Today

It was a day without a Dad, like a lot of these home-stretch-of-the-PhD days. Afternoon loomed, evening lurked, bedtime menaced. I had extra kids in the mix because my dear neighbor is sick. So I called Mary- she and I bonded over mastitis at church one Sunday- and we went to the park.

We laid the babies on blankets in the grass and talked and talked while our kids ran wild. Our conversation covered the state of Oklahoma, a documentary about sheep, and sloppy joe's. When Marley started rummaging around in my bag looking for crackers, I pulled out my Jimmy John's menu. Fifteen minutes later a sweaty man on a bicycle handed me a box filled with sandwiches and bags of chips.

The kids devoured their sandwiches and begged for sips from my water bottle. I made them go to the drinking fountain. It was too nice a day for floaties in my water. When they asked, do we have to go home soon? I answered, No. We're staying here until bedtime. And they all cheered.

At seven we picked up the blankets, babies and bottles, and herded our dirty, exhausted children to the parking lot. Anticipating a rocky bedtime, I stopped at Wendy's for five orders of compliance in a paper cup. Otherwise known as frosties. By 8:30 I had a silent house.

Lots of days I feel like a mess of a mother. Today? Nailed it.