I’m turning 37 this week. I started the festivities Friday because I don’t mess around when it comes to celebrating my birthday. Friday I took myself shopping at Athleta with a gift card my sweet sister gave me. I got these leggings in black and this dress in chianti. Saturday afternoon, Dan and my dear friend conspired to take me out for a surprise pedicure at this lovely place. Saturday night Dan and I took the bus downtown and stopped at the Boulder Bookstore before our dinner reservation, where I selected Anita Diamant’s new(ish) paperback. We went to dinner at Wild Standard. The food was incredible. The drinks were sublime. The company was superb.
As I approach my 37th birthday, I have so much to be grateful for. No one has time to read about all of that in one blog post. Also, I’m only up to number 20ish right now, so I am breaking it down into installments. Here’s the first.
Sweet Pea is in preschool four days a week from 7:55 to 10:40. The break it allows me is short, yet amazing. She eats a full hot lunch there at 10am and then she eats another lunch with me around noon and invariably asks for seconds. This is also amazing. Also, Sweet Pea is learning letters, numbers, and how to function in society, which is allegedly why she’s there in the first place.
After the preschool drop-off, Lady Bug and I continue to my gym. She goes in gym babysitting and I sit in the lobby with my laptop and bang out some words. I don’t even pretend I’m there to break a sweat.
I can’t even.
When I looked between Lady Bug’s legs, seconds after her birth, my first thought was “What!? We were going to call her Leo. I even planned my outfit for the bris. How can this be?” My second thought was, “A sister for Sweet Pea! YESSSS!”
Because if I don’t talk to her for a day or two, I feel unmoored. She’s funny and kind and she gets me. Also, she understands things like clothes and proper eyebrow styling.
She’s more of a talker than a texter or an emailer, but when she communicates via technology, she rocks the emojis like a boss. She thinks I’m great, and she knows random things, like how to clean anything, why my sink is broken, and why my three year old is being an asshole. Also, she thinks my kids are as cute as I do.
The rear doors slide open with the touch of a button. I could go on, but I don’t think I need to.
This needs no further explanation.
From our house, I can easily bike nearly anywhere I need to go. We can walk to the bus stop. I can run to the gorgeous high school track in three minutes. There’s a workout area in the basement.