Mucking the Stalls

On a fun note, David dropped Saoirse off at school today super early. We were feeling fairly proud of ourselves–we’ve been cutting it too close lately, leaving too late, hitting traffic on the way to school, and it wasn’t fair to her or her sister. So, early, they left.

And then Dave was halfway to work when he got a call telling him that there wasn’t any school for kindergarten today, so could he please come back and pick up his daughter?

Doh.

1.17.14.Mucking the Stalls.Piglets

We have squeezed two years of house prep into a week. So much paint. So much throwing out of stuff. So much stuff in bags to donate. So much STUFF. A photographer was sent today to take pictures of the rooms, and I had to ask her not to take photos of the laundry room, because that’s where I’d shoved the leftover paint cans and random pictures and the basket of laundry I hadn’t had a chance to fold because the dear Cian got up at five-dear-Lord-why-forty-five this morning.

(On another note? Nothing, absolutely nothing gives me anxiety more than someone inspecting my house. She might as well have gone snooping in my lingerie drawer [ALL OF THOSE NURSING BRAS]. It’s just so…personal. And awkward. Kind of like that time after Saoirse’s first mommy-and-me swim lesson [she was, what, eight months old?], and my new friend Inga had to pick my underwear off the floor and hand it to me because it’d gone flinging from my bag across the locker room like a wayward spitball and landed on top of her diaper bag.

I know. It doesn’t get any less mortifying in the retelling.)

1.17.14. Mucking the Stalls. Pond

So, house is as ready as it’s going to get with three children, two animals, and one husband drooling everywhere (whoops. Sorry, Dave. Didn’t mean to lump you in with that group, there). I have a bunch of loose ends to finish, but you know, that’s always. We took the kids to our state farm show last weekend for milkshakes and baby chicks and a carousel ride, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy (if you can call watching a cowboy trot a horse by you on his way in to a rodeo while you stuff fried mozzarella in your face normal.). And, AND, I get to meet my agent and the wonderful writer MM Finck tomorrow night at a launch party (book nerd! book nerd!) for the great Kathryn Craft’s debut novel, so that’s kind of neat–a little reminder of, in all this craziness, the other world I have a foot in. Sort of. If you don’t mind that foot being covered with spilled apple juice.

And Saoirse most definitely doesn’t have school on Monday. I remembered that, so I’d say we’re heading in the right direction.

1.17.14.Mucking the Stalls.Cow

Here we go.

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