Thank God it’s Thursday, or, Hugging the House
September 7, 2012
Tonight, when I pulled in the driveway I had an overwhelming urge to hug my house. The whole house, the dust balls, and old bird, the crazy puppy and the weary sofas, the two short people that I knew would come spilling out the door any minute, (or not, depending on whether the dragon movie was near the end,) the stairs that collect dust more intensely and successfully than i’ve ever collected anything in my life, the bathrooms that need washers and washing, I wanted to hug the whole package.
And so I am. And anybody that stumbles on these words. I’m hugging you too. Thank God it’s Thursday.
A Very Long Day, The Basics Recorded, Please Fill in Details As Needed.
September 6, 2012
6 am wake son
7 am wake daughter
715 am wake daughter again
750 am drop daughter at school bus
800 am yoga
900 am shower
940 am first class this semester, physical evaluations and assessments
1100 am second class this semester, strength training and endurance
1 pm third class… Anatomy and Physiology, the human body will never look the same now that I’ve seen it in quadrants.
255 pm run to car so that I may
300 pm pick up daughter
330 pm go to store
430 pm pick up friend’s daughter
500 pm cook dinner
530 pm eat dinner
535 pm clean up after dinner
540 pm start conversation with kids about why they should help me clean up after dinner.
542 pm kids remember homework they have to do right away…
Etc. Etc. Etc.
It was a long, long day, and I wanted to record it all for posterity, but I’m too damn tired. So if you would like to fill in the blanks and imagine the details- the funny and/or insightful comments I made, or just how great my hair looked, go for it.
If you’re a realist, I usually have lipstick on my teeth.
Growing Pains, with a Little Middle Aged Angst on the Side and A Plan for One Late Night to Make Everything Better
September 4, 2012
Life for the next month or three is going to be nuts. I have got homework and labs and each weekday begins with the quest for impossible parking. I have an NCAA player in the making, and an Olympics contender on the verge- in the midst of my stuff my athletes need to be ferried to and from practices and competitions and fed something other than last night’s pizza.
There is my homework, their homework, playdates and hangouts, and the constant challenge of keeping them in appropriate footwear that fits. And I can’t forget the new kitten, the not so new puppy, the cats and the turtle and the dead bird in the shed, ( I have to find Whitey an everlasting home where Sophie won’t rip him to shreds.)
I have a lot on my plate, hell, I have a lot on my casserole dish that is roughly the size of Portland.
So as I move through these days coming ahead, I will plan for the moments just after.
When it’s done, when grades are in, championships won or lost, animals buried or tossed, living animals getting along or banished to individual rooms, doctors seen, paperwork done, I am going to find me a night on the town.
I don’t want to do shots. I could care less about scintillating conversation. I don’t need to dress up or eat morsels of strange food at ridiculous prices.
I want to go to club where I’ve never been. I want to sip a cold drink, take my time. I want to be asked by a gentleman, who, when he asks will act like he isn’t sure of my answer, for a dance. I will say yes. When I take his hand, the band will start playing just the right song. (I don’t know what the right song will be but it will be Just. The. Right. Song.) And we will slow dance round that floor like we have all of the time in the world. And we will.
Guilty Pleasures
September 3, 2012
Just after the kids finally sleep, there is that moment I realize I will not hear “mom, can you shut out my light, “, “don’t forget to wake me up 15 minutes early,” “what was that, you are watching tv without us?!”. When the stillness settles around me, I begin my life without them. And yet they are there, in those moments just after. I listen for footsteps, or doors, I don’t want to get caught by my kids doing what I do in the hours I have sent them to sleep.
After turning the volume way down, I stumble around on the internet. If the phone rings, I answer it like I’m asleep. When I snack, I wash out the bowl and wipe counters.
Being online, or reading a novel or sipping tea at 11:05 feels like a forbidden pleasure.
Before I had kids, I had to work so much harder for that sense- this is bad, therefore it must be-feel-taste really good. Now, all I have to is be awake after they sleep and watch something HBO.
I’m such a dangerous girl.
julierichmond 