Day 9

Today was a bit hectic, I didn’t prep as well as I should have so that definitely added to my stress. I managed to pull it off without a hitch though- miracle of miracles. O had her pre-k prom and she was super excited about it. Personally, I had never heard of such a thing before. When I was kid, there was much less pomp and circumstance surrounding certain milestones. I am pretty sure there wasn’t even a graduation ceremony. We just finished preschool and went to kindergarten. No big deal. Now, everything is a BIG deal. Dance recitals are HUGE undertakings, pint-sized graduates don caps and gowns, and pre-k students go to prom. Ok, fine. I can roll with it.

Let me back up a bit. I woke up to a delicious shake- vegan chocolate with blueberries, almond butter and distilled water. I didn’t realize how much I would miss my shakes until I didn’t have them everyday. It is so crazy to me, but my body now craves those nutrients.  I dropped O off at school and tried to put S down for a nap. She wasn’t having it. At all. S…this skipping nap thing is not working for me. I need sometime to get my shit done without feeling like I am blatantly ignoring you. Get on board. Lunch was leftover pinto beans and rice with a microgreen salad. It was delicious, again.  Next thing I knew it was time to go pick up O. Shit! I didn’t prep for dinner at all which was a complicated sounding Sweet Potato and Roasted Red Pepper Bisque with asparagus and slivered almonds. You guys? The only reason I even know that bisque is soup is because I worked in the restaurant industry for YEARS, otherwise I would have been totally lost.

Took O for a haircut at one of those kiddie places where the chairs are Barbie Jeeps and crap like that. O has amazing hair (thick and curly) and she should definitely be going to see an actual stylist at this point, because she could really end up butchered. However, Miss O cannot resist the allure of a Barbie Jeep. She cried actual tears when I suggested going elsewhere.  I asked the “stylist” (I am using this term very loosely) to give her a special braid or something for her prom. She didn’t seem to want to (she actually rolled her eyes at my request- lady I am with you. I also think pre-k proms are a little much), but in the end she wound up giving her a pretty kick ass “Elsa” braid for the occasion.

At this point, I had less than two hours to attempt the bisque. I was really stressing because there were a TON of ingredients and all had to be prepped in some way (boiling, roasting, grating and so on). Plus, I had to triple the recipe which may sound like no biggie to you, but to me? I tend to avoid all things math. Because? Math. I have many strong suits, but math isn’t one of them. How many times can I use the word “math” in this paragraph? Math, math, mathy math.  In any event, I pulled it off and it was actually amazing. The credit obviously goes to the recipe itself and not to the chef in this instance. (Math).

I packed up a portion of soup for Friend S (remember her?) who would also be at the pre-k prom, dropped S off with Aunt Do Do (my best friend whose name is obviously not actually Do Do. Accordingly, she doesn’t need to go by an initial) and O and I were ready to roll. The prom was super adorable. The kids had an amazing time with each other and their amazing teachers, whom I will pay tribute to later this week. Finally ate dinner around 8:30 and realized that I was exhausted.  It dawned on me that I hadn’t sat down at all since like 9:00 a.m, and I hadn’t felt tired at ALL until that moment. I also didn’t have ANY coffee or caffeine at all. This reset business is no joke and I am feeling better than I have in YEARS.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s