I'm doing the thing I have to do where I wake up slightly before 6:00 AM to sign up for summer camp. It opens at 6:00 and fills up within 5 minutes so I gotta. It's giving apex predator. The camp was originally going to move the time to 5:30 PM but nobody liked that very much. No, they said. That's inconvenient. So here we all are. Moms in Anchorage.
Update: fucking did the thing! I only signed her up for one week; I'm not one to fly too close to the sun. One week of camp with historical bestie 1 (V), one week of camp with historical bestie 2 (A) and then Horse Camp (assuming grandparents are onboard for taking her/picking her up from that one; it's a bit of a schlep, if still within city limits). Note to self: sort out insurance biz for horse camp (if that happens) since you won't be able to work at Starbucks for that period of time.
S finally made it to Seward ice notwithstanding. So, that's good! He's cocooned in masculine energy (roofing crew) and his best friend. I think that's good. We called him last night.
It was nice to have a chill day yesterday, because today we're not entirely all back on our bullshit - but it's sure a lot closer:
- the adrenaline rush of registering for summer camp first thing in the morning
- eye appointments for both of us this morning (I finally get contacts back! I get to see! Huzzah!)
- school drop-off for L; she gets to go in late as a result of Eye Stuff which is pretty much rock star status in 1st grade
- work for me (I have been tasked with getting a "warm drink" [even though L does not actually like these I think she asks just to be polite] and two cake pops. One for her and one for the gentleman below.)
- picking L up from a playdate with B at his house
- clean out the car?
- a light dinner; maybe we take something over to her grandparents' house? They haven't seen her in a minute
- going to the gym (she wants to go to child watch; they do a pretty decent job and I only ever work out for 30 minutes at a stretch these days so...eh!)
- picking up my parents from the airport
So. While I'm still waking up, let's talk about first-grade crushes. My first-grade crush was on a kid I eventually went to college with. I did not, however, really even exchange two sentences with this dude while at college. I think some of the bloom was off the rose by then and five-year-old me might have been objectifying him a bit. I was all about The Little Mermaid and redheads at the time and this guy had red hair. Probably still does, but we're all getting older so who knows? I'm also fairly certain I just started calling him my boyfriend without ever having had a conversation with him about it (consent! Consent is key!) so I probably just prattled on about how cute he was to my mom, aunts and grandma, had a few playdates where I watched him move green army guys around (scintillating) and then the family moved to Jackson. Mischief managed!
Well, B is one of L's crushes and certainly the one I consider the origin of the most "classic crush" types of behavior and statements from her. And it's kind of funny how the brain gets dopamine from that, you know? But anyway, his mom seems hyper-on board for it and has been nothing but kind and I privately think of her as a "happenin' lady". She keeps trying to set up playdates when I'm on a plane! At work! At lab!, etc. And so she suggested that the au pair (whatever you're thinking - probably, yes) pick them both up from school since I'm working until 4:00 and have a playdate.
This was extremely sick (positive usage), because I didn't want to ask my in-laws to shoulder too many pick-ups this week and felt kind of between a rock and a hard place with work - because as great as my manager is I know she's got limits and it is an evil corporation at the end of the day no matter how many benefits they offer. So hopefully that'll all work out well. I have a bunch of anxiety about it, naturally, but it'll probably be fine. And probably the worst that'll happen is B being exasperated because L doesn't want to play with the 2025 equivalent of green army guys.
Ah, l'amour.
Okay. Pitter-patter, let's get at 'er.
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