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Yesterday in the late afternoon, I poured myself a glass of white wine. It wasn’t chilled, so I added a couple of ice cubes to it.
I took a sip. It was lovely!
Then Benjamin came up to me and asked if we can finally go on that bike ride we’ve been talking about.
I looked at my wine, and then at the boy, and said:
It was a lovely bike ride. Pretty far – we tried to ride the way to Sonja’s Montessori school, which normally we drive to, in order to time it. The plan is that once Benjamin finishes Kindergarten at 11:30, we could walk home together, get on the bikes (mine with the bike trailer attached), and ride out to her school and pick her up after her lunch. Then ride back…giving him (and me) a nice bit of exercise. Fall is a wonderful time for outdoor activity!
When I got back, supper was almost ready. Daddy and Sonja were working hard while Benjamin and I were absent.
I looked at my glass of wine, still sitting there on the counter, and took a sip.
It was still cold, but it was watery.
What should I do with it? Save it for cooking? Pour it down the drain?
We don’t waste wine here…so I made a decision.
I poured it into the compost.
Wonder if the worms are happy this morning, or dead.
PS My butt is sore. Note to self: buy a new bike seat.
Susan is a funny chick. I go read her blog every once in a while and she makes me giggle.
Seems she likes her cocktails. And her wine. In fact, in one of her posts she specifically said that during a 30-day thing she “did not have a single drink and gained three pounds. Apparently sitting on my ass drinking was what kept me thin”.
So what’s a girl to do? I went and made a comment, naturally. In which I said “perhaps my inclusion of cheese with my wine is what makes the pants feel tight-er”.
Turns out that Susan too likes cheese!
I raise my glass to Oklahoma City all the way from Toronto! Cheers!!
All this drinking drama may make it sound like we’re a bunch of alkies. Let me assure you nothing is further from the truth. Although there are times when the idea behind NOT pouring that second drink is not that appealing given the alternative. Say after a 4-hour car drive with a cranky toddler and a 4 year old.
I’m just sayin’.
Look. I’m a thirsty kinda gal. Ok? I drink my coffee, I drink my water, I drink my wine.
Given that I drink something all day, I tend to frequent the bathroom fairly often.
All that liquid in a tiny bladder abused by two bouncy babies while pregnant will do that to a woman.
So why is it that I can’t spend 60 seconds alone in that bathroom? WHY?
I had to pee. I glance around the house. Kids are playing together in another room, dog is fast asleep, Javadad is downstairs in the office.
A walk to the bathroom. I don’t hear the pitter patter of tiny feet or dog paws following me.
The second I pull down my pants, the first one arrives. She analyzes the situation, then drags her potty closer to me and imitates my action.
20 seconds behind her is the 3yo. “Mommy, Sonja doesn’t want to play with me anymooooreee…”
Next I hear, then see the dog. He wants out. HIS bladder is the size of a prairie province and he was out less than an hour go. Why now?
Of course the family is still incomplete. Javadad has to pick THIS moment to ask me a question. “Where did you say the newspapers are?”
I mean, I spend the LEAST amount of time in the bathroom relatively speaking to the rest of the family and I don’t get 60 seconds of peace to have a pee.
With the holidays in full swing, wine is everywhere.
There is not only this type of wine…
….or that type of wine…
….or many types of wine…
…in this house, there is a different kind of wine.
It’s more a WHINE you understand.
So today’s exercise was to find the normal voice of the 3yo. I had him commissioned to help me find it. We walked around the house calling “normal voice, where aaaarrrreee yooooouuu!” and searched high and low.
It’s nowhere to be found.
And I’m slowly edging closer and closer to a deep, dark cliff.