My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

The Perfect Day


Saturday was about as perfect as a day can get in my life. So, I took notes of everything we did so that I can document it. It started out as a fairly typical Saturday and just got better as the day went on – which is normally the opposite of how things happen. Plus, the weather was perfect. The morning was chilly and wet but the sun came out, the temperature got up to the upper 70’s and there was just enough breeze. Just enough.

So, here is The Perfect Day in bullets (and I’m sure you will overlook the constantly changing tenses – present to past and back again):

• I woke up, cold, at 7:00am and turned on the heat for the first time this season. I didn’t really want to do it but Red never sleeps with covers and I always worry that she’ll be cold. If she is, she never seems to suffer from the effects.

• Before I could even get the newspaper, Dusty was up and Red was making noises in her crib.

• I made coffee, got the newspaper, got Red up (diaper changed, etc), fixed breakfast for the hungry masses, and sat down to read the paper.

• No chance! Red was on my lap with a book. It was official Read to Red time. This morning’s book was a story told in poetry in which the words were imbedded in the objects they described. Descriptive tree words were written inside the tree, in the shape of a tree, if you get me.

• Red only had one or two minor conniptions pertaining to food – that which she wanted RIGHTNOW and that which she refused. And threw on the floor.

• Dusty tried to get her to say “Scribbletown.” The conversation went like this: “Red, say ‘scribble’.” “No.” “Say ‘town’.” “No.” Dusty looks at me, “That’s how they say ‘Scribbletown’ in their language, ‘No, no!’.” Ah, but of course.

• Showers were had, clothes were donned and Red and I went off to the grocery store. Red received not only a free sample of some gross sugary Eggo cereal, but also a green balloon. The balloon scared her and then delighted her. Two year olds are so damn schizophrenic!

• Red sang and said “hi” to strangers and then, at the check out line, began grabbing things within her reach (ie, everything from candy bars to magazines to packs of batteries).

• We traipsed off to the library where we stocked up on Junie Jones and Ramona Quimby books (for Dusty) and discovered Bing Bunny for Red.

• At home, the thrills continued with...vacuuming! Ah, Red loves the vacuum cleaner with her whole big heart! She doesn’t squeal as much for anything else.

• Red actually TAKES A NAP!

• I pour bleach down the well to kill the dead animal smell. Now, my showers are reminiscent of an indoor pool! Ah, glorious chlorine!

• Dusty and I pour concrete and make the first part of the front path. We press jewels and shells and pieces of broken pottery (Dusty even got to break the plate and cup I bought from Goodwill) into the concrete. I got a good idea of just how much concrete it’s going to take to finish the job. (A lot.)

• After nap time, we went OUTSIDE. Red loves to say “outside” just as much as she likes to be outside.

• I pulled up my mega-super basil plant and the crew helped me strip the leaves for pesto. I ended up making 3 batches of pesto. That’s 7 ½ cups of basil leaves, my friends. That’s one hell of a lot of pesto. While we were de-leafing the plant, Daddy was mowing (finally).

• Pizza and oven fries night! Hell yes! Dusty loves herself some cheese pizza with black olives. Red loves her some potatoes! She also likes to have a dollop of ketchup on her plate. Not to eat, just to have. Everyone ate their corn. A delightful, tantrum-free meal was had by all. Hurray!

• OUTSIDE! There was much outsideness after dinner. Dusty and Red redistributed the grass clippings and Dusty tried to outdo herself in dirtiness – how many tons of grass clippings could she place on her body? Turns out, quite a bit. There was swinging and running and ball kicking and exploring and rock moving and yelling (Dusty loves to exercise her “outside voice”) and roaming. I weeded the garden, enjoying the fact that I did not have to watch their every move.

• “I’m a country girl!” Dusty exclaimed. “Really?” She looked at me with her ‘no, duh’ face and said, “Because I live in the country!” Oh. Right. Of course you do. Three years of living in rural America and I still don’t think of myself, or my children, as “country folk.” I have a feeling I never will.

• Red’s bedtime draws near. Her hands and feet (she’d come out in an old pair of rubber boots but had flung them off long ago) were filthy. I was suddenly just really happy – this is what I want their childhood to be about: hours of exploring outside and getting really, really filthy. I want part of their bedtime routine to include the scrubbing of hands and face and feet.

• Red is asleep and the rest of us settle down to an episode of The Electric Company.

• During my turn in Dusty’s long, drawn-out bedtime routine, I read a chapter from her current Ramona book and then we do “math” with her Lite-Bright board. I have yet to fully understand how filling in rows with colored pegs is considered “math” but I’m sure it is an extension of something she does as school. Something mysterious that I can’t know about because I’m no longer a part of that part of her life.

• Dusty’s convinced she won’t be able to sleep and yet wants to very badly. She is anticipating three things on Sunday: Spiderman comic in the newspaper, changing the calendar to the October page, and lunch (plus cake!) at Grandma’s house.

• Thus endeth a perfect day at Casa FreshHell.


11:36 a.m. ::
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