Today has been a good day.
No classes at uni, but a great meeting at the local museum where I will be doing my internship from September. I went to see them, because I have a good idea for an extra project I want to do with them. And luckily they said yes to that.
So now I just have to excel. Be effing brilliant. So they remember me if they ever know of a job-opening somewhere in the museum biznizz.
I am excited. And happy. And apart from my chest hurting (because appearantly you can try to breastexamine yourself too much) I feel good.
I picked up Jolina early-ish and we went home to make muffins, juice some fruit and veg, and prepare a nice chicken stock from scratch. Because I needed to do something that oozed surplus energy and made me feel better about my cooking/health/mommy-talents.
And it was a success. It worked well. Jolina was interested, helped peel, cut and tasted. It was picture perfect. No temper tantrums from either of us.
The afternoon went by, and suddenly it’s evening – and on a Friday night, it seems no matter how early you take the kids to bed, they still hit that overtired screaming point. And they also did today. But Alan is singing them their lullabies right now, and I can try just to remember the fun we had, and not the hysteric crying.
I am so glad I only made a small batch of muffins though, because I feel they will all be gone before Alan comes down.
The weekend is here.
The museum where I can’t wait to spend time. And try to be amazing.
Our afternoon muffin/juice party.
The girls with their Friday night treat bowls in front of the telly. And some very red icing. Because a little girl dropped the red food coloring, and the mom just thought – oh what the heck.
Alan got home from football just in time to do some circus fun with them before bedtime. Luckily all muffins and other food stayed down.