Bacon Thief

It’s 6:45 a.m. and I am sitting at the dining room table, finishing off my protein shake and my three pieces of bacon, and reading SOL entries, work emails, and (of course) FB.  I have 5 minutes of “play” time after the 2 oldest are being driven to high school by my husband.  I get up at 4 a.m. to make sure this happens.   I just woke my 7th grader, who is showering (at last, without reminder), and I’m perusing the Internet for what will be the last time until after school–a luxury.

My son’s breakfast of a Belgian (homemade) waffle, a protein drink, and a piece of bacon, steamy and delightful, sits next to me, awaiting his arrival.  Lilybug, the oldest of our three cats, sits as cats do, stretched out upon my part of the table, the mail, the beginning of the year information and forms, a few magazines, college announcements, etc., looking, as cats do, uninterested in the comings and goings of our house.

Lilybug almost died last winter break when we went camping and left her and the other cats to our cat sitter.  She went on a hunger strike.  She would only be hand fed meat, chicken and lamb, on my daughter’s bed (her other spot), much to the utter horror of my daughter, who is vegan.  Lilybug is now fat and fluffy and queenly again, so we let her sit wherever.  She is generally a polite and dignified cat.

After my five minutes are up, I shut down my laptop and close it.  As I slip the laptop into its case, I see Lilybug ever so silently dodge candlesticks, Megablock Halo men (because you know every dining room table needs more things on it), and don’t-forget-to-take-to-school-here-it’s-right-in-front-of-you items and stealthily thieve the bacon on my son’s plate!  Lilybug!  The cat that wants you to hand feed her!  The cat that demands you bring her food to her!  The cat that wouldn’t jump on the cat counter to her dish, but wanted to be lifted in her oh-so-dainty way in order for us to redeem ourselves for leaving her to camp in the (yuck!) outdoors (who would do such as thing as actually go outdoors?).   Lilybug.  Bacon Thief.

Lilybug

Black Belt Test

There are a million things running through my mind right now.  I’ve got 15 minutes to crank my first SOL blog out before my 14-almost-15-year-old daughter’s black belt test.  Suffice it to say, this is a BIG deal, both SOL entry and a black belt test.    The crockpot is burbling with non-vegan bone broth, the laptops are newly charged, the whites are drying while the darks (load 3 today) are washing, and my resources for the first week of school lesson planning are awaiting.  So many things going through my head (in between, I am feeding the guineas, the rabbit, the cats, and the dog), anxious, nervous, excited about the potential of this new school year!  I just discovered the Slice of Life, the 40 Book Challenge, the Day-to-Day book from the Two Writer’s Blog, and I’m devouring everything, every chance I get.  I’ve got three blogs going and here I start a new one with 2 loads of laundry still to do and my beautiful, strong daughter getting ready to spar and cry (because I know it’s going to happen) and her non-karate-taking mother will squirm (it’s unpleasant) and be thinking in all of these special things going on in my head for the new classroom, as well as the day-to-day (not to be mixed up with the book by that name), never ending laundry, dishes, chauffeuring, grocery shopping, planning, folding, and cheerleading, and all my personal thoughts of when can I get to crossfit, what new yoga sequencing for class can I teach, and aren’t-I-excited-to-get-to-do-paddleboard-yoga next Saturday, there is nothing as SPECIAL as this test for Nina.  I couldn’t be more proud of her work in the past 9 years, watching her go from a bitty bug to a womanly buggly, experiencing her meet a challenge in that confrontational, determined way she does.  Even as she yells, “Don’t be late!” and my husband restates:  “Take lots of pictures!” because he is the head of the system and running the test, I am still thinking of all the things that would have normally been going on, and how lucky am I to get to experience this once-in-a-lifetime thing.  I only have one daughter, and in 2 hours, with tears, bruises, frustration, and (don’t forget) intensity, she will be a black belt.