I would like to explain to my neighbors why I made two u-turns in our neighborhood this morning.
The morning started very well. Nobody woke up early. I slept quickly last night and felt refreshed when my alarm went off at 6:15. I found an outfit easily. My mom emailed me to tell me she and my dad would be my personal shoppers and hit the grocery store and Wal Mart on their way to NJ to visit the kids today.
Last night I had prepared my “box.” My box is a black, rolling crate that holds the materials I use to present workshops. I took the time to double check my presentation, organize my handouts, and collect all the necessary materials in my box. My husband carried it to my car for me in an effort to “be sweet” (his words). So I was ready for the day and off to a good start.
And then I went downstairs and nearly walked out the door barefoot.
I could blame my error on my blonde hair. I often say, “The blonde is kicking in” when I do something silly. But in reality, it’s my kids’ fault. Mama’s closet is a favorite play area for both my son and my daughter. They are fascinated with Mama’s shoes, and they bring them, in pairs, from the closet to my room in order to try them on. Most of the time it’s cute to see my little girl with my sandals, correctly positioned between her big and second toe, sliding along the floor. It’s always hilarious to see my little boy in my dress shoes, especially when he mixes up the left foot and the right. It’s not always enjoyable to put all of the shoes away when it’s time to clean up, so I usually ask them to do it for me. They are pretty good at putting them back by throwing them in the closet on the floor in pairs, but sometimes they miss one. At some point in the last two weeks, one of my brown sandals ended up downstairs in the laundry room, and the other made it into my closet. I’m still not entirely sure how this happened, but at least I did know where the second sandal was this morning when I went to pull them out to match my easily found outfit.
I love being barefoot. I go shoeless whenever possible. When I was a kid, I would run around my parents’ 10 acres without sneakers. I would walk across the stone driveway without a thought. I enjoyed the freedom, and perhaps the social rebelliousness, of wearing no shoes. I’m not much different today. So it wasn’t a big deal for me to carry one sandal down the stairs in order to find the second. I put the sandal in my hand next to the one in the laundry room and went back to the tasks of the morning. While I was on the phone with my mom, giving her my shopping list, my husband walked down the stairs and into the office to let me know our son was awake. (You can read into this my reaction to why he needed to tell me that when I had already told my him that I was leaving, and he was in charge of the kids.) I quickly ran upstairs to kiss my baby and headed back down, grabbed my purse, ran through the laundry room and right past my shoes. I noticed my bare feet when I hit the cool garage floor.
None of this, however, explains to my neighbors why I drove up and down the street repeatedly this morning. I was nearly at the stop sign to turn out of the neighborhood when I realized the directions to the school where I was doing my workshop were still sitting on the kitchen counter. Turn around, neighborhood pass #1. I didn’t make it quite as far down the street before I realized that my Invisalign retainers were still next to my toothbrush. Turn around, neighborhood pass # 2. Finally, I made it out the door, out of the neighborhood, and into my day.
I guess I can’t blame this one on my kids. So I’ll just offer as explanation to my neighbors --- “the blonde kicked in.” I now have coffee, so I’m hoping I can keep the blonde at bay for the rest of the day.