This is the most exciting thing happening today. We had a play date, we organized rooms, we hung and put away the laundry (line drying week one, complete!). All trumped by this emerging romaine, regenerative darling that it is.
I read an article entitled “Grow groceries from garbage” or something equally enticing a few years ago. The carrots failed me, the potatoes did too. But celery, lettuce and onions continue to amaze me. I just forget to do it until I buy yet another bunch of something. However, I am in a place of trying my best, using past failures as nothing less than a springboard to propel me forward. So the lettuce sees a revival! As does my second attempt at a play date this week.
The first went smoothly by way of a well behaved guest and finally having Big Sister’s best friend from school over to her house. I had forgotten what a “get” it is to have your pal over to see where you live. The only obstacle, and stop me if you know where this is going, was me.
Although the friend’s mom and I have volunteered together for our daughters’ class last year and texted several times expressing the desire to get the kids together outside of school, we hadn’t actually done so. With a little more than three weeks left on the summer clock I buckled down, hammering out a date and time, ish…
The plans were kind of vague, she would be coming over but I wasn’t sure if mom was staying or of her little brother would be coming as well. We texted back and forth trying to pick an exact time when I offered to host her solo, in the most awkward way ever. I called her (the mom) and started off like a normal person. “Hey, no pressure, but you are more than welcome to drop her off if you have errands to run or something”, I started. “I mean, you don’t have to stay here, you can leave her with me, it’s just me here but I’m pretty qualified” (oh, no). “My husband is better in an emergency but I don’t anticipate any major bloodshed” (stop talking). “Ha, ha, she can even spend the night if you want” (back on track). “He is at work tonight so he won’t be here, not that he is a creep or anything” (Dear Lord). “That sounds wrong, ha ha, you know what I mean” (no she doesn’t and you made him sound like a creep simply because you pointed out that he wasn’t a creep, you creepy creep!). This would have been a great time to stop talking but I’m incapable of that when I get to this point (by this point I mean a beat of silence). So I continued by pointing out something along the lines of how sometimes when my husband works the kids sleep in my bed and we call it “hotel night” (true story) but of course I wouldn’t have all the kids in my bed because they could do hotel night in one of the kids rooms, ha ha. Let that sink in. I “reassured” someone I have never hung out with socially that I wouldn’t suggest her child share a family bed. (Why? WHYYYYYYYYYY?!).
She explained that her daughter hadn’t spent the night out and could come over for a play date and even stay for dinner but she would be by to pick her up before bedtime. When she came to drop her daughter off I invited her in, with the ultra reassuring “you can totally come in, I get it if you want to make sure I am not a hoarder with eleven cats”.
Her daughter stayed for hours, got along great with both kids and had impeccable manners. Mom came to pick her up and we ended up talking for almost two hours before they left, wherein I explained that I thought about how weird I must have sounded earlier. She was totally a good sport and laughed it all off, saying that their family was going on vacation in just a few days and when they came home we would plan for a sleepover. The second playdate this week went smoother. Partly because I knew the other mom better and had met up more than once outside of school to get the kids together.
As the day came to a close, the girls and I sat down to dinner, tired from a long day where we got a lot done. I couldn’t help but think, here we are, watching lettuce grow, like normal people. No hoarding or cats involved. As I write this they are snoozing on either side of me; hotel night lives on, family members only.