Skip the Pizza, Order Sanity


Sitting here watching men's synchronized diving, I wonder to myself if it was really worth it today to pay someone 20 bucks to come and play with my kids for an hour this afternoon so I could go to the coffee shop and write in my journal.

Answer: yes.

Following a morning involving a botched beach day due to weather, then stressful Aquarium visit (um, who knew that a lot of the New York Aquarium is OUTSIDE? And it was first scorching then storming and I was navigating a new double stroller and my daughter's friends didn't show up because a friend's dog was sick or ate their homework or something and I had clearly not had enough coffee to be dealing with this so early in the morning).

Fast forward to the afternoon. Trying to get a quick nap in while baby is in exersaucer and Big Sis is in playroom with her. Hearing her say, laughing mischievously, "Now I am going to HIT YOU! It will be BAD". Running in to find Big Sis wielding the tiniest of tea party spoons at Baby who is clearly clueless and smiley. Still, time out ensues, and tears, and the ultimate confession that she is mad at me for taking the microphone away from her when I need to use it for gigs.

O...kay.

It's true--we have an amplifier and microphone set up in the living room because she loves to perform. She does this on a wooden "stage" (board) while wearing heels. She has much less conflict around being a performer and diva than I do. (More on this another time). It is pure--she wants to sing, always, and use the real microphone. When I have a gig I take it because I need it.

But yeah, by this point I needed a freaking break. Called a sitter, and took it. Brought back her fancy flower girl dress from the dry cleaners to make up for it, but otherwise felt no remorse whatsoever for getting out of the house to be around adult conversation and put pen to paper. When I got home, she twirled in the dress, we watched gymnastics and I felt sane again.

I was going to order a pizza tonight for 20 bucks. I am SO GLAD I used it to purchase my sanity instead.

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ps--I really do not intend this to become yet one more in an endless sea of mommyblogs. And yet, since I am a mom, I expect the girls will show up in here, just as, since I am a pianist, the piano will show up in here. So-there's my disclaimer, I suppose. Now back to practically naked wet men doing somersaults.