Whine: I caught Lil’ Sis throwing a washcloth into the toilet. When I reprimanded her, she scampered away beyond the bathroom door, poked her around from the other side, then said ”Bye!” as she shut the door and took off. There’s something to be said for a kid who knows how to make a quick getaway.
Cheese: I bribed the children to help clean up the kitchen after dinner tonight. I can’t say it made the process any more efficient, but if I’m not raising them to be my own little labor force, then why am I having all these kids? Besides, there’s nothing quite so cute as the toddler who still thinks helping mommy “put away” the silverware is fun, little does she know it’s only the beginning of a lifetime of servitude.
Two months from now (give or take a few days depending on how big and/or stubborn this baby is, which, if his sisters are any indication will be VERY) my life as I currently know it is going to stop. My current existence of eating regular(ish) meals, sleeping most nights, and occasionally wearing something other than my gigantic grey sweatpants is going to look downright luxurious compared to what’s coming.
Upon realizing this, I did what any intelligent woman with a looming baby sentence would do. I went on vacation.
A very, very, very dear friend of mine* was kind enough to go ahead and diligently work for several years and get her Master’s just so she would have a reason to throw a big party just so I would have a reason to escape one last time before having my third baby. Pretty impressive planning on her part, I would say.
So anyway, this friend, let’s call her Kel, invited me to this FABulous party to celebrate her milestone, and being the loving, supportive and sacrificial friend that I am decided I would put aside all the very important toilet-retrieval and other sweatpant-related goings-on in my life and head out to Arizona for a weekend.
The day of the blessed vacation finally arrived and Mr. Dad and the kids dutifully shuttled me to the airport, terminal C, just like it said on my Itinerary.** I said my goodbyes. Lil’ Sis shed a few tears and Big Sis barely looked up from the cartoon she was watching on Mr. Dad’s cell phone to say goodbye. I gave Mr. Dad a big “I-can’t-believe-you’re-so-nice-to-let-me-leave-you-with-them“ kiss and we went our separate ways.
As I headed inside, I checked my text messages only to discover that my flight would be departing from terminal A. In an airport like ours, getting yourself from one terminal to the next very quickly requires a passport and some bribe money, so I ran back to the curb in hopes that I could catch Mr. Dad before he got very far.
So then I’m running in high heeled boots, with no coat in the sub-freezing wind, pulling a pink polka-dotted suitcase and trying to call him on my cell phone. I can see the taillights getting farther and farther away. After six unsuccessful phone-call-while-running attempts, a few awkward almost-falls and the back end of the car disappearing around the corner, I decided to call one more time before giving up.
Finally my Knight answered and assured me he would be back around to retreive me in just a few minutes, which he was. On our journey to the other terminal I discovered that my many phone calls were unsuccessful because Big Sis was watching her cartoons on the phone and didn’t know (or did she?) about call waiting. But it was no matter at that point because I was getting to the right place after all.
Upon exiting the car a second time, I gave all the requisite kisses, and Lil’ Sis, like the sweet and appropriately-attached child she is, did her requisite crying. Not too much crying, but just enough to let me know that I am a valuable part of her daily life. Big Sis, again, barely acknowledged my exit.
But then, just as I was about to shut the door, she shouts urgently ”Just a minute, Mommy! I need to tell you something!!”
I poke my head back in. “Yes?” I ask, waiting for her to melt my heart. “What is it?”
“Mommy,” she says, “don’t call again. I’m watching a movie.”
And with that, my trip began. At least I didn’t feel guilty for leaving her. . .
The trip itself was luxurious. Fantastic. Relaxing. Fun.
I met another very, very, very dear friend*** of mine at the airport, let’s call her Jo. We spent the whole flight catching up and making plans for the weekend. We arrived with no hassle, and I marvelled at the ease of this novelty called child-free travel. I realized it’s been a LONG TIME since I did that. I really should do it more often. But, I digress.
One of the reasons that I love these two very, very, very dear friends (besides the blackmail) is because I met them at the height of my nerdiness (freshman year of college, the year the oversized flannel shirt met the permed hair and fluffy bangs) and not only did they NOT turn and run the other way, they embraced my nerdy ways, possibly because they are also nerds. Our nerdy fun back then included, but was not limited to, Michael W. Smith sing-alongs, dressing up in various costumes for no reason and cavorting through the dorm, and kidnapping other people’s action figures and holding them for ransom (hey, we weren’t allowed to drink or dance or even buy lottery tickets, don’t blame us).
So if nerdiness is one of our common bonds, I am sure that they will appreciate the fact that I took the liberty of illustrating our time together in the form of a pie chart.
But although I am a NERD of the highest order (see above), I am not equally gifted in all areas of nerdiness. I am generally lacking in Technology category (see above). If you wish to view the pie chart in all it’s glory, just give it a click and take it all in.
Basically, what the chart so neatly illustrates is that we haven’t changed much at all. We like to eat, sleep, shop and waste vast amounts of time doing stupid things. But most of all, we like to talk. We spent an entire day’s worth of hours just talking. Some of it was very deeply impacting, particularly the part about how addictive my chocolate chex mix was (covered in powdered sugar, how’d I get that through airport security?). But most of it was just about life. About jobs, families, being codependent with your dvr, etc. . . And that’s really why we’re friends. Because in the end, your friends are the ones who are willing to talk about the pros and cons of expensive high-heeled boots because it matters to you. (And because they might want to borrow them sometime.)
So thanks for a great weekend girls! Thanks for giving the bed to the pregnant girl. Thanks for making a list of all the Important! Things! we would do, then checking them off one by one, like any proper Type A. Thanks for letting me take a break from Mommyhood and rest up before this next stage of my life begins. And thanks for breaking bread with me over a table full of shrimp and shrimp-related items. But most of all, thanks for liking me the way I am, pie charts and all.
*By very, very, very dear I mean she has photos of me from college which would show me in many comprimising fashion/hair positions.
**When I say Itinerary, I don’t mean the thing you print out with your tickets. I mean the thing that Jo makes with each and every detail of the trip. You know, like contact info, addresses, gates and times for all travelers, etc. But then she also includes the a chart with the weather, a title for the weekend, a cute picture pasted on top and a google map of all relevant locations. Speaking of nerds. . .
***Yeah, she’s got photos, too.