There were tons of things floating about my mind this a.m. as we left our home. We'd stayed up late, M enthused and re-inspired with a new direction she'd wished to take her paper, due today and originally finalized earlier in the week. The other mornings this week have gone smoothly, yet, it's Friday, the final day of a fine, full week.
Monday night I stayed up to skim-read her newest school book, A Raisin in the Sun, as her study sheet mentioned abortion. What? My 12 year old is being assigned a play to read about abortion and I'm not forewarned? I am tired. The play is fine enough but I'm glad I get to discuss it with her, too. Secretly, I'm glad that she hates reading the poor grammar out loud. I'm less fond of her correcting mine. I digress. I've been trying to keep laundry up, other house work, work-work, everything while we're living life this beautiful week. The cats "escaped" through M's window, even Tinkerbell was about to. We missed Indie at the time. Mr. Independence joined Daisy and I later, outside, grease on his white fur. Classes. Did I mention I was tired?
My cell phone had said "snooze on." I ponder its intent half asleep. I'm sure it means that the snooze feature is on until you decide to turn off the alarm, sleepyhead. Instead, I think of the photo hut guy on "That 70's Show," saying "rock on, man" in his theoretically drugged out fashion.
Lamenting my current continued lack of WestSoy Vanilla SoyShake, I make us both chai tea lattes with skim milk instead. Walk Daisy. Breakfast for the masses, M packs her lunch (hmmm), water bottles, clean bubble socks and bloomers for tonight, kitty litter boxes cleaned, kitty treats and pets and belly scratches, super super quick shower I don't even blowdry my bangs until lunchtime but I do brush my teeth. Cover the new toothbrushes as Billy discovered where I had them hidden, and he loves to chew on them. Daisy want a Pupperoni (dog treat)? M, do you have a white sweater I can wear, do you have socks for riding? (She just called, yep, Barn Director is having her ride. It's gotten hot out by now, too.) Mom, can you grab my light rain jacket?
I'm vaguely hearing Weasel talking, the local legend disc jockey Weasel. Something about Hollywood and a new style or trend. Older women. Long hair. Huh? Even his postal carrier has great long hair, he likes long hair (not a surprise somehow). This is sounding good to me. Wonder if they tend to dye it, or just keep it cut nicely. Who did he say was setting this trend? Tomorrow is the day postal carriers hold a food drive collection, can I do that, one item or two I think, even while feeding my father and us.
I try to joke, "So, M, think I should grow out my hair, be one of these stylish long-haired older ladies?" I chalk up M's silence to my no-makeup yet, damp bangs and the back twisted up quickly into a clip, look at that moment in time. My long hair can look nice.
"Mom, are you driving me to your work again, or are you going to take me to school first?"
Sigh. She was only 1 minute late, after I turned around.