On a whole new level of respect

I had the most delightful last few days. Well, today excluded, but that's besides the point. Saw a fantastic play (despite what The Washington Post says) in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at The Studio Theatre on Friday night. This after unknowingly having dinner at a funky little joint connected to one of the best known gay clubs in town (woops!). Ah, it's good to feel like a cosmopolitan girl from time to time. Intellectual plays and hanging with the gays. Hooray!

Saturday was spent doing some fantastic damage at the Leesburg Outlets with a favorite friend and spending time at a 4 year old's birthday party (don't worry, I knew her), while Sunday was devoted to sleeping in and then hanging out with this same favorite friend and her fantastic children. I took the day off on Monday to help my friend with babysitting the youngest, while she took the oldest to kindergarten orientation.

Since when do they have kindergarten orientation, by the way?

My friend kept insisting what a great help I was being, when in all reality I need to thank her for giving me the opportunity. First of all, it gave me a whole new perspective on stay at home moms. I was fully aware that she worked hard. I just didn't realize HOW hard. Her day was non-stop. Up with the kids (anywhere from 5 am to 6:30 am), off to school with one, to the playground with the other, playing downstairs, playing outside, making lunch, fetching from school, bringing to orientation, back home, pick up daughter's friend, go to ballet, come home, dinner, bath, play, put everyone to bed. No time for herself, just constant interaction and entertaining and/or transporting while interacting and entertaining. I was beat and I didn't do half of what she did! I think it's the constant interaction that people don't realize is so very draining. I really don't know how she does it. I know the unconditional love thing helps, but still.

So it was tiring, but also incredibly therapeutic. I never realized how soothing playing in a sandbox with a 2 year old can be. Or the joy one can get from endlessly entertaining a 4 year old with a bad impression of Puss In Boots from Shrek. I think it's bad. She thinks it's fantastic. She also hasn't seen Shrek. Bygones...

So thanks, A, for including me and making me feel like a part of the family. It was nice to spend a Monday with people who I love so very much and who don't leave me feeling like I have a big target on my chest. I think the boy and I have made major progress (though you'll need to keep putting on his shoes) and your daughter continues to amaze me. Just let me know when you need a sitter again. I'm there.

I just hope you've forgiven me for suggesting what a hoot it would be to watch The Bachelor.