Though it is nearly entirely blasphemous to admit in this household, I hate the muppets. The show, the movies, the stuffed animals. They creep me out. My husband and daughter watch Muppets Take Manhattan nearly 4 times a week and I must pretend as though I want to clean the kitchen.
I spoke in church on Sunday. You can tell a lifetime of experience in that one sentence. History prevented me from saying that I delivered the sermon on Sunday and will continue to do so for the next three weeks. On WOMEN. And I adored every single brain tingling, late night researching, terrifying butterfly-bellied second.
Ellie doesn’t start school for another week and though I am loving the extra time in our jammies and the snuggles I am ready for her to go back now with all of her 406,708 questions a minute and make someone else’s head tired for just a little. Really.
Sometimes I pray that someone will magically want to bestow upon us a gift of paying the rest of our debt, and a little English cottage with a garden and no mortgage. Yup. I really do. You never know.
After having stated how grateful I was not to have to commute to NYC anymore, I’ve found myself already formulating plans to go back on several upcoming dates. Just because. It does that to you.
I have a mild obsession with proper English baking these days, which is not conducive to this insane weather. Scones for all!
The weather. Did I mention the weather? Mind you to remember that I never complain of the cold. The cold doesn’t make my legs chafe and my forehead sweaty and my head dizzy and perpetuate this slight nauseous feeling ALL day. My body rejects when the temperature climbs above 80. It has been a miserable week and I’m hearing it will just continue into the next. Though I abhor the heat, I do love when it stays lighter longer so I am trying to be grateful. Trying. While sitting in front of the refrigerator.
Though there’s been a resurgence in my baking, my cooking has all but disappeared. It’s too hot for that. Thai on speed dial. I’m on strike. Until risottos and cassoulets and roasts and stews can be on the menu, I am off duty.
I’ve been in awe of all mothers, watching this week as some of my friends return to school to teach and leave their young ones home. We are a strong, careful breed who constantly question whether or not we’ve made the right decision every 30 seconds. I know I do. I am with you all as you return and juggle over-crowded classrooms and high administrative expectations while you spend your lunch break crowded into the janitor’s closet, singing ABC’s to your littles on the phone. You’re all a marvel, and are doing a great job. Your kids will be better because of who you are.
I am unsure of how it goes in other households, but I would be completely lost without my husband. He’s a stellar parenting partner and does all the laundry, which I hate to do. But above all of that, I don’t know how anyone lives without doing so being married to their best friend. We can laugh no matter how tired or sad we are. He’s the one I’d choose over and over again. It’s fun to see how that hasn’t changed in the 12 years we’ve been together.
I must get better at keeping a calendar. The one on my phone is useless, I never look at it. How do you keep things organized????
I’ve officially written this blog post to avoid sorting all the bills. It can wait no longer.