As I sit down to write this I listen to Maddie running around behind me, playing "dollies". She has an Ariel and a Belle doll who seem to fight constantly, while she plays referee and doles out time-outs like candy - is this a foreshadowing of my future?
Katie slumbers upstairs in her crib - I listen to her breathing over the monitor (I make snorers) - the steady white noise of it punctuated every little while with a sleepy cry. I look up and listen to see if the cries will turn into anything - they don't (this time) and she falls back to sleep. Maddie stops playing long enough to tell me, "I don't think Katie's awake yet Mommy."
I am doing errands (well... and blogging - but "documenting our lives" as I like to call it is sort of an errand too) - banking, grocery lists, checking emails. My life is on my laptop. And usually around 5pm it can be found open on my kitchen counter, with either a recipe site or my Google Reader up. I read while I cook - dangerous stuff, especially for an accident-prone cook.
In my head a running list of "to-do's" cycle through. I ponder the dining room table, piled high with stuff. Stocking stuffers and Christmas decorations haphazardly hidden in reusable bags from my craft show shopping last weekend. Halloween decorations and costume makeup that needs to be put away in the basement to be used again next year. More Rubbermaid bins gets added to my shopping list.
Maddie pushes her kitchen stool over the counter where her Halloween candy bag is sitting. She thinks it's funny to "sneak" candy and I don't have the heart to tell her that she's not really "sneaking" if she's doing it while I'm standing right here. This is her fourth piece of candy since she woke up from her nap - I know I'm going to pay for it tonight when she experiences the sugar crash but I'm also just wanting her to blow through it as quickly as possible, so it's finally gone.
Dinner tonight will consist of reheated leftovers. A lazy mom's dinner, but when the Hubs is at a work event until 8:30 I look for short-cuts to survive the single-parent-stress. Maddie pushes her stool over to "help" me dole out the servings and rice goes everywhere. It's times like these I wish for a dog.