A few nights ago, I noticed that it is finally getting dark out when the girls go to bed.
A helpful bonus in the transition from late nights and sleeping in. It seems I’m the only one left in this house still having a hard time with the before seven wake-up call.
Blessings come by way of the little things these days, and when I say little, I mean monumental. First, a woman who is about to become a dear friend (I can tell) has offered to drive my 1st grader home at least two days a week. She knows how huge this is, because she didn’t have someone like herself during the year of double pickups, preschool at noon and elementary school at three. With a baby–and sometimes a four year old–still cherishing that two to four o’clock nap, this is one of those little things that will not cease to blow the lid off my gratitude gauge this year.
Blessing number two came as another small surprise. It was a last minute decision to pull Carter back from the five day a week preschool class to the three day class. My primary purpose was purely selfish, and had very much to do with the double pickups, but it turns out, a force beyond my control was definitely at play here. Last year was a difficult year for our Tiny Monster, who purportedly hated school. This was evidenced by the fact that she got a time out every single school day until Christmas, when then they tapered off to about one a week.
So far this year, I have heard nothing but giggles and squeals of delight from both Carter and her teachers. Sounds silly, but every parent (former teacher or not) knows how much of a difference this makes. When someone else is in charge of my child’s happiness for the first four hours of a day, it really helps when things work. Not many people can find the secret to making Carter tick. As if I haven’t said it enough already, I love you Mrs. Lyon.
Meanwhile, I’ve spent the last two weeks tackling the joys of home ownership. Through a morning with a headlamp, a mirror, and YouTube, I learned that pop-up stopper rods in the bathroom sink are not supposed to be “L-shaped.” A three hour lesson. A ten minute solution.
Three nights ago, I took down, washed, ironed, and rehung all my super cheap Bed Bath and Beyond curtains. Once up, John and I were both convinced that somehow, none of them were the same length. He helped me take them all back down and line them up on top of each other, attempting to pair up those that matched.
They are definitely all the same length.
The moment confirmed that I obviously had a brain when I purchased the curtains, but have somehow lost it in the years they’ve been fading in the sunlight and collecting dust.
(Note: the next time my curtains are that dirty, we get new curtains.)
And in baby news, the latest report is that despite being raised in a house full of estrogen with three alpha-females all fighting for the title of dominant lioness, my son is definitely a boy’s boy. He’s been army crawling his way around the living room floor for the better part of an hour this morning, ignoring all the pastel baby toys scattered about, chasing the baseball I use to rub the knots out of my lower back. At this very moment, he is stuck in the fort he’s created for himself out of the lower shelf of the coffee table and looking at me with pretend bravery in his eyes.
Finally, this. A stunningly non-traditional celebration of eight years that are proving to be just that.