The weather alone was enough to make today a remarkable sort of day. Winter needs to end, now. It’s TRYING. And even though I know that we will most likely have at least one more big snow before it ends for real, a day like today gives me hope.
It also gives me little muddy footprints all over my nice clean floor. Oh well.
But before that, it gives me children who rise at the butt-crack of dawn because strange and unusual things are happening, such as:
A) Sunlight! In the morning! Like, early!
B) Birds singing!
C) Tingling kiddie-sense that maybe Mama is dying to sleep in!
Sometimes I can sleep in on a Saturday, if the planets align correctly. Today was not one of those days. The television was “all snowy” and the kids couldn’t figure out how to fix it and couldn’t figure out how to not scream their heads off and torment each other while doing so. So we were ALL up early, albeit ONE of us stomping around and muttering while a little black cartoon cloud rained down from above.
It took me about three seconds to fix the television. “GEE,” I announced to no one in particular, “I could be wrong, but I don’t think you can use the cable box to watch Cartoon Network when your television is on channel ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY EIGHT instead of channel THREE. I wonder how THAT happened.” The precipitation was obscuring my vision, but I swear both children suddenly sprouted wings and halos in the face of this news.
[Complete non-sequitor: I just watched a commercial for the Sunbeam TeaDrop and thought it was a spoof. But it’s NOT. “Hot tea in minutes, JUST the way I like it!” Really? Because the horribly labor-intensive method of putting the teabag in your mug and pouring in hot water was… too much for you? My mind has been blown. Also, suddenly some of the things I saw at the Invention Convention seem a lot less dumb.]
The kids ate breakfast and trashed the house while I attempted to wake up. Allow me to take this opportunity to let you know that if you have not finished up a shower only to find a small child patiently waiting to ask you if you have any bottlecaps (Me, in my towel: “On me? No.”), you really have not experienced ALL of the joy that parenthood has to offer. (And by “joy” I of course mean the perfect situation in which to call your kid “Rainman” to his face.)
Eventually everyone was ready to go, and then the fun began.
Took Chickadee to Tae Kwon Do. Monkey came with me to the bank, then we went back to watch class.
After class we stopped for bagels to take home for lunch. Went home, ate lunch, wrapped a birthday present. Loaded recycling into the car.
Took Chickadee to a birthday party. Monkey came with me to the dump, where we unloaded our plastics and newspapers only to fill the car back up with books from the book swap. (I picked up Bel Canto, because it was there and I have never read it. I heard they were going to revoke my membership in the Big Girl’s Writers Club if I didn’t check it out.)
Picked Chickadee up, went to gas up the car and go through the car wash. Fortunately only EVERY OTHER PERSON IN TOWN had the same idea. Spent several years at the gas station, both in line for a pump and then in line for the car wash. Went through the car wash screeching loudly, because that is what car washes are for. (“Help! HELP! THE CRAZED SPACE WORMS ARE TRYING TO EAT THE CAR! DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!!”)
Came home, played outside (without coats!) for a couple of hours. Made dinner. Ate dinner.
The kids got on the phone with their dad, and I overheard Chickadee telling him, “Well, I don’t really have anything to talk about. Nothing interesting happened today.”
I’m thinking that the next time she has an uninteresting day, it should involve less spin-kicking, cake and prizes for her, and a heckuva lot less driving, for me. But maybe I’m just crazy. And sleep-deprived. Or short on bottlecaps. Who knows.