Date Night

The idea of a date night is to take time, unwind, and reconnect. But, with the never ending schedule of summer camp, little league, and an endless to-do list at home and the office, the only “date” I have is with my Serta perfect sleeper.

But tonight, with the laundry scales tipping toward done and my littles tucked in front of a Redbox of Forest Gump for the fourth time this summer (don’t ask me why) I am taking ME out.

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I’ve taken a page from the book of a confirmed bachelor friend of mine and I’m settling in with a glass of wine, a LUSH sex bomb bubble bath, candles, and all things girly – tricks guarenteed to drop a pair of panties in no time flat*, followed up by some trash television – a.k.a. Real HouseBitches – and my comfy socks.

I might even give myself a happy ending (which as exhausted as I am right now means a second (okay third) glass of wine and lights out by 10:30.

*Okay so the panty dropping is essential for a bubble bath, but I imagine asking a girl if she’d like to take a bubble bath is pretty damn effective, even for harried moms with hectic schedules.

That Kind of Morning

It’s that kind of Tuesday morning which really should be a Sunday.

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It rained all night and now the valley smells rich and mossy.
My sheets are freshly washed and perfectly crisp, beconing me back to bed.
The pot is brewing with more coffee than I can drink in my hectic scramble to get out the door, and pancakes are browning on the griddle.

The sun is a perfect shade of August, with a caressing breeze teasing and toying across my sunny porch.
Best not to ignore signs like this.

Clearly the calendars got it wrong.
Today is Sunday, I’m calling in.
I’ll go back to Wednesday tomorrow.