Today, Ellensburg is experiencing a classic local weather phenomenon: the fake-out. Through my dining room window the sunbeams turn to trapezoidal slats. The hills are less snowy, but the trees are still bare. (The girls keep asking me when the leaves will grow back.) Our mangy yorkie, in desperate need of a groom, stares longingly out the window. When I let him out, I discover the truth behind it all. Wind. The swaying of bare tree branches should have been my first clue, but the allure of a magnificent day sucked me right in. It is always windy here.
I sit and drink my tea, reflecting on my weekend so far. Have I done all my chores? Have I choreographed enough for Wednesday? Am I being too idle? Have I enjoyed my kids? What’s for dinner? What if I totally fail in life? I wonder how many people ask these questions daily. I certainly do. After a fully productive workday at the dance studio yesterday, I still sat up late, an anxiety ridden insomniac, hoping I’m doing a good enough job at life. WHY?
I finally fell asleep after streaming two episodes of Masterpiece Classics Downtown Abbey.
This morning is a new day. A chance to just be here and now. The girls and I make breakfast, oatmeal with almond butter and maple syrup. We talk about our day. Summer reminds me, “Mommy, you need to make your ‘ta-dooo’ list for today.” I take a deep breath and shake my head. I let the girls know the only thing we are going ta-do today is relax, play, and go see a movie with some friends.
I sit them on my lap and we rock to Frances England's "You and Me"....
There is so much to enjoy and so little to worry about. We're working on it.
04 March 2012
02 March 2012
It's Time to Get New Jeans
From my bedroom windows I watch the sky turn into a cloudy morning grey just above snow capped, sagebrush hills. I linger under my blankets while my husband feeds our girls breakfast and takes Summer to kindergarten. Usually this is my job, but I somehow finagled my way out of it last night. I manage to get out of bed, shower, and put on make-up (a bi-weekly occurrence at best).
Out in the living room, Jordan is dressed already, wearing the same pink dress she wore yesterday. “It’s still clean mommy. See.” She holds the dress out. Not clean, but oh well. I’m wearing the same jeans I’ve worn for the last 3 days. By some miracle, nothing has spilled on them. Today will surely be the day.
“Jordan, get shoes on. We’re going to the bank,” I say. The following events ensue:
an “I want daddy” tantrum
my longing for a cup of coffee and breakfast
threats
tears
a dum-dum bribe
success
Somehow the blue-eyed dear scores 2 dum-dums from the bank teller (sucker). Bank teller lady surely would not have given her two had she seen this morning’s surly demeanor. Jordan gets her treats, but I still needed my coffee. We walk to Dakota Café.
Dakota Café during the mid-morning work hours is typically filled with retirees drinking coffee and eating scones. The walls portray the artwork of local western photographer, Molly Morrow. Horses, elk, white tail deer, sagebrush, broken fences, weathered cowboy hats and boots… you get the picture. We sit at a table adjacent to a group of University retirees. They smile at Jordan and try to get her to speak. I chat with a few of the ladies for a while, refill my coffee (a bad move I later discover), and head home.
Driving home I regret not charging my iPod. There is nothing good on the radio. This is one of the instances I find myself envious of city life: better radio stations. At least my drive home is only about 8 minutes, with little traffic and very cooperative stoplights.
I contemplate making cookies with the kids this afternoon. Too bad the only place to buy dairy-free chocolate chips in town has them priced at over $10/pound. I make a meal plan for the week that includes chocolate chip cookies; we’ll just take the $10 hit.
As I write this blog I think, “My life is quiet, quite boring. But I kinda like it.”
P.S. The jeans have to get washed today. I see a coffee spill, although I’m not entirely sure how it got there.
Out in the living room, Jordan is dressed already, wearing the same pink dress she wore yesterday. “It’s still clean mommy. See.” She holds the dress out. Not clean, but oh well. I’m wearing the same jeans I’ve worn for the last 3 days. By some miracle, nothing has spilled on them. Today will surely be the day.
“Jordan, get shoes on. We’re going to the bank,” I say. The following events ensue:
an “I want daddy” tantrum
my longing for a cup of coffee and breakfast
threats
tears
a dum-dum bribe
success
Somehow the blue-eyed dear scores 2 dum-dums from the bank teller (sucker). Bank teller lady surely would not have given her two had she seen this morning’s surly demeanor. Jordan gets her treats, but I still needed my coffee. We walk to Dakota Café.
Dakota Café during the mid-morning work hours is typically filled with retirees drinking coffee and eating scones. The walls portray the artwork of local western photographer, Molly Morrow. Horses, elk, white tail deer, sagebrush, broken fences, weathered cowboy hats and boots… you get the picture. We sit at a table adjacent to a group of University retirees. They smile at Jordan and try to get her to speak. I chat with a few of the ladies for a while, refill my coffee (a bad move I later discover), and head home.
Driving home I regret not charging my iPod. There is nothing good on the radio. This is one of the instances I find myself envious of city life: better radio stations. At least my drive home is only about 8 minutes, with little traffic and very cooperative stoplights.
I contemplate making cookies with the kids this afternoon. Too bad the only place to buy dairy-free chocolate chips in town has them priced at over $10/pound. I make a meal plan for the week that includes chocolate chip cookies; we’ll just take the $10 hit.
As I write this blog I think, “My life is quiet, quite boring. But I kinda like it.”
P.S. The jeans have to get washed today. I see a coffee spill, although I’m not entirely sure how it got there.
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