An old friend, or perhaps I should say a long-time friend, called this morning.  She just moved back to town.  “We moved away because there was nothing to do here.  We moved back for precisely the same reason,” she said.  And I agreed.

I had to cut her off mid-sentence because the baby was fussing.  I should be a pro at dealing with separation anxiety by now, but it’s hard no matter how many times you do it.  Part of me does want to hold her every minute of every day, but it’s just not possible.  I do hold her a lot or strap her on and we go about our day until she falls asleep on my back and oh! I want to lie down so badly, but don’t.

Asa wants to be held, too.  (Sometimes I forget that he’s still a baby, too, in so many ways.)  As I help him climb up into my lap, I lose my grip and I’m not quick enough and he slips right off my leg and hits the floor, knocking his head on the table leg on the way down.  He cried, which is unusual for him.  And I felt bad about it, which is pretty usual for me.  Not that I feel bad all the time, but I feel bad when I cause them to stumble – literally and figuratively.

After a 10 minute snooze, she recharged enough to have her eyes open but not be fully awake.  She fussed and fussed and generally drove me a bit batty.  All day long I went click-click-stop. click-click-stop. click-click-stop. until I finally finished the photography project I was working on.  Whew!  One down, 4 to go.  (The rest can wait until tomorrow.)

Oh and guess what?  She ended up getting sick.  And I felt like a heel for being annoyed with her.

The kids had a friend over after school.  A cute, sassy little girl that always makes me laugh.  And the baby napped (again) while we played outside.  I left all the doors open because I was waiting on a package and I wanted to hear the delivery guy before he tried to ring the doorbell.  I had to sign for it, so I wanted to make sure he knew I was available.  I got the package but I am paying the price for having the doors and windows open in the midst of the Pollen Apocalypse of 2012.  Watery, itchy eyes aren’t good for editing, but gosh it was so lovely out!  Lately we just haven’t been able to stay inside!

A few weeks ago Carter left his bike behind my car and I smooshed it.  I went to the consignment sale while the big kids were at gymnastics to look for one and as I was walking into the door, I saw a boy walking out with a shiny black bike.  Too late.  Or maybe not early enough.  Either way, I didn’t get it.

I really wanted a sandwich from the new restaurant in town.  I called to place my pick up order and said that I didn’t know what the name of the sandwich was, but that I wanted the chicken sandwich with jalapeños and avocados.   “We don’t have a sandwich with jalapeños and avocados.  We have one with jalapeños and guacamole though.”  “Um……I’ll take that one.”

And when I went in to pick it up, my brother was there with his friends.  The same friends he’s had since high school.  The ones I’ve known since Little League, which – I realize – is how old my kids are now.  Oof.    I love seeing them together  and I love seeing him in his element.  He says something witty and his friend slaps at his arm like you do when something’s really funny but you didn’t expect it at all.   I reach over to grab one of his chips while I wait on my food and try to dip it into his salsa, knowing that he probably double dipped, but I was hungry.  And it was empty.  And so I ate a stale chip and laughed at something someone said and then I got our bags of food and headed home.

Dinner went smoothly with no spilled drinks and no tears.  And they hopped into the bathtub and I made sure they’re washing all the bits and pieces that need washing.  And before I finish with the big two, Marshall got the littles into bed.  I sneak in a little later to the babies rooms to say goodnight, but they are both in deep, deep sleep.  The big kids have a harder time getting to sleep.  There’s just something that seems unfair about having to be in bed before moonrise.

Marshall finishes doing some online research and moves to his chair, getting the DVR ready for the evening.  We watch two shows and then he retreats to our room and I come back to finish one more thing.  Always just one more thing.  But 5:15 this morning was a looooong time ago and I feel wilted.

Oh, but I forgot the part about Asa spraying the dogs with the wrinkle releaser.  They didn’t seem to mind.  And they are just as wrinkly as before.  But they smell nice!

And I forgot the part about Asa calling me from the other room to tell me that he’d pooped on the floor and for a split second I had a heart attack because his poop was bright red.  But then I remembered he’d eaten a red Angry Birds cupcake the day before and so I laughed and cleaned up the mess.

Also?  We’re out of Q-tips.  Which I know you aren’t supposed to use any more but we both do it anyway and we’re out and my ear itches.  A lot.