I knew this year was going to be a different kind of birthday celebration—the kind where we were quarantined. We usually observe birthdays in our house with some fanfare and a week-long celebration, a leftover from when B was gigging and traveling a lot. But this year, with mandatory isolation in place and all non-essentials closed to the public, our celebration would be modest. We’re not extravagant people, but I admit I was dispirited, aggrieved like I had lost something: no shopping to buy that one new birthday outfit, no new haircut and color, no date night out of the house, no friends, no chocolate party.
Read MoreIt’s that time of year—getting ready for back to school. When I looked at the calendar and saw that there are only two weeks left until school, I think I actually “eeked” a little. There was no way we were ready for school…clothes, shoes, supplies and other incidentals. I loudly proclaimed, “We need to get ready for back to school,” and then I marched into Monkey Boy’s room.
Read MoreI am done with school, as in I am done with the kids being in school for this school year. Sure, I’ll send them back to school in August because by then I’ll be happy to see them leave the house and not return for seven straight hours. But today, I am done with school, and I’m excitedly, impatiently awaiting the last day of school—this Friday. It’s not because we have great summer plans, it’s more because I will not be getting up at super-duper early o’clock every single day. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Yes, when the alarm goes off every morning, it is officially super-duper early o’clock.
Read MoreThere was this one time the meal plan said it was salad bar night, and as you know, the meal plan must be followed—just so there’s no mistake, I write the meal plan, but I apparently forgot to send out the meal plan memo. And just so you know, not everyone in the house is as big of fan of salads as I am.
Read MoreWhen the school announced the date and theme of the dance in mid-January, they also announced that the dress code would be semi-formal, in that no jeans or casual wear were allowed. They asked students to wear something that they might wear to church. The Girl scoffed out loud, and when she told me, we laughed hard. Obviously they did not know what I let my kids wear to church: ripped jeans, sports pants, shorts, flip flops, and/or T-shirts and hoodies. And hats, not fancy Southern, church-lady hats but knit caps, beanies, snapbacks. “We gotta find you something to wear,” I said.
Read MoreLast week was Valentine’s Day. And this year we—and by we, I mean me and perhaps the Girl—were going to hand make all our Valentine’s Day cards for Monkey Boy. We had a plan, too. We were going to pick 30 small, colorful and interesting rocks from our garden (we’ve got thousands) and make pet rocks with googly eyes, an alternative to candy. The Girl said she had a bunch of googly eyes in her craft box and plenty of hot glue sticks to glue on the eyes. I had plenty of small clear plastic bags for the pet rocks and lots of cardstock for the “You Rock” Valentine’s Day cards. Perfect. Except it didn’t turn out that way.
Read MoreMonkey Boy likes to use my shower. Knowing that means there should be no surprises. You expect the unexpected. Once upon a time, all four of us shared a bathroom. At our last house, we had one bathroom. Mind you, it was a huge room, almost as large as the bedroom the Girl and Monkey Boy shared. All four of us could be in the bathroom at the same, standing in different corners and when reaching our hands toward each other, we would not have been able to touch fingers. We never actually tried that, standing in different corners, but there were times when all of us, and the cats, were in that room at the same time. There were also times when there was a line at the door.
Read MoreYesterday after school, the Girl said, “We should get Qdoba for dinner.”
“I was just thinking about Qdoba this morning,” I said.
“Great, let’s get Qdoba.”
“We have other dinner plans tonight, but maybe this weekend we can do homemade Qdoba bowls at home,” I said.
“No, Momma,” she said. “That’s just not the same.”
Last spring Monkey Boy bounced into the kitchen wearing brown and white shorts, a too-small greyish brown tee with a dinosaur crossing Abbey Road on it, a brightly colored green sock and a blue striped sock, and his new-ish sneakers. I did a double take. He then put on his yellow Monster stocking cap with purple ear covers. His outfit surprised me. Not one bit of it matched. And just as I was about to comment on his outfit, as non-judgy as possible, he did dress himself for school, after all, Monkey Boy said, “Hey guys, I want to show you some dance steps.”
Read MoreWe didn’t get a family vacation this summer. We didn’t get one last summer, either, because we moved, and moving and buying a new house and starting a new job pretty much screams, “You don’t need no stinkin’ vacation.” But I’m not bitter.
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We made it through the first week and a couple days into the second week of the new school year. Of course, there was drama. There was drama because I have kids. And there was drama because one of those kids is a teenage girl. And she has teenage girlfriends. If I said nothing else, you would completely understand. But I can’t leave it here. So I am going to start with the easy one…
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The Girl and Monkey Boy got an Xbox for Christmas along with a stack of not-new-games, including Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog 2 and 3, and Sonic and Knuckles…This morning Monkey Boy announced that he was going to complete the entire game of Sonic the Hedgehog 2 and beat the big, bad boss at the end, “I’m going to do it in one hour, maybe two.”
Read MoreMonkey Boy called out from the family room, “Momma, I didn’t get my daily Pop Tart.” “Daily Pop Tart?” I questioned. “Since when is that a thing?”
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I was cutting it kind of close with meal planning. I have fruit aplenty and some carrots and a cucumber. In the pantry, I have a lot of nuts and some dried fruit and protein bars. I also have a cabinet full of spices. I really wanted to just grab a handful of whatever and throw it in a bag, pat some heads, and push them out the door. You can just imagine the conversation in the cafeteria, “I got some wasabi almonds, dried apricots, half a cuke, and a jar of fennel. Anyone wanna trade?”
Read MoreB loves tomato soup, but I wasn’t so sure that the Girl and Monkey Boy would. I was formulating a backup meal plan for them when they wandered into the kitchen inquiring as to the “oh-my-goodness-we’re-starving” what and when of dinner. I braced myself for, “That’s what we’re having for dinner? That’s child abuse. I would rather eat vomit.” Instead, I got, “I love tomato soup!” shouted loudly and in unison. They even high-fived each other followed by a yay and a fist bump and a little jig right there in the middle of the kitchen.
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Sometime over the holidays, I misplaced my winter gloves and needed something to cover my hands when I went outside in near zero degree temperatures. I didn’t want to run back upstairs—again—to grab a pair of gloves from my top dresser drawer, so I dug through the kids’ bag of gloves in the mudroom. Not a single matching pair among them, so this is what I wore.
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There are a few of those extraordinarily ordinary things that I really love, like the laughter of the Girl and Monkey Boy when they are playing or reading and getting along, the softly falling snow in early winter, and freshly laundered and pressed bed linens. Today is the trifecta, and it’s just about perfect.
B went back to work this morning after taking several days off after Christmas, both to rest and refresh. We spent our days in pajamas, huddled together playing games, watching movies, reading books, and doing little else.
Right after B left for the office and knowing that this house had endured quite enough holidaying, I stripped the beds, gathered all the wash, and ventured to the laundry room to start the mountain that had accumulated during our respite.
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