Today

I’m listening to the Once soundtrack, and writing in between the stages of dinner preparations. I bought a loaf of french bread at Target this afternoon, and I just sliced a big hunk off, slathered it with butter, and sprinkled pepper on it. Don’t turn up your nose until you try it- I’m convinced this is a Fox Hill thing. I never saw anyone put pepper on bread (or spaghetti, or pizza, or Chinese food, for that matter- but don’t worry, I draw the line at bread) until I started dating Jeremy and went to Sunday dinner with his grandparents every week. His grandfather is a pepper fanatic, a trait Jeremy has inherited, and Ashton too, it seems.

My kids had a dentist appointment today. Just routine cleaning. I’m always afraid I’m going to project my terror onto them. They do very well, but one of these days, the fact that I’m constantly asking them if they’re okay is going to register, and they’re going to wonder why they shouldn’t be okay.

Their dentist is gorgeous. Oh yes. He is. He’s tall, with dark eyes, and a cap of dark curls, like a bowlful of noodles. I’m a sucker for curls. He makes eye contact with patients, and he calls Chloe Peanut. It’s not really that I have a little crush on him, but it’s not like I dress as if I’m going to Walgreen's to buy toilet paper either.


It’s after dinner now, and I’m counting down the minutes until I can put the kids to bed. I need a break. I really do. I’m tired of refereeing, and saying “Because I said no!” I can tell when I’m being stretched thin- I forget the whole “count to ten” thing, and just snap before I even think about being calm. i.e.: Chloe is flitting around the house, turning lights on and off. She’s a light switch junkie. She just caused the hall light to blink out; I could hear the filaments pop.

“What was that noise?”, she asked.

My reply?

“You just made the light go out! Go away Chloe, you’re not the boss of the lights around here!”

Implying what? That I’m the “boss of the lights“?

Definitely need a break, if I take to speaking like I’m no older than she is. I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday. I’m thankful it’s a long weekend. I’ll be even more thankful if I manage to sneak away for an hour or two and breathe air that hasn’t been recirculated by a two year old.

I hope your week has been better than mine. I hope your weekend’s air is fresh and free of strife and Goldfish particles.

I hope I can find a light bulb to replace the one Chloe just blew out. I guess that does make me the Boss of the Lights.