this is a page for

Category: Reality Check

Don’t Ask Me If I Shouted “Opa!”

I set the kitchen on fire two nights ago. David was in Atlanta for work, and the kids and I had stopped off at the grocery store after school to pick up some fresh food to cook for dinner. It’d been a week of scraping together leftovers and take-out, so I was actually excited to get back to a routine. I’d found a recipe for zucchini noodles in an avocado pesto sauce (Don’t laugh. I like that kind of stuff, okay? STOP LAUGHING), and picked up some burgers to make for the kids, because I’m not a monster who only feeds my kids zoodles.  It was seriously the perfect afternoon. The kids played outside (Quinlan just learned how to ride a bike, which means that she pulled her old, too-small bike out of the garage, got on it, and started pedaling–because that’s just how the Mighty rolls) while I put the groceries away and started dinner. They’d gotten their homework finished, and we had a wide-open evening ahead of us, and I’d promised them a cozy dinner and then some time…

She Might Have a Point

Some days go along better than others: those are the days where you feel like you actually are conquering this life thing. And then other days, your nine-year-old serves you a reality check, like this one: Saoirse was in my office, hanging out, when I saw her take a long look at the expanse of blank wall that sits opposite the front windows. “Mom?” she asked. “Why don’t you have any pictures there?” I glanced at it. That blank wall bugs me, but it’s staying that way for now. “Because your dad and I want to knock a hole in that wall,” I said, “to make a doorway into the living room.” “But then people will see your messy office,” she said. I felt a little indignant at this. I’m not messy all the time. There are moments when you can see a clear surface in here. Sometimes, anyway.  “Well, then, I’ll keep it neat!” I replied. Saoirse kept looking at the wall, thinking, then shook her head. “I don’t think that’s going to work out.”  See…

So Full of It

We’re doing such a good job, I think. We don’t buy lots of toys for our kids. They’re content with what they have, I say. We regularly weed out toys they don’t use or have outgrown and give them away. We are so anti-establishment, I think. Take that, consumerism, I think some more. We are above you. And then I realize how a) annoying my brain is, and b) I’m full of shit.My mother saw the kids the other night–David was out of town, and I’m wrecked with a cold, so she and my aunt called to say they were driving over to help out for a bit (having super nice retired folk who live within an hour radius of your house and are either related to/love you is a lucky, lucky thing). She was sitting with them, and she leaned over to say, “Now, girls. I know it’s early, but I’d really like it if you could give me some ideas of what you’d like for Christmas soon. Like, within the next couple of weeks…