So my to-do list for today is about six miles long; I got up early (which I almost never do on Sunday, because sleeping late is easily in my top 5 favorite activities) and did some work and picked up the house a little and went out for groceries and was back before I’m usually even awake on the weekend.
The plan was to have a couple of families from Monkey’s new school come over to swim, so everyone could meet everyone else and the boys could play and—hopefully—Monkey would not refuse to get in the car when carpool time came.
So I baked some muffins (when in doubt: bake) and made some iced tea and threw some lemonade pouches in the fridge for the kids. I put on my swimsuit and slathered Monkey in sunblock and truthfully, I was nervous, and also thinking about all of the other things I needed to be doing, or would have to rush to do after our guests left.
People arrived and kids splashed in the pool. I was just settled into a lovely conversation with a woman I completely plan to force to be my new best friend—children swarming around, Licorice loping around the pool—and suddenly Licorice darted back up the porch steps.
I looked up, and there was another dog on the porch. And the last time I checked, we only have one dog. One small black dog, in fact, and THIS dog was 1) large, 2) blonde, and 3) wearing a tiara.
I know I am prone to exaggeration, but all of those things are true.
“Where did that dog come from?” I yelled up the porch, to no one in particular, and no one answered, nor did anyone seem concerned, and I sat there completely ignoring the conversation I’d just been having (I think I stopped talking mid-sentence, even), trying to figure out what the heck was going on.
And then I realized it was my father’s dog. WHICH IS WEIRD, because my father lives in New York. And I’m pretty sure his dog doesn’t know how to drive.
My rusty ol’ brain went click-click-click and finally I realized that THAT’S BUDDY, and Buddy was wearing a Happy Birthday tiara, and that’s because my dad and stepmom were there, with matching tiaras, because they’d all just driven down to be here for my birthday this week.
So then I went from trailing off mid-sentence to shrieking OH MY GOD OH MY GOD and then I rudely jumped up and ran up onto the porch to say hello and give hugs and left my very patient guest sitting poolside saying, “What’s happening?”
Buddy isn’t a big fan of his tiara, and Licorice isn’t a big fan of Buddy (yet), but I think it’s going to be a really fun week.
I may have to change my mind about refusing to have a birthday this year.