Don’t get confused. I haven’t undergone a radical change to become a paragon of preparedness and forethought. I have, however, managed to purchase a winter coat for Colby before snow is on the ground. This is something we usually get around to after he has spent a week going to school with his ever-broadening wrists exposed and wearing mismatched dollar store stretchy gloves.
Apparently it is so cold on the sun porch that he must wear his new coat and hat.
It’s been one of those weekends that I enjoy more because my winter-self is perched inside my left inner-ear reminding me that the clock is ticking.
The above picture may chronicle the most terrifying event of my life – in which I, one lone adult, take three, 12-year-old boys to hike a mountain. Believe me – I knew exactly how far we were from the nearest hospital. I certainly heard snippets of conversations I wish I hadn’t heard (“That’s what she said! hahahaha!”), but when I heard them pointing out trees and birds and aweing over the foliage, the terror and the education was totally worth it. On the way down a woman told me I was brave, and while I was thankful for the compliment, she and I both knew that what I was demonstrating was not bravery, but a combination of optimism and stupidity. I’m glad we’re down now.
My parents picked us up to celebrate Pumpkin Day. What?! You don’t celebrate PUMPKIN DAY?! Oh people. Pumpkin Day is an annual holiday that always occurs on the Sunday after my childhood friend Jenny’s birthday.
We spent one day with our friends at Owls Head Transportation Museum. Colby spent the evening with Mimi and Papa, and we had a rare quiet car ride. Since Colby doesn’t really fit in the back of any of our vehicles and I get motion sick, our family car trips tend to be filled with lots of clearly articulated complaints or passive-aggressive sighing. We’re all guilty, and it tends to be enjoyable for none of us. I popped two Dramamine at breakfast and slept nearly the whole way down and back – a present for me, a present for Matt.
It’s the last week of soccer season here, and I’m just now doing the laundry from last Thursday’s monsoon game. This was not a smart move on my part. As much as I want to run out the door to make a 6 o’clock yoga class, the smells of last week’s laundry are beginning to mingle with the aroma of last week’s dishes. I’m not sure which one is worse, and this means I need to tackle it all.
I’ve decided that I am going to keep some of that bravery from the weekend tucked in my pocket, because I really need the optimism to balance out the stupidity of our daily routines, or lack of. So this week: real dinners! finished homework! umbrella and blankets packed!
from midnight oil 