Life has gone to light speed as we finish another school year, and the plans for my in-laws’ 50th wedding anniversary come together. The party – hosted by Todd and me (mostly me doing the planning; he’s working on the honey-do list) and being held at our house – is in exactly 9 days, 5 hours, and 41 minutes. I think we’ve finally finalized the guest list, the tent and table rentals, and food. The backyard is almost ready. Now I’m worried that the forecast is calling for rain and, while we have side walls on the tent, the grass is still going to be wet from Friday’s expected rainfall. I just saw this forecast this morning, and it – in conjunction with my third cup of coffee – is doing a bang-up job on my anxiety levels.
Between working a handful of catering events and writing grant applications, running to and from two different schools, blitzing the house for 80 guests in less than two weeks, and the usual six visits to the grocery store, I’m trying not to feel stressed out. And then there’s the laundry, which apparently didn’t get the memo that I’m BUSY. I’ve driven the kids back and forth to their dad’s house – which – for the record, threatens to turn my entire digestive system inside out every time and before you ask – apparently there’s a lot of disturbed people out there because counselors are hard to pin down quickly. I have an appointment, and am looking forward to some unbiased advice on how to conduct myself with serenity and grace just short of drooling in a corner and without stabbing someone with a spoon.
Meanwhile, back in school…. The kids are careening toward their last day with a zeal that should be reserved only for parents on the last day of summer vacation. Opac will be busy with workouts designed to run parents ragged all summer in preparation for the highly coveted starting season, and Veruca? Well, Veruca will be busy climbing up my ass like an impatient, passive-aggressive passenger on the Love Boat. I do not look forward to this. I am definitely not nearly as perky as Julie (sorry to the young folks who don’t know who Julie is).
It is a season of milestones. This year Opac finishes his first year of high school, Veruca finishes her last of elementary, I celebrate 5 years of emancipation from tyranny and 4 joyous years of marriage to my first love, the restaurant celebrates 28 “improbable” years in business, and Todd’s parents mark 50 years of marriage. FIFTY years. Not many people can say that today. It’s amazing and wonderful.
My weekly milestones – because we should all celebrate the little things, like drinking half a bottle of scotch and waking up without a hangover (which – for the record – I did NOT do) – I found shoes to wear to the party that with my discounts only cost me $30, ran/walked/jogged 4.5 miles yesterday, performed a blitzkrieg on the bathroom formerly used by Neph, planted two more plants in the gardens, quit drinking and lost 4 pounds and didn’t hurt or maim anybody, and – most importantly – wrote my Piece to he-who-needs-to-shut-the-hell-up.