Now that school is back in session, I can return to the strict and comfortable order of the week. From the morning crush of fixing breakfasts and lunches and making sure we’re out the door by 8 to the necessary order of the days and then picking the boy up at 3, doing homework, fixing supper and
tieing tying (?) y’know…finishing up the loose ends of the day’s work. Bliss. I absolutely love this.
It is good to be forced to be dressed by 8. During the summer I slop around in the bathrobe until I feel like dressing, which might be never. The week before school starts I will whine about having to get dressed, since it could have been several days since doing so. Once, I was whining at church about it, and someone said “you don’t have to get out of your car to drop him off, so don’t get dressed.” but that would inevitably be the day one of the pastors decides to walk upand have a chat through the car window, and my bathrobe would never pass as a casual dress, and I’m too…shall we say…Buxom to be comfortable having a braless conversation with Pastor Rowe. Not that he’d do anything inappropriate, far from it, but Presbyterian Sensibilities prevent comfort with public bralessness. Thus, it is imperative that I be fully dressed and groomed* by 8am. At least the era of curlers in the hair is past.
Evenings take on a pleasant and businesslike
rthm rthymrhythm (I never get that word right the first time, and me a trained musician). Arrive home, snack, homework, chores, dinner,convivial conversation, bedtime. Lather, rinse, repeat until Friday night. Friday Night is Fun Night: a tasty meal involving tacos or hamburgers or pizza, a good movie, getting to stay up late and play trashy video games Tipper Gore would disapprove of, that sort of thing.
*groomed is defined as “fully dressed and no english muffin goo stuck between my teeth” I do not wear makeup or have a high maintenance haircut. When I see these mothers drop their kids at school and they’re all perfect looking and ready for the office I wonder if they have to get up at 4am to get ready, because I would. Especially the ones with long hair. There’s this one mother who always looks like she stepped out of a magazine…and while I am sure she’s a perfectly nice woman, she is intimidating as hell.