It was, apparently, 5:53 when the boys first woke up this morning. I heard them come out into the living room, heard Simon read the time off the clock, heard him say it was too early and they needed to go back to bed. And then, mere moments later they were in our room, dressed and letting us know it was 6:21. We were going to be late if we didn’t hurry.
So hurry we did, and 30 minutes later we were out the door and running (literally) to the Brooklyn Half race course, which was just over a mile from our apartment. We arrived at the 1 1/2 mile mark (approximately) just as the fastest runners were getting there and cheered people until we’d seen a couple of our friends run by. Then we ran over to the 5 mile mark (which was only about 1/4 mile from the 1 1/2 mile mark – there was a bit of looping in the first few miles) and cheered some more until we’d seen our friends again. And then we ran across Prospect Park to near the 6 mile mark and cheered again until we’d seen everyone we knew was running. And then we ran to our church and had breakfast.
We ran to the church not to have breakfast, but because today was ward cleaning day. And it was also the ward clothing swap. Which was awesome, as it always is for someone who is the least fashionably dressed person in a very fashionably dressed ward. For someone like me. I got some great things (excuse me – “pieces”) that I can wear now and some that I won’t be able to wear for a few months. I also got some clothes for the baby. When the church was all cleaned and I couldn’t justify going through the tables piled with clothes one more time, we packed up and ran home. We intended to take it easy. The boys (surprise) had fallen asleep in the stroller and we thought they should rest. Especially Oliver who didn’t sleep during his nap yesterday. But then Oliver woke up about two minutes after we put him in his bed, and then we remembered there was an open house at a nearby charter school that we thought we should check out, and then we decided to go for it because, why not?
Turns out we shouldn’t have. It was more trouble than it was worth. We got to the open house at 2:30 and it ended at 3:00. All the “classes” were ending – no more dance, no more drama, no more crafts, no more music – and all that was left was the playground and the guy tying balloon flowers. Simon nearly cried about there not being any more classes (twice), so we were happy at least there was the balloon man to save the experience. But after he’d run around the playground a couple of times, we got in line for a balloon flower only to hear that the girl in front of him was the last child in line. The balloon man was done after she got her balloon. I’d already decided that even if the school were in our district, I was not impressed by it. The fact that the balloon man wasn’t going to give my child a balloon just made me regret the decision to even see if I would be impressed by the school. And the fact that my child did stick around long enough to get a balloon anyway didn’t change that.
We walked home from the open house tired. At least Micah and I were. The boys were fine. So Micah took a nap and I cleaned the bathroom. And turned into a witch that snappily told the little children to get out of the bathroom every few minutes because I was cleaning it. Once the grout had been scrubbed back to a passable shade of white, and once Micah was awake, we decided we should probably do the laundry and feed our children. So Micah did the laundry and I got dinner ready. And then Micah bathed the children while I did the dishes. And then I read stories while Micah ran errands. And then I cuddled with the boys while Micah did some work. And then I made granola while Micah did some more work. And now I’m blogging while Micah works. And we’re both ignoring the pile of laundry that needs to be folded before we go to bed.
And that is what Saturdays are like at our house.