What gives?

 
Something’s wrong. It’s 8:17 a.m. and Merrick hasn’t been awake for the past 3 hours. I thought about going in to check on him, but I know doing so much will wake him up the instant I put my hand on that doorknob. So, I wait. And I like it.
 
This weekend is off to a great start. We’re expecting 70 degrees of glorious sunny weather today; tomorrow it’s supposed to snow. But right now, it’s Friday, the sun is shining (The tank is clean!), and Caleb will be home tonight. Our spring break has been fairly low-key. Cheyenne’s gone to a sleepover or two, Mia’s had some friends over to play ball, and Merrick…has enjoyed tagging around after his sisters while they’ve been home. I went running twice this week, for the first time since September. I’m having trouble walking today. (So scrumptrulescent, I can barely move).
 
I thought about stretching my legs out by strolling around the mall–I have got to find me a shirt that doesn’t have grody baby stains all over it before next weekend. Cheyenne has told me everything I pick out is way too "mom". And looking at my closet, she would be right. I wanted to enlist her help in my quest for the perfect bachelorette-weekend ensemble, but my lameness greatly disgusts her and she will have no part of it. I might just have to ask my much cooler, more fashionable sisters to lend me something suitable once I get in town.
 
Come to think of it, that sounds a whole lot funner than taking the kids out shopping. Merrick refuses to cooperate whenever I take him out in public, and will either scream his head off in the stroller, or run around stores like a maniac. Mia loses the capability to use her legs the second she steps foot in the mall and insists that I carry her everywhere because she’s "been walking FOREVER" and her feet are "SO TIRED". Cheyenne just skulks around 9 feet behind me, and every now and then she will semi-acknowledge us with a look that says "Why couldn’t I have been born into another family?"
 
I think I’ll just take them to the park instead. The little kids can play, Merrick can scream his head off and it won’t matter. Mia will miraculously be able to run at the speed of light for a full hour without tiring out her tender feet. And Cheyenne can sit on a bench, read a book, and pretend not to know who we are.
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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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