Part 2 of Part Deux: Speedboat and Flip Flops

So I promised to extend my last post, which was part two of another post. In actuality, that would make this post part three, but part 2 of part deux seems more apropos.

Today I did that thing that parents of newborns do. Only, I am the parent of not a newborn. In fact, I am the parent of a seven-year-old.

It was no ordinary Saturday morning. It was the morning we had a birthday party to attend for my son’s friend.

So I hurried us out of the house by 12:36 p.m., pushing my son to find his lightning bolt shirt and bathing suit just a little faster – and then even faster (please). I told my mom, who had stayed overnight with us, as she does once a month, she had to leave early. I factored in the exact amount of time we had to stop by the store to buy the necessary cat stuff for the donation to the animal shelter. Speaking of, do most people notice how many parents ask for donations to charities in lieu of presents? (We don’t do this, however. I am not on top of it enough to figure out which charity we’re to be donating said gifts to. Therefore, I end up feeling like a failure of a parent before and during every birthday party we attend while twenty children run around eating cake.)

Moving on…. We arrive to the nature center at 1:25 p.m., five minutes early. I am never five minutes early. But to this party, I was going to be on time. And I was SO on time.

Strangely, however, I saw none of Asher’s friends piling out of their own cars in the two neighboring sleeves of parking allotted for both eager and reluctant parents and birthday party attendees.

No one we knew climbed the ladders on the playground; strange children and unfamiliar thirty and forty-somethings dotted the landscape, pulling tiny hands along behind them.

I could keep going. I could tell you how we walked into the actual building where the snakes, spiders, and lizards are housed in glass cages. How we took in a brief breath of cool air conditioning before realizing the joint was practically empty.

I could tell you how for the third time in two days I pulled up the God forsaken Evite and how for the very first time, the date staring back at us in bold font stated Sunday, August 06. Sunday. August 6. Oh. I see. It all makes sense now. When did the date change? What gives?

Now, I am going to bring this all back to that God forsaken cleanse about which I was writing a few days ago and ten days before that. The cleanse meant to purify mind and body, a diet carefully and meticulously excluding any bread, cheese, butter, yogurt, granola, chocolate, pasta (not even rice pasta), or alcohol (oops). I could remind you how I am tired of cleansing and how I feel like I am attempting a trip to Mecca, crossing oceans on a speed boat, trudging through sandy deserts wearing flip flops and a bikini. But it’d be silly to compare a simple restrictive diet for a specified amount of time (30 days to be exact) to a religious trek requiring tremendous resilience and dedication.

But it’d also be stupid to show up to a birthday party on the wrong day. Which means I am definitely going to tell you that I am done with my religious quest through the dessert. Did I just write dessert? 🙂


(P.S. I can’t wait to write my third/fourth and possibly final update once this is over, including pictures of amazing – even if simple – dishes we’ve cooked. I have actually become a better cook through all of this. Au revoir!)



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