dear ... diary?

Today was sort of nuts around here.  We just got home (it's almost midnight) and frankly I'm pooped.  The eight year-old headed straight to bed without being asked - that's the kind of day we had.  And the hubs is working late so he's still not even home yet, bless his heart.  I've taken up residence on the couch with the baby on my lap and the laptop, ironically, not.  That's on a pillow next to me and I'm typing chopsticks-style with my right index finger.  It's not super convenient.  I haven't had time today to conceptualize a post, much less actually write one (see earlier post about my tedious and time-consuming writing process).  But I refuse to give up my post-a-day commitment, especially this soon in the game.  So I'm just going to treat today's entry like a diary.  I figure if you can't stand the tedium, you can just quit reading.  Like your life's so much more exciting.

5:45 am - get up to give Estie a dry diaper and a pacifier.  Decide to just put her in bed between the hubs and me so I can get some more sleep.

6:00 am - scootch over to the furthest inch of the bed to avoid smothering Estie, who has burrowed into her favorite spot, my armpit.

8:00 am - Estie decides it's time to start our day.  The hubs takes her downstairs where Annie is already up watching something dismally Disney on DVR and eating cereal.  I shuffle down after them to fix myself a coffee and sit on the couch like a lump til it kicks in and I become a real person. 

skipping some stuff - like bottles and diapers and showers and baths and board games and the mother-in-law coming to hang out and making lunch and eating and getting us all dressed and running out the door.

1:00 pm - drop the girls off at my sister-in-law's for a play date while the hubs and I head to a meeting with our accountant.

2:00 - 2:15 pm - do our taxes.

2:15 - 3:45 pm - listen as my husband (world's most enthusiastic chatter) goes round for round with our family accountant (world's second most enthusiastic chatter).

3:46 pm - realize I'm not going to make it to the bakery a town over to pick up truffles for my girlfriend's mom, whose surprise 50th I'm attending tonight.  Need to come up with a plan B.

4:30 pm - walk into the liquor store with my kids. (What?)

4:45 pm - 6:30 pm - change my clothes (okay, frantically find something to wear and get dressed in stages, leaving my bedroom a totally disaster in the process), fix my hair, help Annie pick an outfit (remember Punky Brewster?), change Estie's clothes, feed her a bottle (tick tock, tick tock), pack the diaper bag, find a bow for the wine bottle, run like a bat out of hell out the door.  

7:00 pm - surprise!

7:01 pm- 10:ish pm - battle Estie's nightly gassy-tummy freak-out fest during a lovely dinner in possibly the warmest room in any restaurant I've ever patronized (did I mention I'm prone to post-pardum hot flashes?). It had a fireplace.  Great food and even better company though, nonetheless.  But if you've never tried eating with one hand while reaching behind your own back to rock a baby carrier, don't. 

10:15 pm - leave early in a frantic and embarrassing scramble after Estie headbutts the birthday girl's shoulder and begins to scream hysterically, drawing unsubtle stares from fellow diners.  Forget Annie's doggie bag and don't get to thank our gracious host.  Brace against freezing cold, hurricane-force winds while lugging a 75 pound baby carrier (okay, I'm embellishing a bit now - but not by much) to walk the full city block to our car, in heels, with a screaming baby.  Thank god for Annie, she's really such a helper when she wants to be.

10:15 pm - say the F word in front of my kids when the wind slams the car door on the back of my legs as I click Estie's car seat in place.

10:52 pm - home! Remember that lump on the couch from this morning?  My day's come full circle.
11:30 pm - the hubs gets home to join the lump.  We discuss our day while both on separate laptops. Who says romance is dead? 
1:03 am - holy crap, it's 1:03 am.  Goodnight!