everyday life

A Day in Data

  • 3.5 – miles run at 6am
  • 75 – minutes spent on the runway at Logan before taking off
  • 10 – number of times the cell phone of the elderly woman sitting next to me rang (loudly) before she successfully picked it up
  • 18 – floor I erroneously got off on en route to my first meeting. Went into every office on the floor before realizing I was on the wrong floor
  • 28 – correct floor for first meeting.
  • 6 – number of visible lightning bolts viewed during first meeting from conference room window. Interestingly, identical to illustrations in the book I read to the children over breakfast this morning.
  • 2 – resume typos I obnoxiously pointed out to headhunters in said meeting
  • 14 – blocks walked in pouring rain between first and second meeting
  • 3 – jumbo sized bags of candy eaten today
  • 1 – 20 ounce Diet Coke all day (aren’t you proud?)
  • 34 – minutes elapsed from touching down at Logan and walking in the door of my house
  • 10 – minutes until I go to sleep

Sleepover countdown

Grace is sleeping over at Clemmie’s tomorrow night. She has been avidly counting down the days until the sleepover, which was postponed from the last Friday in April. She has a calendar at her desk and she crosses off a day every day. The other morning she asked me how many days until the sleepover?” (as, truth be told, she asks me every morning). She then looked at her calendar and I could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears as the little wheels turned. She looked at me, eyes wide, and said, “So, the sleepover is on May eighth?” Why, yes. That kind of comment by her still amazes me.

Yesterday we were driving home from a playdate and talking about, yes, the sleepover. She was musing about how she is going to pack Charlotte, her American Girl Doll, and all of her various accessories. By the way, this news was not a surprise to me.

Then I reminded her that this was not, in fact, her first sleepover.

“Don’t you remember, Gracie, that you slept at James’s house, actually two times, when you were five?”

“Oh, mummy, yes, I do. But that’s just because you forgot me.”

“What?”

“Yes, you forgot to come and get me. That’s okay. But I know that.”

Ummm … no. But I’m ready to pick up my gold medal any time now.

Exercise pants for all

As we know, Whit is deeply enamored of his exercise pants. Oh, my, is he hilarious. This afternoon I was in my office when Grace and Whit came storming upstairs. Grace was talking to me about her day when Whit came out of his room (wearing his very favorite shirt, from Gloria), a knot of blue knit fabric in his hand.

“Here, Gracie. These exercise pants are for you.” He said, proferring the item with the solemnity of someone offering the crown jewels.

“Whit, I don’t want your exercise pants.” Grace rolled her eyes at me.

“Grace, come on, he is being nice.” I broke in.

“But they won’t fit me!” She protested.

“You won’t know until you try,” I said, thinking of how every single pair of pants she has ever worn has slipped down her hips to reveal her butt crack. My daughter the plumber.

“They are really good for exercise!” Whit, always in sales mode, insisted.

“Grace, just try them on.” I urged her on.

So she did. And they did exercises, together, on the third floor landing.



Reading at drop off


(when in doubt, post the art)

One little thing about Grace’s school I really like is that when we get there early (which, duh, is every time I take her to school) Grace picks a book from the library return box and we sit and read it. Every morning there are at least 3 or 4 parents reading to children in the hallway outside the kindergarten classrooms. Occasionally Grace will sidle up to a parent of one of her friends and quietly start listening. Or, likewise, I’ll feel a soft presence on my right and notice that Anna or Caroline is sitting there, silently listening to the story. I find it disarming that parents subtly shift to include multiple children, endearing that the children all seem to want to spend these minutes this way.

Above the cubbies the teachers display recent art, which is where I noticed this whale painting by Grace.

Writing his name, and a dandelion

Whit burst in the door after school today holding this mangled dandelion in his hands. He ran to me and offered it: “Mummy! I picked this flower for you!” It was so sweet it brought tears to my eyes. Then, in classic Whit style, he peppered me with questions: “Can you guess where I got it? Isn’t that your very favorite flower? Isn’t it so pretty and yellow?”

And the index card is the very first time Whit has written anything resembling his name! I am very proud. Grace writing her name merited a whole tabblo, which is now framed on her wall. I guess this is an awfully second-child style celebration of Whit’s milestone, but it is no less heartfelt!