How is it that the longer the day, the less I accomplish? I was up before 8:30 this morning, and out the door a little after 9:00. Way too early on both counts. I was home from coffee with the mothers in the family by 11:30. And yet, I have nothing to show for all the extra time I smeared on myself today like chicken fat.
Oh, sure, there was coffee. It was supposed to be brunch, but I donít eat that early in the day anyway, especially on a Sunday. All of the mothers liked their gifts and the attention, or at least put up a convincing show. Mom was happy with the antique coffee table Suzanne and I gave her. (Actually, itís more of an end table, but in her tiny apartment it will be a mini-coffee table and magazine rack.)
And the babies were in rare form this morning. Kylie was in a good mood, smiling at everyone and even playing a little peek-a-boo with me. She really lit up when she saw that her Uncle Eric was there, though. Aiden was his usual sparkly self, dancing around and sharing his drink (water, not coffee) and saying ďAs seen on TVĒ (over and over, because he knew he could get a laugh with it every time).
I guess maybe thatís enough for one day. Thereís nothing I could have accomplished the rest of the afternoon and evening that would have given me any more satisfaction than to spend an hour with my family on Motherís Day.