This is the Dr. Seuss house Riley made in clay class. I aged ten years during its construction.
Here we are on the way to her art show yesterday.
Here she is at her art show. Adorable, right? That she is. And sweet as the day is long. I’d give a limb to rid her of the anxiety that tortures her so.
In 14 years of knowing HT, I’d heard him say the F word exactly once.
But there is a second time for everything.
He accompanied her to clay class last week, and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
Three more classes and the session is over. We’ll be taking a little break. Riley doesn’t respond well to valium, but mama might try it.
What else? What else? Oh…despite the fact that our date got canceled, we decided to have a lovely romantic evening at home on HT’s birthday after we tucked the kids into bed.
I changed the living room into a restaurant, (because c’mon, I wasn’t about to clear off the dining room table) ordered take-out, put in a few restaurant-ish CD’s, and hit “shuffle.” Joe Cocker, Eric Clapton. Billy Joel, Luther Vandross and for the life of me I can’t remember the fifth.
We sat down to eat in candlelight.
“This is just as wonderful as a restaurant,” I said, taking my first bite.
And HT, with a “How you doin’?” look said, “Even better.”
We smiled at each other.
And right at that moment, we heard a wicked wretch from upstairs. Seth threw up again.
He made it to the toilet that time, so clean up was a breeze. We got him settled back into bed, and soon we were back on our date.
We even got to do some things we wouldn’t have if we’d gone out, like slow dance to Eric Clapton’s Running on Faith, and sing Only the Good Die Young (you Catholic boys start much too late) as we danced in our living room. I mean, we could have done all those things had we gone out, but it would have looked weird.
Today, all is well. Seth feels better. We had a cake for HT (couldn’t do it yesterday with Seth being ill).
Riley is breathing easy.
You see, she’d been worried sick not enough had been made of her Dad’s birthday.