Wednesday, October 7, 2009

There is a metaphor in here somewhere

Monday: Wash Day. Only it's Tuesday but since the kids had school off yesterday I was still playing catch-up today. I can't very well instill consequences for late, dirty-laundry delivery if I haven't exactly filled my end of the bargain and washed anything up yet.

Two of my girls have school off for the week and we were lazing about in our jammies, folding laundry, drinking hot chocolate (so NOT on our clean-eating plan), and reading (me: blogs, girls: actual books). Lazing about is always a nice idea, in theory.

However, I was caught off guard when Ty's teacher texted to let me know he'd (Ty) had an emergency of the "answering nature's call" variety. The teacher was perfectly fine to take care of the situation, but I think there are some things a person needs their mom for (also I don't personally feel it should be in a teacher's job description to do bathroom duty, unless of course they are getting hazard pay).

I threw on some presentable clothes, as well as the bare minimum of make-up (vanity much?), tamed my unruly mop of hair, and found my keys. It took me 15 minutes to get to a school half a mile away. I am really trying hard for that Mother of the Year award. I'll spare you any details, but I feel bad Ty had to wait for me.

I got home, fed the girls lunch, then ran off with my youngest sister to buy/exchange yarn for another sister. I may have mentioned this before but our middle sister has this "superpower" where people fall all over themselves to give her stuff or make her happy and I am not even exaggerating AT ALL (it's totally worth it, so I understand why they do it). Anyhow, come to find out this yarn store does NOT do exchanges. ALL SALES ARE FINAL.

Except that somehow the power of my sister reached out and touched them, clear from Maryland, and they exchanged the yarn for another of the exact same color and price just a lighter weight. Which they NEVER do, the sales girl assured me - but just this once.

Then we dashed home - dashed being a relative term. And sweet mercy! I found a friend who was willing to take my excess garden produce off my hands so that I would not suffer from either RPTGS (Rotting Pepper & Tomato Guilt Syndrome) or FFPE (Fruit Fly Population Explosion). I met up with her, made the delivery (my guilt evaporated immediately, phew!), and then picked up my daughter from dance.

On the way home I got the reminder call that quilt group was tonight. Mr. O was a love and didn't mind if I went. So I did. And I finished up a sweet little knit dress for my middle sister's baby (because I am not immune to her charms, myself). I know I did knitting instead of quilting, but I went - for like the first time since May and I had a lovely time. I tasted Lasagna Soup (delish, btw) and visited with friends.

When the party broke up, I went home and dressed for my run. I was trying to meet up with a couple of other women who go about the same time, but I was either just ahead of or behind them and missed them altogether. I spent my entire run trying to catch up and then back track to find them. I felt guilty that I'd missed them, hoping I hadn't inconvenienced them or made them wait for me.

In the end I tried to enjoy the solace while putting the guilt on the back burner. Even though the air was downright brisk, it made for an invigorating run. I got in 4 miles before my knees rebelled. I wanted to keep going but knew that if I wanted to run again tomorrow, I needed to listen to my body and it was SO DONE. And then I showered because I am thoughtful like that, and it was about time, don't you think?