Friends, T and I were not pleased to have been woken up at 1:53am: "Mom! Dad! Mom! Dad! I need help putting my shirt on! I'm brr!" A) Oliver, you're the one who wanted to sleep without a shirt on even though I told you you might get cold, and B) since when was it hard for you to put on a shirt? Mother of... and then again at 5:42am as the boys barreled in, light-sabers clashing, at stake the Empire, with a side of "we're hungry and want breakfast NOW."
I swear to you I could not even begin to count the number of times we have opined that UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE (except an exceedingly dire one) should either child disrupt us before 6:15. Jack has a clock and feels extremely proud of his ability to tell time. Oliver has a light that turns from a moon to a sun when the time has come. These are neither difficult cues nor an onerous rule. While drinking my coffee, I realized I felt as if I'd pulled an all-nighter in a disco. Then I remembered I was to drive carpool and head to Pilates.
I hurriedly dressed in my new outfit- magenta yoga pants and a pink top a few shades lighter- grabbed my raincoat and hauled it out the door with Jack. Only when walking into Pilates did I realize what a pink-nut I looked like. In addition to the outfit, my raincoat is yet another shade of vibrant magenta, and my toes are painted Elephantastic Pink. Surely I looked like some kind of vision as I headed into class.
Fast forward thirty minutes, and I'm in the lobby, shirt in my lap, damp peppermint tea bags resting around the sports bra straps on both shoulders, a Reiki master who also fills in at the front desk performing some gratis healing. Some combination of fatigue, hormones, stress and stretch caused my neck to spasm and then seize. It feels like someone poured electrified cement into my neck and shoulders which then hardened. I'm moving like a mannequin and am still clad in magenta.
And then there's our pathetic excuse for a Senate who apparently is too impotent and weak and cowardly to pass something as critically needed and simple and supported as background checks for people who want to purchase guns. The NRA must be laughing their heads off right now.
This piece by Gabby Giffords is a good one!