Ever feel like you are having a totally cliche sort-of day?
Like perhaps you once found yourself walking through the campus of a college, spirit-wear donning your body, backpack full of books, autumn leaves swirling around you; as if you just stepped off the glossy pages of the school’s recruiting catalog?
Or perhaps you have looked up in the Starbucks you are visiting and noticed everyone else happens to be checking their Blackberry like you, sipping their venti non-fat vanilla latte with two equal like you, and wearing a navy shirt and tie combo that looks frighteningly like yours?
Around 12:32pm today I realized I was having a cliche sort of day.
This morning, my alarm clock went off at 5:00 am.
I attempted to get some writing done and pour two cups of coffee down my throat before greeting my 2 children for the day and sending my husband off to work with a kiss.
I fed the children eggs and toast (okay, I fed my boy eggs and toast. The two year old only eats waffles and yogurt. Every. Single. Morning. Yes, I totally allow it.)and filled sippy cups with the special mommy concoction of 2/3 water and 1/3 part juice.
I dressed the children, brushed their teeth, combed their hair, and sent them to play together in a bedroom while I dressed myself.
I put on a crisp white t-shirt, a cardigan, khaki pants, and sensible non-athletic tennis shoes.
I fastened my hair back with a clip and attached some non-descript silver earrings to my ears.
Breakfast dishes were loaded in the dishwasher, appointments were scheduled via various phone calls, and children were herded to the car.
We stopped at the park, the children’s clothing store, and the post office.
One child completely fell apart in the clothing store over having to leave the Lego table and the general public was again reminded of why age two is often described as being terrible.
The other child was wearing an orange safety vest and carrying a walkie-talkie, informing said general public he was a Police Officer.
Upon completion of errands, the two children and I met the husband for a light lunch of sandwiches and soup at a local delicatessen.
Lunch was eaten, good-byes were administered, and everyone (minus the husband) loaded back into the family station wagon to head home for naps.
Today, I was the walking billboard for the stereotypical image of The Stay-at-Home Mom, right down to my cardigan sweater and screaming toddler. My former 20-something year old self might shudder at such an image, but honestly I kind-of life my suburbia life.
Complete with toddler tantrums, lack of private restroom breaks and sensible non-athletic tennis shoes.
Lynley Baker Phillips is a stay-at-home mommy to two, blogger, former special education teacher, and referee in all major toy disputes. Her writings have been featured in various publications and on her mother's refrigerator door. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org or check out her blog at http://www.savethephillipsfamily.blogspot.com.