there is nothing like a rainy night and clean sheets to say “let’s open a bottle of wine”.
there is nothing like my man having not shaved his face in three days.
i love the scruff, even if he’s gone gray. I think it is sexy, rugged mountain man-type, or in our case, the sleepy frazzled musician type.
So, that scruffy man, I am dreaming about because he’s playing piano up north again and will be home tomorrow. So it is me, alone, with the kids.
After school we went to a bookstore and I let them pick out a few new books. Roald Dahl’s books. Paddington Bear chapter books. And “Where the Red Fern Grows.”
Then we went to dinner.
And then, gasp…the school play.
I admit, when my kids are in fifth grade and doing the school play, I will be excited and awake and might even change my clothes for it, but honestly, going to a school play where my kids are NOT in it, it pretty much pure torture.
The happiness of my own children beside me, enjoying seeing the older kids on stage, and looking around and seeing their friends, at night, in school, in the audience, is priceless.
My rule of not drinking alone has been broken. Just one glass, it’s the bottom of the bottle J and I drank from the other night.
Holymotherofgawd, I can hardly move. And my list of to do items is still sitting here. I have sooooo much to do. SO MUCH TO DO. (hear me?)
I’m in my new pajamas bottoms from Target.
I love them.
(no, that’s not me, my stomach is not that flat)