It is 8 o’clock in the morning on my favorite day of the week. My son is still asleep and should be for at least another hour. John took the girls to school a half an hour ago, and on Fridays, they stay until 1:30. (This is late for Carter and early for Eliott and if I could lobby for 1:30 all-school pick up every day through at least sixth grade, you better believe I would.) The heat is kicking on in the house, but the weather predicts it should be sixty degrees tomorrow.
It seems like every year in North Carolina we complain that we had a “bad Fall, like, it was a million degrees all summer, then all of a sudden it was freezing. But I want to note for the record that this year has not been bad at all. We barely wore coats on Halloween, a first for us since having kids. We’ve had one or two very cold days, interspersed among several unseasonably warm days. I know this because I’ve tried to put away the summer clothes and permanently take out the winter clothes and I haven’t yet successfully completed that transition.
But I’m not complaining.
I am in the middle of several projects right now. Some of which, I’m winning at. Others, I’m decidedly getting it handed to me.
First, I’m feeling really good about the $35 pre-lit Christmas tree I found last week on Craigslist. Never mind that the back-and-forth text messaging required would make any fifteen year old on a city bus look technologically illiterate. Never mind that the meet up time agreed upon was actually pushed back by more than thirty minutes, during which, I sat in my car, taking stock of all the items in the yard I could only imagine were also “awaiting pickup” from other Craigslist hopefuls like me. Never mind that the tree itself, described as coming “in its own bag” was so large it took me and another average sized woman to drag it across the yard and awkwardly stuff it into the entire back seat of my seven-person minivan.
Since all my bragging, several people have asked if I promptly came home and plugged it in to see if it even works.
I have not.
The lady was very nice. Her husband’s toenails were painted like pumpkins. I feel like I can trust them.
I then turned around and sold my Charlie Brown Christmas tree that has served us diligently over the last three years, for the exact same price I originally paid for it, which is ten dollars. Win.
I have been offered three writing/consulting jobs in the last three weeks or so. One job, with this local law firm, I was already being paid for but largely doing nothing. One job is from a stranger who calls himself “Kevin” and it arrived with a deposit in my PayPal account that appears to be legit. The final job is a teaching/ministry idea that has been swimming in my head for a couple of years now and the thought of turning it into a reality sooner rather than later has become a little more tangible.
At any rate, the take home message is I’m doing a lot of writing and a lot of talking about writing, and getting more plugged in to the business side of my husband’s business, and all of these things are making me feel like wearing high heels at home, just because. Win.
(Meanwhile, John and others are wondering why I’m spending the better part of my morning blogging instead of doing some of the legitimate work I’m currently being paid to do. Bygones.)
I’ve been on a mission for a little over a year to rid my closets of any item of clothing that has no chance of being in style at the time it fits me (or anyone else in this house) again. I’ve found a little shop in town who takes just about everything I can throw at her and actually sells it. It turns out, the end of month bonus is just a bonus, but the best part of is driving away empty handed and knowing that a small cluttered space in my home and brain is clear. Oh yeah, and I didn’t have to write any of my own labels. Win.
As for the loser side of things, I had a moment a week or so ago, just after a pre-school conference for Carter, in which the idea of her progressing to Kindergarten next year was presented as “a possibility if–” rather than a given.
I about fell out, people.
If The Tiny Monster does not go to school full time next year, I’m not actually sure what might happen to me as a stay-at-home mom. I’m currently running off the fuel and fumes of the “only 7 more months till Kindergarten” promise.
And the worst part of her “readiness” has nothing to do with her brain. It has everything to do with her birthday and her attitude. Of all the educational milestones she has not yet (NY) checked off her little pre-school list (this is what you get when you pay for premium private school) John and I are more than positive the impetus stems less from “can’t” and swings much stronger toward “You’ve got to be kidding me.” That last line spoken in the head of my four-year-old, in which you can audibly discern the accompanying eye-roll.
No. Seriously. It might kill me.