm in the loft now.. how.  Am I to be credited?  Do I want credit?  No… I’m just astonished at the contrast… just minutes ago, world war.  Now, something ambient, scenic and colorful, imagist, moving this writer.

Dreading Sunday, if I can be honest.  When they leave, when they’re TAKEN from me.  The way of the new Mike Madigan world.  No sense combatting.  The conflict is over a year in its yodel.  So now then some sort of acceptance.  Manic in my confusion but placid in my immediate mode.