The tick tock of our old clock in the living room. The deep breathing of the 7 year old who insisted on having a sleepover with me. And, the sound of plow trucks scraping the road. That’s the only noise right now besides the musical clicking as I hit the keys to make these words.

I’m hoping that my theory of just-drive-over-it-and-it-will-eventually-go-away works for me tomorrow morning. But, if it doesn’t, I keep telling myself that shoveling is a no-brainer and is way easier than figuring out how to start a lawn mower (and keep it running) and change a car battery—both of which I did in May when Mark was last in China. Shoveling a driveway? Geesh, that’s nothing…right? Who cares that I’m the type of girl who stays inside with my hoodie hood up sipping a cup of hot tea when my kids go outside to play in the snow. I can totally do this shoveling thing. Yup, I’m all over it…after I try to drive over it first.

And after the neighbor asks me to do his driveway too because I seem to be so good at it, I promise I’ll feed my children something a bit squarer. I took all four kids to Target last night (I know…brave? crazy? yeah) for them to do their shopping for Daddy and each other. And, it took twice as long as it could have/should have because I had the genius idea go around the store and very discreetly take pictures on my phone when someone saw something they wanted to buy for a sibling. Then, when everyone had spied their perfect items, I set them up in the Target cafe with popcorn and slurpees while I went back around the store and enjoyed a scavenger hunt solo to find the items they wanted to buy and then buy them while they crunched and slurped. I’m actually a little sore today from the workout (which likely won’t do me good tomorrow if my minivan plowing doesn’t work). So, all that to say that dinner last night was popcorn and slurpees. Then, today, since I insisted that we stay until 1pm at a Toys for Tots Star Wars meet and greet because I was determined we’d win the drawing for the iPad mini (…and…we didn’t), lunch was a bit late…so we ordered pizza for dunch/linner at 3. Popcorn and slurpees one night, and pizza and root beer floats the next.

I feel like I’m in college again—except for the fact that there is a 7 year old asleep next to me and that there is no need for an alarm clock because I’m certain someone will be asking me commanding me to serve breakfast before 7am tomorrow.

One vendor with a table at the event today was having a giveaway for a wine basket. I filled out an entry even though I don’t even drink wine…not exactly sure why. Seeing the kids all with me and the 3 bags I was carrying around along with 5 winter coats awkwardly stuffed under my arm, he told me he hoped I’d win and that two wine bottles might be just what I need.

Only if they help me shovel better.

Though they’d always make a nice gift to give someone who has the gift of shoveling, I’m sure.

Chewy, come shovel my driveway.

He left today. He (sort of) walked out the door–2 suitcases only ounces under 50 lbs each, the carryon strapped to his back, and the backpack on his chest like a Baby Bjorn sort of slowed him down a bit. He’s en route to Beijing right now and will be for a good while longer. Yeah, he’s not even remotely near that end point yet. Doesn’t help that he was delayed for 2 hours because…and I’m not joking…the North Pole was too cold and they were worried about fuel freezing or something seemingly crazy like that. They actually had to change course. Too bad his plane was full of Chinese people who weren’t interested in a bunch of Santa jokes. That cold North Pole thing could have gotten a lot of comedic mileage.

So, what’s a girl to do when her husband leaves to bring Christmas to China? Go to the theater, of course.

I knew I was a little bit crazy to plan a night at the theater in Philly with all four children the day Mark leaves for China. But, I was offered tickets. And, it was Potted Potter, a 70-minute parody of all 7 Harry Potter books performed by 2 guys only. I had to take them. My friend told me I wasn’t crazy, just very brave. Very brave and crazy are pretty close if you think about it.

I thought that leaving 90 minutes before the show started was giving us plenty of time. I even worried about getting there too early and having to keep the troops entertained before they were entertained. But, as soon as we pulled out of the driveway and loaded Google maps, I realized we had a problem. It estimated our drive to be 1 hour and 50 minutes long, our 22 mile drive, mind you. I so wanted to turn around and bail entirely. But, I had built this show up and I had three kids in the back with owl, rat, and cat stuffed animals and wearing time turner necklaces and one little four year old who wouldn’t stop saying “Potted Potter” over and over again because she kept forgetting what it was called. There were no options but to keep going…slowly going. I started preparing them that we’d be late but it would be fine…as I was thinking this was insane and that missing 30 minutes of a 70 minute show was good enough reason to turn around and go home. But, there was no reason that would allow that. As to be expected, 1/3 of the way into the drive, my stress multiplied tenfold when Lydia announced her need for a potty and Ashlyn reminded me that Daddy had gotten our never-leave-home-without-it travel potty out and we had left home without it. She had to hold it. And, she did. But, I honestly don’t know how. I drove like I was on a mission, weaving in and out and praying all the way that we’d make it there fast and in 5 pieces (that’s one piece per person), arriving at a parking garage near where I thought the theater was 95 minutes after leaving the house and 5 minutes after the show started. I wonder if the drivers who watched me grab my children’s hands and arms and run down Chestnut Street in search of the theater thought I was crazy or brave. Seriously out of breath—in that dry, coughy, Ashtma sort of way—we got to our seats just as the narrator introduced the two actors.

Phew. Yeah, that’s an understatement.

And, then of course, I had to get up again to take Lydia to the potty because I had forgotten all about that. But, when we got back, those three Potter pokes were glued to the stage and smiling and laughing and loving their night out on the town watching what was like a really funny YL run-on minus the underdog theme and all about Harry Potter instead which didn’t mean a whole lot to me but means a whole lot to them.

We made it home. The house is quiet, and all the kids are asleep. Their lunches for tomorrow are made, and their outfits laid out. The sink isn’t empty, but I don’t care. I’m in a comfy bed and ready to close up this Macbook and call it a day. Peace out from this crazy brave mama.