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Category: It Was Awesome

Vroom

Saoirse has been talking for the last six months about going back to the Auto Show. The Auto Show, you ask? What is this fancy event that sounds so vague yet warrants proper noun capitalization? Well, friends, the Auto Show (yes, I’m sticking with the capital letters because now I’ve set a precedent…) is an annual, well, show that displays, um, autos. Cars, for those of you who aren’t familiar with my experienced fancy-schmancy technical jargon. Big cars, little cars, Ford, Toyota, Audi, Porsche: they’re all there. They don’t let you get in the Porsches, though. Don’t ask how I know. We expected SK to be excited walking in, of course.  Her fascination with anything on wheels has not faded in the last three years. What caught us by surprise was Quinn’s absolute wonder.  She was amazed by all of those cars, and those two little girls tore through that expo center like acrobats through a circus (yes, acrobats. They tripped a lot, on all the wires underneath the carpet.  And climbed, and rolled and ran…). Honest to goodness, the Auto Show was…

My Thank You

Yesterday was one of those days:  not the kind that immediately gets off to a bad start, but the kind that starts out relatively well, then, say, within an hour of daybreak, starts a steady slide into a mess of a misplaced shoes, and “I don’t like waffles for breakfast!”, and just throwing all the dirty dishes into the sink because if you take the time to do them now–still have to get those shoes, you know–you’ll be late again to preschool drop-off. So.  Not a bad day, per se.  Just one of those days.  You picking up what I’m stepping in? The situation hadn’t changed much by the time Quinn and I went to pick Saoirse up from school.  We got there early, since I was the “Guest  Reader” that day (So much squirming, these precious little kids do…), gathered up my eldest, and away we went. Every single day after we leave school, Saoirse asks if we can go to a “lestaraunt” for lunch.  Every day, the answer is no, sweetie, we’re heading home to have…

Do You Hear That? Me, Neither

It’s like we turned a corner, suddenly found ourselves out of that sketchy neighborhood, and can now unlock our doors and sit up straight in our seats. It’s as if that awful fist fight between Ashton Kutcher and Wilmer Valderrama really was just a bad nightmare after all, and I’ve woken up to find that I’m not really stuck in the body of Topher Grace, and I don’t have live on the set of That 70’s Show with shag carpeting and tiny, tiny televisions.  I feel like the rain clouds have moved away, and I’m twirling on the mountaintop, arms outstretched, petticoat swinging, hurling my happy voice to the tops of the clouds and the floating birds. The children are getting along. Do you hear me, people?!  The children. are getting. along.  Getting along getting along getting along!!  They’re playing together and beside each other and in the same room and they’re GETTING ALONG!! Hallelujah.  Let the choirs sing the glory, shall we? Last week was what I would call a “lost week.” The kind of days where there&#8217…