*The following was written yesterday and lost before publication, hence the condensed version you saw published. Somehow I recovered this today (on my iPhone no less) and like it enough to get over the repetition in subject. I’m also over my inability to figure out how to do italics while typing on a phone.*
For the record, both of my little sisters are getting married this year. Truth be told in entirety, in three months I can say that all three of my siblings got married in 2011, which is kind of like my worst nightmare as a parent, and I’m surprised my parents’ heads haven’t exploded yet. (Though, John and his one brother also got married exactly 2 weeks apart and his parents also survived, so it is nice to know that it can be done, should similar circumstances befall me one day in 2032.)
I seem to remember a few weeks ago (a few?) the onset of anxiety as a result of imagining an entire summer without preschool. This was about a minute before I was reminded that my manifesto to “never be in another wedding after my own” doesn’t extend to immediate family.
Tomorrow, July will be exactly half over. So far, I haven’t had even one entire week of kid-entertainment planning duty. Awesome.
First it was two weeks of swim lessons, which, although we got stuck in the what-almost-killed-us 9:15am class, turned out to be shared with two very cool women from church and a new friend named Hilary who ended up on my porch for book club before the lessons were over. Then, the girls went to Michigan with Daddy and I made dress decisions with Laura. The next week was Vacation Bible School (only for Eliott) which is the first time I’ve noticed exactly how rarely Carter is not running her mouth. The location of VBS also resulted in the discovery of my new favorite grocery store. While Eliott was filled with the Holy Spirit, our freezer with filled with discounted meat. Amen.
Then, John and I had our first weekend together and without kids since our honeymoon (which was actually last summer). We spent two nights away visiting two different sets of friends, celebrated first pregnancies on both ends, and drank on behalf of the moms-to-be. We checked in on the un-sold condo and two hours later (in the middle of Ikea), our realtor called to tell us after almost 11 months, someone finally wanted to buy it. There is a very delicate emotional balance of relief and disappointment that comes with selling property at a loss, but I’m guessing that this is another one of those big picture moments of life that I will not actually be looking back on one day and regretting. In the meantime, I’m trusting the difference will be made up in the form of business for my genius, not to mention dead-sexy, and competent, attorney husband. (No pressure darling.)
Carter’s birthday came early with Grandma and Grandpa (and fireworks), came again on time with just us, and came yet again with Mimi and Pop Pop in Tennessee. The kid now associates lighting the citronella candles on the back porch with singing “Happy Birthday.” While my children were in Tennessee, I was in Las Vegas for more sister/wedding celebrations, which I graciously forgot was three time zones away. I turn 30 in exactly one month and one day and am not for one minute embarrassed to admit that I’m possibly a little too old for staying out until 3am. (But apparently I’m not too old for 4 inch heels, trading clothes with 25 year olds, and blonde wigs.)
The recovery has been made easier by the fact that while I was gone, my type-A-in-denial husband had fully gutted the three most disorganized rooms in the house and put them back together in a way that would make the producers of Hoarders proud. Our moms will be happy to know that if we have any more tornadoes this year, we can now fit in the closet under the stairs and won’t be forced to brave the wind in the middle of the night to run next door for safety. Eliott, who permitted me a three hour nap yesterday afternoon, exclaimed simply: “Daddy made the house FUN!” This was her response to finding that an entire closet of “lost toys” had been found. Nevermind that more than half of them are Happy Meals prizes.
So we have three weeks ahead of a rigorous schedule balancing time at the gym, the pool, the park, and the library, before Erica’s wedding in Spokane. Oh and I might have a few books to read for book club. My life is difficult.
Today, I’m eating the first tomatoes out of my garden with mozzarella cheese.