JustRunJustLiveJustBe

So now that I’ve got a little more free time on my hands, I’ve discovered something very interesting: I need a life again. Yes, while I kept up on running and hiking and lunch dates, and oh, even some good flirting and beer frappacino drinking, it still appears as though my evenings were mostly about sitting in front of a computer screen trying to come up with enough non-boring words to fill a space. And no, I’m not even talking about writing on this site.

After I celebrated on Monday and reveled in do-nothing glory on Tuesday, Wednesday loomed and I found myself thinking wow, woman, you are boring. And in a serendipitous moment, like perhaps when you meet the love of your life or manage to wear matching socks, my phone rang. It was a friend in a babysitter pinch wanting to know if I had a couple free hours for her girls. Well! Did I!

She dropped them off and I was all ready for some kid fun, and by that I mean macaroni and cheese and letting them go through my closet and try on all fifty-seven pairs of flip flops. (See, they all really can be used at once!) After we finished with that fun—and I came to the realization that all summer I’m going to be wearing one JCrew and one Reef because where on Earth are the rest of the shoes, girls—we hit the linen closet. There we went through all the seventeen thousand forty-nine cosmetic bags/cases/boxes I own and I let them each pick one to take home. They squealed, I squealed, it was magical.

I always love being the “fun aunt.” I’m the one that bears gifts and plays music too loud and lets them be messy with food. I am comfortable with this role. In fact, I take pride in it. It’s almost a challenge for me that when I get to hang out with these girls that we must always have fun. Barring any major risk or bad manners*, nothing “parent-y” is allowed.

So when their mother called to let me know she was on her way, we went to gather their things and pack up the huge production that is leaving the house with a three-year-old and five-year-old. It’s pretty chilly here at night yet, so I made sure they put on their sweaters. While I’m buttoning the sweater of the three-year-old, the five year old walks over to the front door, swings it wide open, opens the screen door and looks outside for her mother. And before I can even comprehend what I’m saying, these words just flew right out of my mouth: “Let’s not leave the door wide open, honey. We don’t need to give heat to the entire neighborhood.”

And then I said goodbye and went to put in my pink foam hair rollers.

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*Yes, manners. I am all about the polite and courteous fun.