Ten minutes

The last 2 days, we have come home from school pickups and taken ten minutes to sit, have a snack, and talk about our “homework” (KT’s collection of papers and art is what she calls her homework, and she loves to tell me about each drawing and worksheet). I want us to do this EVERY DAY. Whoever is home first. We eat dinner all together nearly every night, and I know what a rarity that is, but I don't think there's anything wrong with one more daily chance at quality time. And then after ten minutes, I want the kids to go “unwind” in front of the TV so that I can get dinner started. Heh. “Quality time is finished, kids, now get out of my kitchen.”

Actually it ended up being more than ten minutes yesterday, because we got to laughing about something... what was it? Oh, right, it was “my poopy-dommy mommy.” My Granny invented that phrase as part of her storytelling. It stuck with me as a child because it sounds so silly, and now it tickles my kids. Yesterday I told them that my Mom has never liked it or thought it was funny. They laughed and laughed, every time we said it, and every time I wrinkled my nose at it, “like Grandmommy does.”

Anyway, the ten minutes is clearly worth it. They thought so, too, because they got to eat Little Bites brownies.

[Also: I read recently (again) that just ten minutes of exercise will make a difference. Maybe you’ve heard my sad stack of excuses before...? I consistently go in spurts, working out 3 times a week for about 2 weeks, and then it falls off again like a rock off a ledge. I would say I’m sick to death of it, but “to death” sounds like an unintended invitation – especially with as much as I read and write (for work) about breast cancer and women’s health. Things are preventable! Exercise helps Everything! Ten other minutes. *she says with authority* Maybe while dinner's working.]

I'm giving up on A Tale of Two Cities. I gave it a go; I really wanted to sink into it again. But life's too short, you know? I've read it before and I know, I remember, that I loved it then. Plus it has felt very inaccessible to my brain in its "busy-mom" state, with ten minutes left for reading at 10:50 pm. I need fluff. Or at least something that's going to grab me and not make me work so hard for it. So. Brisk clap! Thank you, Mr. Dickens, be on your way.