Delicious, tired

Wow you guys, I am wiped out. Do you know what I learned this week? That the few hours of babysitting I had Monday/Tuesday were not enough. Since Wednesday morning I have done nothing on my own personal to-do/want list. Not one darn thing. Despite my efforts to not over-schedule the children, it appears we had gymnastics, chess and baseball practice within 72 hours as well as a class play, absurd amounts of laundry, some pets that apparently want attention, and so forth. At 5:30p tonight, I told the kids that they better keep on with their Tic-Tac-Toe game because if I didn't shower, a) my greasy hair would literally slither out of my head, b) I would go crazy from yukkiness, or c) both+. They swore they'd not open the front door so I took the opportunity to give my legs a cursory shave and my hair a MUCH-needed wash. When I emerged I found, to my jump-out-the-window dismay, that T had texted to say that he wouldn't be home until at least 7:30p. Mother of....Bath- and bed-time solo again. I bathed the kids in a less than detailed way and then informed them that Jack would be reading the goodnight stories whilst I took a load off downstairs. With wine.


It had to be done, peeps. They were fine. Had a ball.

I also informed T that I would not be doing bath- or bed-time at any point this weekend.

On a more positive note, I made a bitchin' dinner of seared halibut with mango-lime salsa and my now-finalist-nominated caramelized fennel, leek and orange salad. SO good, HIT the spot. I also enjoyed a bit more wine, brainstormed with a dear friend about what she should do with the zucchini she'd just mandolined (I suggested mojito zuc; apparently it was a total success), conversed with a dear pen-pal friend, Karen, about her birthday (which is now), and then, for the first time(!), spoke to my F52 long-distance friend, boulangere, aka Cyn.



Tomorrow, the boys are heading to T's parents' house for the day and an overnight. This is incredible, and I am thrilled. They are so great but god, the noise and talking are wearing. Like a bayou wake against un-wharfed land; rough!