Third Person Thursday

Last Thursday:

Alarm: 12:45 AM.  She woke up and put her shepherds pie in the microwave and slept on the couch while she waited the 8 minutes and 30 seconds for it to cook.

When it finished, she let it cool and started with a protein-packed banana chocolate chip muffin, finished with the shepherds pie.  She got a little distracted with the family blogs nominated for Homie Awards and then retreated back to bed. At 3 she woke up with heartburn of course and finished the night sleeping on the couch–she learned from the epic virus that sleeping sitting up happens much more easily on the couch.

She commuted in heavy train traffic, no one offered her a seat, and she felt a little tipsy just for a moment but willed herself out of fainting.

By 9:15 AM she was walking into the midwife office and had her fasting blood taken.  Two pokes.  Most blood-taking experiences involve a lot of looking, touching and inquisitive looks— “Where exactly are your veins M’aam?”

She then drank the orange drink in about 15 seconds and waited for an hour.  After the second blood sample was taken she went through the customary appointment items of business: weight, belly, heartbeat…yadda yadda.  She waited one more hour and this time got stuck in the hand.  After fielding a phone call from a fellow parent (her third in a week), she felt a bit stressed and exhausted by the classroom drama starting to crop up (NONE of her making…grrr…).

As she walked away in pursuit of food, (she hadn’t eaten since 1 AM), she tripped on a curb and her left breast broke her fall on an iron gate.  It hurt a lot.  After a sandwich, she brushed her pinky nail up between her teeth to dislodge some spinach and out popped her front tooth.  This was when she ALMOST cried, but instead thanked the universe that she actually had a few hours to do something about it before the afternoon routine began.

20 minutes later, she walked into the dentist office and her doctor had just enough time to glue her tooth back in before catching his flight. She thanked her lucky stars that it was BANANA cupcake day at Sprinkles and that Sprinkles was one block away from Bloomingdales (where she stopped to get Lolly some required BLACK clothing for a Friday concert), which was one block from her dentist.

Feeling revived, she picked up the children for the schleppiest day of the week.  They commuted to the most inconvenient spot in town with between them: 3 backpacks, 2 instruments, 2 shopping bags (sprinkles, bloomies) and a small bag of cinnamon & sugar apple cider donuts they always pick up at Thursday’s farmers market.

On the last leg of their trip, a man (Phoebe insists it was a woman)…a mannish woman tried to get her attention: “Miss! Miss!”  She expected a seat to be offered to her (finally), then this: “Are you having a boy or a girl?”

What she wanted to say: “None of your business.”

What she said instead: Pause.  “It’s a girl.”

The mannish woman’s friend: “Why are you asking her that? Why don’t you ask her if she wants your seat?”

Mannish Woman: “Oh…I wasn’t even thinking of that….”.pause…..”..Do you want my seat?”

She replied: “No thanks, I’m just going one stop.”

What she thought: classic.  and…..   you smell. (true)

Jason was meant to meet them and the front desk peops never told him where to go, so though he arrived 10 minutes early, he was 20 minutes late for the appointment and was ticked.

As they were leaving, Lolly made friends with a therapy dog.  Therapy dogs are the WORST kind of dogs for one’s dog-loving daughter to encounter, here’s why: Little adorable dachshund Lucy dog goes up to Lolly, gently kisses her cheek with a tongue kiss and then rolls over and looks at her.  Lolly just rubs and rubs and rubs that belly and then begs for a dog JUST LIKE THAT ONE for the next 3 blocks.

She decide to stuff her face with pizza (Lolly’s too).  Lolly started coughing…the same way her big sister’s 3-days-out-of-school virus started the week before…..oi.

At home the practicing went exceptionally well considering the late hour and the long long day.  When it was time to retire a bit early because her friends were coming over to yarn bomb the rocking chair, the girls melted down because they were not invited to participate.  She gave in and let them stay up an hour past bedtime.

Thankfully the yarnbombing was great fun and a huge success, and quickly washed away all the petty NYC trials of the day.


4 responses to “Third Person Thursday

  1. Helen Knowles

    How I’ve missed TPT – I’m ready to go back to bed after reading about your day. Please bring back TPT on a regular basis; it’s great reading.

    • TPT diminishing is a GOOD THING, that means there is less stress!!! Or I handle it better! But, sometimes I just have a TPT day!!! Probably there will be more with a new baby!

  2. kristy- your mannish woman story is hilarious!! i started cracking up. and Phoebe insisting it was a woman is SO funny. i haven’t commented in forever (computer out), but could still keep up w/your escapades!

  3. What an exhausting day for you! Have a button made that says, “So kind of you to give me your seat”.

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