Three forty rolled around, and there I was. Awake. For no real reason. After a couple hours of failed attempts to cash in on just a couple more precious hours of sleep I finally gave up and appeased my grumbling tummy with some oatmeal. Then weird things started to happen. I got dressed and read the news for a little while while I waited for my mother to get ready so I could chauffeur her to work (so that I could commandeer her vehicle). I loaded up my mother and dog, and off we went. Then I came home, made sure that my brother took the trash bins to the street and declared, "Hurry! You're going to be late for school!" He jumped into the back of the minivan, solidifying my role as chauffeur, and off we went. When we arrived at the school I pulled up to the curb and shouted out the closing door, "Make good choices. Learn something."
A little later I drove my mom-mobile to meet a friend at Starbucks (where I ordered my first ever butterbeer which numbed my tongue with the massive quantity of sugar but did not deter me from patting myself on the back for that decision) and shot the breeze until it was time to do pick up. I even tried out some of my mom's soap opera and learned some jargon. I got filled in on the juicy back story and scolded my brother--in my best mom voice--for interrupting "my soaps" when he came home from school. In the evening I made the drive to after school athletics and Wal-mart (for the second time in one day).
And that was my stereotypical white picket fence adventure with my 2.5 kids and dog. Sigh. A glimpse into the future. Well probably not my future. Even when I am a mom. I don't go to Starbucks very often and soap operas just aren't really my thing (although if you changed that to... say... Doctor Who... or Psych then you might have an argument) And most of the moms I know (and many of my friends/acquaintances/peers have reached motherhood--good for them) don't bask in such luxurious relaxation. But if TV were for real (and by TV I mean nice, old TV, not reality, or aforementioned soap operas, or really most of the trash being aired these days) then this would be "the image", right? Ok I actually have no idea. I just feel like if you mix a mini van with pretty much any errand, you instantly get maternal points. Now if only I had done something Pinteresty.
I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.
A little later I drove my mom-mobile to meet a friend at Starbucks (where I ordered my first ever butterbeer which numbed my tongue with the massive quantity of sugar but did not deter me from patting myself on the back for that decision) and shot the breeze until it was time to do pick up. I even tried out some of my mom's soap opera and learned some jargon. I got filled in on the juicy back story and scolded my brother--in my best mom voice--for interrupting "my soaps" when he came home from school. In the evening I made the drive to after school athletics and Wal-mart (for the second time in one day).
And that was my stereotypical white picket fence adventure with my 2.5 kids and dog. Sigh. A glimpse into the future. Well probably not my future. Even when I am a mom. I don't go to Starbucks very often and soap operas just aren't really my thing (although if you changed that to... say... Doctor Who... or Psych then you might have an argument) And most of the moms I know (and many of my friends/acquaintances/peers have reached motherhood--good for them) don't bask in such luxurious relaxation. But if TV were for real (and by TV I mean nice, old TV, not reality, or aforementioned soap operas, or really most of the trash being aired these days) then this would be "the image", right? Ok I actually have no idea. I just feel like if you mix a mini van with pretty much any errand, you instantly get maternal points. Now if only I had done something Pinteresty.
I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.
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