Each Saturday morning, McK and I make our way to the gym. Along the route we talk about her buddy that will be there, the tumble track, and doing tick tock legs for warm up. It is a Mommy and Me class. My sister half jokingly called me a good mom when I told her we had signed up insert eye roll here. It’s that working mom guilt that made me do it. Tumbling was something we could do together. It would be fun. And although I can appreciate McK’s enthusiasm, running through a gym putting her on every piece of equipment for an hour straight wears this mama out. Just thinking about it makes me want to cancel.
Slicing is hard. I’ve tried to think all day of something to slice. I’ve wondered, is this slice worthy? more than one time today. The answer is always no. No one wants to read about my breakfast (scrambled eggs on an English muffin if you are wondering). No one is dying to hear about my backsplash dilemma (there is NOTHING out there that I like).
Today started out like most. I felt the impending weight of dread since my feet hit the floor. Things have been going so well lately. The other shoe is bound to drop. We rush to get out of the house and quickly melt into tears at daycare drop off.
Today is the Day Without Women. And although I would like to fully participate, the only people that would be truly punished would be my students and my own daughter. You see, as a
woman person I do a lot each and every day that goes unnoticed by most but would have the biggest impact on the smallest.
I have been waiting. And waiting. AND WAITING. It took us forever to find the house we wanted to turn into a home. Few knew we were even looking. We would venture out under the guise of going to Great Grandma and Grandpa’s house for the football game. We did do that. But we would just stop at one to five houses for sale along the way.
On Mondays, McK gets to spend the day with her Dada. He works four ten hour days in a row so that he has Monday off with our little one. He works hard so he can play hard. We consider it a gift that he can do this.
I don’t want to brag, but my grandma made the best pancakes. How did she make those silver dollar yummies? They were crispy along the edges and soft in the middle. Teeny tiny little pancakes made for teeny tiny hands. And on a Sunday, you could find piles of them waiting for you in the microwave. Everyone knew they were there and we all helped ourselves. Continue reading
It’s been a long day to day the least. Being awoken way too early by a not feeling well husband only to find I was the one who couldn’t fall back to sleep is not the best start. I quietly waited for McK to stir but she decided today was the day she would sleep in. We missed her weekly tumbling class but her BFF wasn’t able to go anyway. Phew. No need to feel guilty.
Yesterday, someone randomly mentioned the town where I went to college. This is weird. Jacksonville, ILLINOIS is a tiny little town in the middle of no where. It has quite possibly the world’s smallest college that NO ONE has ever heard of. Then, my BFF texted me to see if I wanted to go for a mani/pedi on Saturday. These events seem unrelated but they created the perfect storm for a wave of memories to come tumbling back into the forefront my my mind.
There are parts of me I don’t share. For those of you who know me, this may come as a surprise. I keep some things private or save them just for my husband or my best friend. I feel vulnerable opening up to you all here. I’m not sure how deep I will go. Or if in the end, I will only write about things that are inconsequential. My hope is that as I continue to write daily, I will become more comfortable with baring my soul to this little online community. I also hope that I do not embarrass myself (or my husband) in the process.