thursday

Sometimes (more and more often, actually) I have the kind of day that really drives home the fact that I'm a mom/ wife/ responsible adult person - a day where all I do is run errands and spend time with my little family - and I realize I am totally and completely okay with it.  Today was one of those days.  It went something like this:

7:15 AM:  Wake Annie up for school.

7:16 AM:  Realize the two of us are going to have a "morning," meaning she woke up on the bitchy side of her bunk bed, and I'm going to have to put her in check before we even eat breakfast.

8:15 AM:  Send a crying Annie out the door. 

"I'm gonna miss the bus!" she whines.  "Well then we're just gonna have to take a nice little RIDE together, AREN'T WE!" I say, and she backs off the stoop looking scared.

8:15:30 AM:  Annie catches the bus.

Then til 9ish:  Try to get clean and dressed with Miss Estie on the move upstairs, reaching and wrapping her drooly little paws around everything within two feet of ground level and stuffing it straight into her mouth.  She is clearly on a total power trip after learning to crawl yesterday.

9:30 AM:  Buy a giant mylar balloon, tie it to a bag of Skittles and head to my nephew's pre-school graduation.

10:30 AM:  Sit straddling my brother-in-law's backside on a picnic blanket with the rest of my in-laws and about 200 other moms/dads/grandparents in the gym of the pre-school.  It was tight quarters, and we were asked to stand and sit again twice for patriotic gestures during the America! themed program.  Awkward?   Nah, I always like to wrap my legs around people I'm related to. 

My feet, my bro-in-law's ass.  Just another Thursday morning.

Noonish:  Celebratory lunch with the fam at a place that also has a ball pit.  Sadly becoming one of my favorite restaurants.

1 - 3 PM:  Errands with the hubs.  Grocery store, etc.  Usually I hate this part of my day,  but when B. is free to come with me, well...

It's not so bad.

3:30 - 5:30 PM: Leave the groceries scattered on the kitchen floor while I drive across town to grab Annie's bestie for dance class - our Thursday ritual.  B. stays home to play with Estie and be here when Annie gets off the bus.  I shamefully feed the girls freezer pizza before we all load up and head out.  I am excited because I'm bringing my shoes to dance tonight for the first time in about a year (baby brain did not bode well with my already nonexistent feet coordination).

6:00 PM: Realize the night before a recital is not the time to casually pick up the new routines.  Resign to watching the hardcore rehearsing, hoping in vain to pick up the steps through osmosis.  Happy to join the group for a bit when our instructor (my sis-in-law!) throws me a bone with some older songs I already know.  Am shocked at how rusty I am.  Put Estie in the Johnny Jumper and live vicariously through her joyful, unselfconcious bounce-dancing.  Wonder if they make bouncers in my size (my sis says they do, but they're sold in shops with blacked-out windows).

9 PM: Get home, put the girls to bed and, to recoup the calories I burned during a total of ten minutes of aerobic excercise, make delicious bark candy involving M&Ms and golden oreos.  Eat alot of it.  Feel shame and joy at once, which of course is the basis of all eating disorders, none of which I have. 

10:15ish PM: Sit down to write this post, saying it'll just take a second.

11 something, what's it really matter:  Wink at my patient husband, who is sitting right next to me on his own laptop, pretending this is an acceptable way for us to spend our evening.  He's so cute.  I'm gonna go kiss him now.  Look away!