Backtracking

Yesterday I was almost early for breakfast with friends. I say, "almost," because I stopped the car to add a few songs to a play list. (New Car plays my iTunes through the speaker. This is brilliant. Maybe even better than airbags because I use it more. That opinion will probably be reversed if I ever do have occasion to use those air bags. Anywho.) After adding to that playlist, I looked up to discover it had somehow been a half hour. And I was now late.
Since this is not really a new thing, the friends were not shocked. They were very gracious about my tardiness. No one pointed out how incredibly inconsiderate it is to be late. We had a lovely breakfast, and then they headed off to work and physical therapy while I walked down to the Hallmark store to pick up cards for the April birthdays and anniversaries. My "Cope" and "Encouragement" cards were also depleted, so there was a desire to re-stock the Sucks-to-be-You stationery. Armed with the calendar that lives in my phone, it was a relatively quick shopping trip.
With a little time to spare, I made a call to my Dad to see how a doctor's appointment had gone the day before while heading over to the market for produce. The call was short, but the shopping was excellent. Blueberries for $.88. (Be still my heart...) A rainbow of peppers on sale. Oooh, and Pink Lady apples... The pineapple smells yummy. All sorts of good things made it to the check out to be hauled out to the car.
Except that my newly awesome play list didn't kick in... and my phone was nowhere to be found even though I knew I had it since the conversation with my Dad ended after I walked into the market. Back in the store, retracing the path back through the check stand produced nothing. Wandering through the produce trying to remember if I used both hands to inspect the pineapple or pick through the blueberries produced more nothing. Finally, the workers putting out still more fruit and vegetables asked if I needed help. One headed off to see if a phone had been turned in while the other explained to me how to use the GPS tracking feature to find my missing piece of technology. Fortunately, the explanation was short-lived since someone had in fact turned in my phone.
Back at the car, I found a host of messages and missed calls. Not only had I left my phone somewhere in the market, but my reusable coffee cup was still at the Hallmark store. (This is the real reason why I have a reward card there... it's listed under my phone number.) The Hallmark ladies had been trying to call so I could return for my cup of now cold coffee. Backtracking seemed to be the order of the day.
It was likely nothing short of a miracle that I managed to remember the way home, though "Where Is My Mind," (added during that little pre-breakfast stop) was an entirely appropriate song to have playing along the way.

Drip

Don't cry over spilled milk. Really? That saying fails to take into account the extensive splatter pattern of a full 8 oz. cup of milk escaping the hand of a child to bounce off the floor. "So-and-so spilled milk, but she's cleaning it up..." is not what a mom wants to hear first thing in the morning- especially prior to the consumption of coffee. This is a fairly regular occurrence, and that regularity makes each subsequent spill seem worse than the last.
Downstairs, the child in question was miserably attempting to sop up milk dripping from cabinets and appliances as well as pooled around her on the tile. In one of those moments guaranteed to garner Mother of the Year, I snapped at her to let me take care of the mess. Milk was everywhere. She stood aside with an expression the mister says would have been appropriate at the scene of someone who had killed off a beloved grandmother by misadventure.
Fifteen minutes later the milk was off of every surface visibly affected, and others were wiped down just-in-case, because milk dries to the consistency of shellac. By that time, we needed to hit the carpool lane. Skater Girl accepted help getting into a raincoat and covering a diorama (due yesterday) in a plastic bag to protect it as a sign of parental remorse. We headed out into the rainy morning, and made it to the drop off just before traffic began to line up. She seemed cheerier after receiving an, "I love you! Have a better day!" just before exiting the car to make a run for the school.
On the drive home, the possibilities for avoiding more incidents like this one without depriving a growing child of her daily dairy intake occupied my thoughts. I wonder if she's too old for a sippy cup? After all, her mama's afflicted by the same tendency to spill. Except that my Super Power typically manifests itself with coffee. (Thankfully, I drink it black which is easier to clean up than that doctored with milk or sweeteners.) As a result, reusable ceramic coffee cups with silicone lids have become all the rage at our house. While I can still spill despite the lids, the mess has been greatly minimized. Yes, sippy cups just might be the answer if such things can be found in patterns not suited to the toddler set.

