I like to listen to podcasts when I am in the car. I have turned into an old lady and most music just sounds like noise to me.. What happened to the music of the good ole days? On our way to school, we frequently listen to a couple of different news podcasts or story podcasts for little kids.
In my current position, I run from building-to-building teaching classes and putting out fires. In the evening, I drive to the city to learn all the new and exciting research in the areas of Assistive Technology and Multiple Disabilities. I manage to put dinner on the table every evening and I get the grocery shopping done every week. I don’t get much time to myself unless you count taking a shower…and even then a toddler sometimes manages to climb in. Lord knows I don’t get to go to the bathroom alone.
So how does a working mom wind down at the end of the day? On my way home from classes, I am in the car all by myself. I listen to My Favorite Murder podcast, of course.
I mean, there’s nothing more relaxing than murder, right? I know that many people may find this weird. But I am strangely fascinated by this topic. The more I mention this podcast, the more that I find I am not the only one. There is a cult following of this kind of sh!t. Who knows why. Certainly not me. And this particular podcast is hysterical. I know that murder and comedy don’t frequently go together but trust on on this. It just works. I am about 25 episodes in. At least in the beginning, it is easy to hear that Karen and Georgia are just two friends talking about a common interest they aren’t exactly professionals yet. They are still learning the lay of the land which is why it is that much more funny!
So this evening while the rest of you are binge watching something on Netflix, I will be cruising down the Stevenson exhausted by yet another 5:00 am to 10:00 pm day just listening to a couple of ladies talk about serial killers. NBD.
Remember. Stay sexy and don’t get murdered
I am writing for the 2019 March Slice of Life Challenge
But I don’t wanna go to bed. The sun is still up.
Daylight savings time is killer on a toddler’s routine. She gets out of her bed every 10-15 minutes until close to 9:30. Tomorrow morning is going to be awful. I need to wake her at 6:00 AM when her little body still thinks it’s 5:00 AM.
Come morning, I bribe her to get out of bed with the promise of some TV before we leave…as long as she gets a move on.
It’s not time to go to school, Mama. It’s too dark outside.
She’s right. Just last week the sun threatened to burn a hole through your eyes when we pulled from the garage. Leaving home in the dark has a certain kind of eeriness about it…so much more so than coming home in the dark.
Along our way to school, the sky begins to brighten and we can see the trucks hauling their cargo beside us. It’s a new favorite game of ours.
What’s in that truck, Mom?
I think it’s a whole bunch of balloons.
And that one?
It must be macaroni and cheese.
It’s a fun game that began one day when she saw a large salad painted onto the side of a semi as we traveled our familiar route.
Look. God is painting the sky this morning.
When I look at the horizon, my heart stops. She’s right. It’s so beautiful that it could only have been created by God.
I think my Angels are helping him. They like to paint.
These are such wise words from a child who has never really spent a Sunday morning in church. Although we talk about God and she unfortunately is all too familiar with angels, we don’t attend any sort of formal religious services. We pray pretty regularly a simple prayer of Thank you, God, for…and please keep safe… Of course, we talk about our Angel Grandmas–we have all too many of those. Although we are fortunate to have many Grandfathers, we are light on Grandmas as they have all been called to heaven much earlier than anyone could have ever anticipated.
My Angels are good painters. Do you see all that pink, Mama? That’s my favorite color. They know that. They are painting for me.
I’m sure they are, Little One. I’m sure they are.
I am writing for the 2019 March Slice of Life Challenge
It snowed the other day. And although it is March, this is Chicago so it isn’t that unusual. Snow happens and the world moves on. I have always loved the snow, especially if I do not have to go anywhere. Somehow the neighborhood seems quieter and warmer as if it is insulated.
During our unsuccessful nap time yesterday, I noticed something that I had been suspecting for a while. McK is a sponge. She is sucking up every little thing I do and spitting it back out at me.
I remember as a child that I loved Daylight Savings Time. We got an extra hour of sunlight and I barely even noticed the shift of time. I’m sure my mom did. And as a parent, let me tell you, this shift is torture. My years of teaching have done nothing to prepare me.
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.
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.