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Saturday is a Good Day, Usually

Posted Mar 09 2013 12:00am

Saturday is usually my favorite day. It's a long one that stretches for hours and hours in both directions - I'm typically awake and vertical by 7, which seems decadent and slovenly after a week of 5:30. Or earlier.

I am able to eat breakfast and drink coffee in peace, unlike Sunday, when I'm trying to get everyone ready for church, or for school during the week. It's a day that I try to do some extra baking for the week ahead -  muffins, cookies, breads - get the wash caught up, the house organized, and spend a bit of time being good to myself.

Today I started with a parent meeting for Golf club, and then came the event I was really interested in attending - the Coffee Cupping at Whole Foods. 

 Sampling coffees, with chocolate chasers, was a great way to start the day. Even if I AM totally palate clueless.

Saturday is a Good Day, Usually

Seriously. I taste nothing woodsy, nothing citrus or cranberry or anything - I have the most clueless and unschooled palate that exists. But it was super nice to spend time sampling different coffees and espressos and learning about them - and the dark chocolate didn't hurt.

Saturday is a Good Day, Usually

Then I came home to see that my son's girlfriend, home on Spring Break, had brought me an Oreo cupcake - I am a cupcakeaholic, but they have to be GOOD ones and these are - she'd given me one once before and I loved it. Yum!

Saturday is a Good Day, Usually

Then the mail came, and I got my Celtic bracelet - just in time for the best.holiday.second.only.to.Thanksgiving - please excuse the fact that I have the wrists of a two year old.

I bought a new book and read. I downloaded new music - more on that this week - and pulled out the hand me downs for my younger girls, who are growing like nuts and suddenly needed new pants and shirt and school jumpers. When all was said and done, I filled the back of my Jeep with bags and bags of too small clothing, an additional pile of clothes for a friend with smaller girls and another for a friend with smaller sons.

I worked and worked and loved my sense of accomplishment -  What a great day! - the feeling that I was!getting!stuffs!done!, I was so rockin', I was the MASTER of my DOMAIN, watch me now! - 

when the screaming started.

Knowing that I'm quite possibly the parent of the most dramatic child ever, I delayed, even though she was screaming, Someone come help me, please, please and Ow, ow, Mommy, please!!!!!

Really, those cries usually mean someone has stepped on a rock and fallen to the ground, convinced that they shall NEVER WALK AGAIN -

But this time, those cries meant that someone short and small had gotten her arm pinched in the hinge part of the door, gotten it well and truly wedged in there (ow!) and no matter how she pulled (double ow!) it wouldn't come out and no matter how much she beat on the door it was closing (ow!) more and more (owowowoowowwwwwww)

and, well, the feeling of being good and productive and getting a lot done and what a GREAT SATURDAY it was -

well, they were gone. For both of us. Liberal applications of arnica and ice and motrin, and this is the best it looked all day - since I took this pic, it's gotten purple and black. We've done lots of cuddling, but wow.

Saturday.

Well, tomorrow is another day, right?

Saturday is a Good Day, Usually

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