Occupy

Next week, there is no evening Skate School while the public schools are on hiatus for Spring Break. The rink has an alternative for the skaters, though. Each skate school student is slated for four complimentary tickets to the hockey game. Our family has never attended a game, but it might be fun to go next week. The family can go at no charge, and we can invite Perfect along for a greatly discounted rate, too. $12 for a night's entertainment for five people is a pretty good bargain. If the kids enjoy the game, Pleasant Suburban Elementary PTA has discounted seats reserved for another game in a couple of weeks, so there's the possibility of a follow-up, too.
The forecast threatens rain for a portion of Spring Break. That would be less disappointing if not for a string of days in the 70's and 80's that raised hopes for continued lovely (if not quite seasonal) weather while school is on a break. (Then again, we still need the rain.) At least there's daytime skate camp for one of the lovies, and that won't be affected by wet weather. There's likely to be more of a challenge to Middle Child's plans since she's largely one to be out walking, running, or skateboarding through the neighborhood with friends or Perfect. Ah, well, maybe the big kids will be up for movies, baking, or other indoor plans in addition to their planned outings to the skating rink and mall.

Mileage

This weekend marked a couple of post-op milestones. The recovery period from the knee replacements turned out to be a bit more that the few weeks that were scheduled out in the calendar between July and August. After 7 (and a half) months, the mister and I passed the turn we usually take on our one mile walks. In continuing onward, we committed to two miles. The kids who run and skate many miles daily were not particularly impressed, but it was a big deal to the grown-ups at least. With no ill affects from Saturday's lap, the mister and I knocked out two on Sunday.
Not only did the weekend signal the reinstatement of a reasonable exercise, but another, less important, little goody was added to the list of new Can-Do items. Sunday morning, a pair of high-heeled boots that had been relegated to the give-away pile were back in circulation. Along with the heels, out of the recesses of the closet came a pair of extra-long, dark-washed, makes-me-look-skinny jeans. (Okay, not skinny so much as thinner. It's still a win.) The wardrobe change was as unexpected as the walking distance, but almost as good.
There are still a few more unresolved issues post-operatively speaking. Skater Girl tries to refrain (She's a big fan of, "If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all.") from commentary, but her face still says, "Ewwww!" whenever she happens to see my legs bared by shorts or a skirt. I'm also aware of the less-than-stellar appearance of those four-inch seams running up and down each knee. And the accompanying scars above and below from the robotic apparatus being, um, temporarily attached during the course of the procedure. (Ew.) And the ones on the sides from a couple of later minor procedures related to complications. Okay, the kid's right. Those new knees are ugly as sin, but maybe not so much when encased in those might-as-well-be-skinny jeans.

Plans

Middle Child is going to run next year, but she's only planning on Cross Country. Generally, the kid loves to run. She's just determined to avoid running in circles around a track over and over again. There's a certain relief in knowing that she's decided to continue on in her sport. That relief is largely due to the reality that she simply does not run outside of scheduled practices and team runs- probably a good thing since there seem to be an excess of creepy guys who honk and yell icky comments at the girls. There's something to be said for staying in a group...
Laura and her sweet family are in for an extended visit. There's much Reach Out Honduras business to be attended to during their stay including the 2nd Annual Golf Tournament planned for April in the Dallas suburbs and raising support for the various aspects of the ministry. Knowing of the family's many commitments there was no expectation of seeing them before next week. Imagine the thrill of opening an early morning e-mail Sunday to find that Laura and the younger children would be attending service at our church. Definitely the best sort of surprise for our family, and even more so for Artist (who was part of last summer's trip to Puerto Lempira) who had no idea she who would be found in the halls of the church.
Spring Break is just around the corner, and it cannot arrive soon enough. Our girls + Perfect are looking forward to meeting Laura's kids at the ice rink for an afternoon open skate. It will also give Laura a chance to meet Perfect. And for Perfect to meet this family with a mission precious to our household. Middle Child approves of the plan because she wants to spend time with our friends, but she also has next week earmarked for quality time with Perfect.
Speaking of family, we're still waiting for the Boy's disposition to be sorted out. There's always red tape in school transfers, but this one has been especially complicated. There's been an awful lot of back and forth with the Powers That Be, but no real progress. The Boy is frustrated, but unusually patient for a sixteen year old. His mama is still hoping for the increasingly unlikely homecoming before his upcoming birthday. We've missed family celebrations with him for 14, 15, 16, and it's looking like 17 is slipping away as the weeks drag on without resolution. If you're the praying sort, please keep our family's latest attempt at being reunited in your prayers.