Useless

I put on shorts and a tank top today to walk over and pick up the boys. I'm always the first parent at the door for the "walkers," but that's okay with me because it gives me a chance to sit and have a rest before the walk back on my Roll-A-Bout. (And can I just say that they really need to put some all-terrain wheels on those things. If you hit one tiny pebble in the street while crossing, it feels like you might fall over.)

Anyway, I got to catch up with some parents I hadn't seen in a while. They were all so busy. They were all planning book fairs and classroom parties. They were bringing in decorations or dumpster diving giant tubes (I love you, Rogers). And there I sat knowing that it was all I had in me to scoot over to school and back. Mental energy I have a lot of. Physical not so much.

It also depressed me that when I went to scrub the table for snack when we got home that most of my right bicep was flapping back and forth. That didn't used to happen. Why does fixing one part of my body mean I have to let the rest of it deteriorate?

It's depressing. But it is what it is.

I was also sweating like a pig when X-man and I got home. Sigh.

I have a breakfast date tomorrow with a co-teacher from MMO. I'm so looking forward to it! And then MacTroll should be home tomorrow night. Thank goodness.

Oh, and why didn't anyone ever tell me about Mat Kearney? I've been listening to "She Got the Honey" pretty much non-stop all day. It's a bubbly song and makes me almost as happy as "Cecilia" by Simon and Garfunkel.

I'm going to channel my energy into waiting for the moment the doc says I can get back in the pool. I'll probably have to drag my legs for a while, but I'm going nuts here. I need something!

The Pop Protest: Rebel against the mommy funk

So I think Rob from High Fidelity said it best when he asked: 

"What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to Pop Music?"

I'm going to blame pop music for my funk today. Ms. Apple, Mr. Gibbard and others (You know who you are), I'm issuing a boycott of slow/sad music for the weekend. You'll have to deal without me looking to your emotionally crippling lyrics and achingly beautiful notes for life's meaning.