I Am Go For Launch
Enough I say! Enough with the wheezy lungs and the palely loitering. Enough with displaying all the volition of brown winter slush. I informed my husband that, starting fresh after March Break I had big plans to...have big plans.
Sunday was bright and sunny and spring-like. Eve went to play at her friend's house and I went through her clothes to make the spring stuff more accessible and get rid of the outgrown things.
I buy my kids' clothes too big. Not stupidly big, and not things like shoes, but if I can reasonably go a size up and have something fit a little longer, I will. The problem is, then once it's in their drawers or closets, I forget that just because it's too big now doesn't mean it will be forever. Because kids -- they keep on growing, the little buggers. So here I am going through Eve's underwear drawer, the underwear that I put out for her to wear every morning, which she happily wears. And I find that the biggest pairs in there, the ones I thought were the exact right size, are size SIX -- and she just turned EIGHT. And there's only a few of those pairs -- and the rest are even SMALLER.
I'm not sure what to be first -- disgusted with my cluelessness, or impressed with how my daughter maintains her sunny disposition even wearing underwear that's four sizes too small.
After tossing out a bunch of tiny adorable undies, I walked over to Eve's friend's house to have tea with the friend's Mom and then walk home with Eve. The girls had been playing outside for hours and she didn't even know I was there for an hour and then I had to call Matt to come pick us up because she couldn't walk another STEP (her underwear was probably too tight).
Monday was snowing. I forced myself out to the gym anyway (big plans will not be derailed by snow. Or really bad hair). I went to three different grocery stores for the right yeast and Eve's coconut yogurt, went home and made a honey-curry marinade for pork tenderloin for dinner, carried Eve's cast-off clothes downstairs and sorted them, took the kids to piano, went to the library and paid off my fines (I think of it as a donation), brought the kids home, made dinner, helped Eve with her science project, read Still Alice, felt absolutely certain I was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's, went to sleep. I know -- it's a slow day for most people, but it's more than I did for most of the last six weeks. And I did it all without crying. Or coughing. Much.
Today...wow, me not obsessing about being slothful and despairing is almost as boring as me obsessing about being slothful and despairing. Among the normal Tuesday stuff, today I am finally at the point where getting my hair cut, as horrible as it is, is still better than NOT getting my hair cut. In other words, I can't live like this any more. I also FINALLY called the dishwasher guy, which is HUGE -- I'm finally over thinking that it's quaint to have half your dishes come out covered with multi-coloured glued-on crap, AND somehow at the exact moment when I decided I was ready to dial the number and use my words like a big girl, the tiny purple scrap of paper I wrote the phone number on was magically available -- isn't it great when Me and The Universe suck less concurrently? Tomorrow I might do something crazy like make appointments with the eye doctor. Stand back, folks. I'm unstoppable.
Sunday was bright and sunny and spring-like. Eve went to play at her friend's house and I went through her clothes to make the spring stuff more accessible and get rid of the outgrown things.
I buy my kids' clothes too big. Not stupidly big, and not things like shoes, but if I can reasonably go a size up and have something fit a little longer, I will. The problem is, then once it's in their drawers or closets, I forget that just because it's too big now doesn't mean it will be forever. Because kids -- they keep on growing, the little buggers. So here I am going through Eve's underwear drawer, the underwear that I put out for her to wear every morning, which she happily wears. And I find that the biggest pairs in there, the ones I thought were the exact right size, are size SIX -- and she just turned EIGHT. And there's only a few of those pairs -- and the rest are even SMALLER.
I'm not sure what to be first -- disgusted with my cluelessness, or impressed with how my daughter maintains her sunny disposition even wearing underwear that's four sizes too small.
After tossing out a bunch of tiny adorable undies, I walked over to Eve's friend's house to have tea with the friend's Mom and then walk home with Eve. The girls had been playing outside for hours and she didn't even know I was there for an hour and then I had to call Matt to come pick us up because she couldn't walk another STEP (her underwear was probably too tight).
Monday was snowing. I forced myself out to the gym anyway (big plans will not be derailed by snow. Or really bad hair). I went to three different grocery stores for the right yeast and Eve's coconut yogurt, went home and made a honey-curry marinade for pork tenderloin for dinner, carried Eve's cast-off clothes downstairs and sorted them, took the kids to piano, went to the library and paid off my fines (I think of it as a donation), brought the kids home, made dinner, helped Eve with her science project, read Still Alice, felt absolutely certain I was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's, went to sleep. I know -- it's a slow day for most people, but it's more than I did for most of the last six weeks. And I did it all without crying. Or coughing. Much.
Today...wow, me not obsessing about being slothful and despairing is almost as boring as me obsessing about being slothful and despairing. Among the normal Tuesday stuff, today I am finally at the point where getting my hair cut, as horrible as it is, is still better than NOT getting my hair cut. In other words, I can't live like this any more. I also FINALLY called the dishwasher guy, which is HUGE -- I'm finally over thinking that it's quaint to have half your dishes come out covered with multi-coloured glued-on crap, AND somehow at the exact moment when I decided I was ready to dial the number and use my words like a big girl, the tiny purple scrap of paper I wrote the phone number on was magically available -- isn't it great when Me and The Universe suck less concurrently? Tomorrow I might do something crazy like make appointments with the eye doctor. Stand back, folks. I'm unstoppable.
Comments
Coconut yogurt as in coconut flavoured or made from coconut milk? I've been on a search for the latter.
The glued on crap from the dishwasher is still continuing though.