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January 31, 2008
This shit is GOOOOOOOD.
My post is also up over at Parenting.
This year at my son’s gymnastics lessons there are four of us who sit and talk every week. Sometimes it will be a funny story about one of our kids. Sometimes a story about our husbands. We discuss our various jobs. I know their ages, their children’s ages, where they themselves fall in the birth order of their families, what they hate most about their houses, even their stances on immunizations and medications. I know who had natural childbirth and who begged for the epidural in their last trimester. I know who has lost family members to cancer.
My husband always laughs when I come home with stories about women that I hardly know and talk to only one hour once a week. He jokes that I know more about my new “friend” than he knows about his best friend, whom he has known since elementary school. And that was a long LONG time ago, for those of you who are counting.
Now I am trying to convince my children that granola IS a dinner food. And convince myself that driving to gymnastics for 7:30 pm lessons, that I affectionately call middle of the night gymnastics, is what I feel like doing after a long day. I am failing on both accounts.
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