I know it's Sunday, but....

Italian Heather at the grocer. 

Confession: Today, I had an experience where another mother and I walked into the grocer's and coincidentally notified our partners that we were headed into the ladies room. We did not know each other.

Our grocer only has one potty. Somewhere in the parking lot were two cars full of hot, hungry, and tired children.

The Husband was at checkout with a loaf of bread and the New York Times. We splurge on the Times on special occasions. Today is a special occasion because it is Mother's Day and The Husband's birthday.

Back to my confession.

This other mother was a bit behind me and wearing Birkenstock sandals and sweat pants.

I had just left church and therefore was wearing a dress and black patent leather high heels and apparently not enough Grace, even though I had just come out of three hours of church.

Ann Taylor is my mommy and she dresses me most days. I was happy my dress was 6% spandex.

Because I broke into a trot.  And so did this other woman.  Because the end of the rainbow happened to be at the back of the store next to the dairy.

I took aisle 7. She darted into aisle 8.

Surely me and my patent leather heels would be the losers over her much more aerodynamic Jerusalem Cruisers.

I was wondering while running if The Husband or other patrons had any notion of what we had going on. Surely this is only the kind of antic a mother does on Mother's Day when her children are not present.

The linoleum floors must have been favorable to the heels because I arrived first with a guilty grin feigning like I had walked the entire time. She was running and laughing as I sprung open the door to my destination.

Let me introduce you to my four year old self.

She sometimes comes out to play with random other four year olds in giant bodies with Birkenstocks.

My children really like it when I act four around them, but I tend not to. She's only allowed to come knocking when I'm alone. Sometimes she says hello when I'm supposed to be in serious conversation with The Husband.

I wonder if Heaven will be all of us playing together in our four year old bodies. Maybe I think this way because my youngest is four and I can't imagine enjoying him any more than I do right now.

I'll resume reading the Times aloud to Cory on this day we celebrate that he was born while he does some carpentry for the girls' room.

Reading the Times while The Husband uses Power Tools outside. Yes, I drink out of Mason Jars.

The Husband using power tools.

Ciao-ka-delic, baby.