Dear Diary,

April 10, 2014

Dear Diary,

Deciding to put the kids in school has seemed to work out well. Everyone is thriving and I have a lot more time to focus on getting things put away in the new house. I know I may have said this before, but this may very well be the happiest time of our lives.

Yesterday started out very promising. I signed up to chaperone a field trip to the Smithsonian Natural History Museum with Michael's class. Lucy was able to come along and I was very much looking forward to seeing the caveman exhibit I heard about on NPR. An artist/anthropologist has rethought how to reconstruct early man beginning at the bones and sculpting from the inside out. I was also pretty excited at the thought that I could put Michael back on the bus and go to the Cherry Blossom Festival with Lucy. I've never been in 15 years of living in DC and with homeschooling in our rear view mirror, this was the perfect time.

We got up early, packed a yummy lunch, put on our best walking shoes and got set to hit the town. That is when our plan unravelled.

First of all, I got separated from the school bus I was following, which if you know DC traffic you will understand that this spells disaster. As the bus sailed through a yellow light at a main thoroughfare and into the city of gridlock and tunnels, I felt like I was waving to the launching space shuttle from terra firma. Farewell. Hope to see you again someday.

I then employed the help of my frenemy (mostly enemy) Siri. I think I said something like this, "Siri, I know we have had our differences in the past but I really need you to get me to the Natural History Museum. The Smithsonian. In Washington DC." Apparently Siri hasn't forgiven me for all the times I have cursed her and wished her dead over the years, because what I heard back was, "Starting route to … Hayden Planetarium" the one in New Flipping York. I then screamed some obscenities at Siri and told her I really did wish her dead. And I do.

I used my very own homing skills to get us to the Natural History Museum and as I turned the corner I saw Michael's bus. Victory. That is when I heard Lucy in the back say, "Mommy, my tummy hurts….. blaaahhhhhhhh!" She vomited all over herself and the seat of the car. Game over. I called one of the moms that I knew on the bus and got the message to Michael that we had to go home. He was fine. He enjoyed the trip but never did get to see the cavemen.

Lucy and I took the long way home. She used one of Grant's old shirts to mop up the vomit and sucked her fingers as we drove the route of the cherry blossoms.

Someday I will make it to that festival, and when I do, I am sure that I will find myself wistful for the days of vomit and field trips. All in, I count myself very fortunate. Very fortunate indeed.