Coffee Date
If I had you over for a coffee date, I'd probably invite you around 10AM...if that worked for you... And if all the parenting stars aligned, you'd arrive {and softly knock on the front door} right after Caris went down for her morning nap.
If you came this week it'd be too warm to sit outside by 10AM. I'd mentally tell myself, "Listen to Kent when he makes his argument for a house with a pool!" I'd offer you coffee, tea or water. If I'm on top of my game, I'd have {store bought} sweet tea too and maybe some homemade bread- pumpkin? banana? zucchini?
I'd triple check the coffee mug to make sure my lame & lazy dishwasher did its job- before handing you your drink.
I would drink water, if I didn't know you that well.
I would drink hot tea, slowly slurping it, if I knew you.
You would probably ask me about Florida, as most people kindly do. Are you settling in? Have you gotten involved? How does Kent like his job?
Surface level I'd tell you, "Yeah, we're adjusting. Settling in slowly". I'd say that yesterday was a good Sunday. And if you read my blog, you might be surprised, but it was. If you dug a little deeper and looked me straight in the eyes, I'd explain that usually Sundays are the hardest- a reminder that everyone already has their group of friends and their husband by their side- chatting and laughing. My eyes might get a little watery.
To avoid crying, I'd launch into a story and tell you about the church lady that asked one question too many a few Sundays ago- how I started crying right then and there at the church brunch.
We'd laugh about it, because I can now. I'd say, "I know, RIGHT??"
We would talk about Kent's job as the Youth Director. About how much he loves it and about how I'm trying to keep my big, fat mouth shut at least 75% of the time- to listen and not give {so much} advice. I'd tell you that he's usually gone a handful of nights each week which can make the 5-7 PM parenting time slot less than fun.
Of course a coffee date wouldn't be complete without talking about Peggy Sue.
How many random nicknames can a child have?
You might say that she looks like me- I'd agree. You might say she's just so adorable- I'd agree, most of the time. I would rattle off a few recent developments- how she's so close to walking, how she doesn't cry in the church nursery anymore and how much she loves grapes. Talking about her would make me miss her (pathetic, I know) and I'd want to hug her tiny little self.
And before we knew it, we would have talked for at least an hour and Little Miss would be stirring in her crib.
Until next time!
If you came this week it'd be too warm to sit outside by 10AM. I'd mentally tell myself, "Listen to Kent when he makes his argument for a house with a pool!" I'd offer you coffee, tea or water. If I'm on top of my game, I'd have {store bought} sweet tea too and maybe some homemade bread- pumpkin? banana? zucchini?
I'd triple check the coffee mug to make sure my lame & lazy dishwasher did its job- before handing you your drink.
I would drink water, if I didn't know you that well.
I would drink hot tea, slowly slurping it, if I knew you.
You would probably ask me about Florida, as most people kindly do. Are you settling in? Have you gotten involved? How does Kent like his job?
Surface level I'd tell you, "Yeah, we're adjusting. Settling in slowly". I'd say that yesterday was a good Sunday. And if you read my blog, you might be surprised, but it was. If you dug a little deeper and looked me straight in the eyes, I'd explain that usually Sundays are the hardest- a reminder that everyone already has their group of friends and their husband by their side- chatting and laughing. My eyes might get a little watery.
To avoid crying, I'd launch into a story and tell you about the church lady that asked one question too many a few Sundays ago- how I started crying right then and there at the church brunch.
We'd laugh about it, because I can now. I'd say, "I know, RIGHT??"
We would talk about Kent's job as the Youth Director. About how much he loves it and about how I'm trying to keep my big, fat mouth shut at least 75% of the time- to listen and not give {so much} advice. I'd tell you that he's usually gone a handful of nights each week which can make the 5-7 PM parenting time slot less than fun.
Of course a coffee date wouldn't be complete without talking about Peggy Sue.
How many random nicknames can a child have?
You might say that she looks like me- I'd agree. You might say she's just so adorable- I'd agree, most of the time. I would rattle off a few recent developments- how she's so close to walking, how she doesn't cry in the church nursery anymore and how much she loves grapes. Talking about her would make me miss her (pathetic, I know) and I'd want to hug her tiny little self.
And before we knew it, we would have talked for at least an hour and Little Miss would be stirring in her crib.
Until next time!
CaRis wuz herE ;)
Found Mr. Suits' gadgets lined up like this after work one day. Precious. And quirky.
The Forgotten Pears
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