Friday, February 11, 2011

Friday Checklist Or Getting S*** Done

Morning Readers,

      What a glorious day. I woke up that was good. But it's Friday, and therefore, much cause for celebration. Tomorrow is husband's birthday, which means anticipation of a little more time to ourselves, and a calender of events that will hopefully knock his socks off (get your mind out of the gutter Readers). But more on that later. Today I have a few menial tasks to complete before I dive headfirst into relaxation.
     What to start with? Ah yes, I meant to document it yesterday, but it just so happens that my twins turned nine months old.  Success! I know quite a few mothers who refuse to breathe a sigh of relief or congratulate themselves, until the year mark, but I prefer to rejoice in the monthly triumph of keeping your children fed, mobile, and somewhat clean.

     Marking this joyous occasion, the phone call I made, first thing this morning, letting the doctor's office know I'm "unable" to bring the twins in for their nine month checkup. Please read as, "I am much too lazy and/or tired to lug my offspring into your office to watch them get jabbed with needles. We'll fight Polio on Monday instead." Maybe this makes me a bad mom? Don't's Friday.
     Having moved the horrific doctor's trip to the side, I'm now free to clean, have a cup of delicious Chai, and prepare myself for another encounter with the large Russian woman who works on the bit of tailoring I need from time to time. (Yes Readers, I use a tailor; Not because it's 1879 or because I'm better than you, but they're a few things I need fixed, time and again, that I can't wing with a hot glue gun nor duct tape.) Now that I think about it, I've never mentioned her. And although she does fabulous work, her size suggests that she could snap me in half. I'm not ashamed to admit my twinge of nervousness every time I step into her back shop filled with clothing and bits of fabric.  

She's not here to beat you, just hem your pants, you silly thing. 

 Or at least, that's the speech I give myself before getting out of my car. Depending on how today's pick-up goes, I might have to document it on Monday.
    After my jaunt to the tailor, I may just have to make a deposit of my children to their grandmother, while I do all the other missions babies hate accompanying you on. Namely, car washes.... due the the suggestiveness that a giant monster is eating the vehicle, and is determined to break-in and eat baby toes as well. The last trip to the car wash resulted in  absolute terror I'd rather not re-live anytime soon.
Much wide-eyed screaming and writhing in horror.....never again.
     So there you have it. You don't have to tell me it's an exciting agenda. I already KNOW this. It comes with the territory of being an impressive, multi-tasking, "wear my slippers out and maybe everyone will think they're shoes" kind of mom. Check back with me on Monday for a flavorful post on a rowdy weekend.

Until next Time Readers!