Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The Sound of Silence

My children are gone. They are at my mother-in-law's house for FOUR days. Count 'em with me - one, two, three, FOUR. It's my 10-year wedding anniversary this weekend, and she's taken the munchkins off my hands so I can get my hair done and enjoy a peaceful, long, glorious weekend and remember what life was like 10 years ago when I was all of 18 years old and had a flat stomach and time on my hands. One day you'll have to make me tell you the wedding story. It's insane. Truly.

So because my children are gone for four days, I am sitting here in my living room with three sleeping cats and two sleeping dogs and there are no toys being tossed around and no fights that need to be broken up. The only sounds I hear are the fan of my computer and the train whistle from across the way. There is an entire cat's worth of fur on the carpet because I have been refusing to vacuum until the children are gone, and now that they're gone, I'm not inclined to move.

I have, however, gone shopping. I started at Ross. I bought three tank tops - yellow, green, and white/blue - and a white skirt (skirt!) and a pair of Tommy Hilfiger capri pants because I love Tommy. He does good things for my figer... I mean, figure. And then... and this is the kicker... I went to the $1 jewelry shop and ACCESSORIZED. Those of you who know me well might die upon reading this. I should have put in a disclaimer asking you to sit down and check your pacemakers first. Most of the time my 'accessories' include my wedding ring(s), a waterproof IronMan watch from Wal-Mart, and whatever pair of fake pearl or cubic zirconia earrings happen to be in one set of the holes in my ears (my ears are pierced twice). I don't use purses. I don't shop. So accessories just. Don't. Happen.


I bought three necklace/earring sets that actually match what I bought. And I had left the tank tops in the car while I did the purchasing. I impressed myself.

And now I'm going to copy some recipes out of some cookbooks that I'm getting rid of (not keeping cookbooks that only have one or two good recipes) and freeze some blueberries and generally sit on my expansive derriere and enjoy the silence.

Though come bedtime, I'll miss tucking my babies in. There's a price to be paid for everything.

But when I'm sitting at Starbucks tomorrow morning and don't have to buy a giant bottle of juice and a scone for a boy who is done and bored and starving again 30 seconds later, that price will be oh, so, wonderfully worth it.

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