Who watches over you?

Suddenly it's September, and the weather is cold and rainy and we're feeling it as the summer screeches to a halt. Evan's been wearing the new school jeans, and I've been digging out my jeans and saying prayers as I try to zip them up. The weight is gone, but my body has changed shape--I'm going to have to go school shopping too. And tomorrow Grady's getting a whole new wardrobe courtesy of the Rubbermaid tubs in the attic.

School starts for Ev on Wednesday, so tomorrow's the start of strict bedtimes again and more rigid schedules. It's good, because he's been getting a little crazy recently and he could use the activity and structure again. I'm sure Grady won't know what to do, having me to himself every morning. I have a list of projects as long as my arm that have waited all summer, so G's going to have to be Mommy's little helper around the house.

Yesterday we rattled around and took a spur of the moment trip to Pittsburgh--IKEA and Costco and the Apple store. For the first time, Ev was tall enough to go in the play room at IKEA, and he had an awesome time. They have wooden trains set up in there, and slides, and two huge ball pits, and who knows what else. He just loved it, and I'm sure he would have stayed in there all day if he could have. I loved the baby care room where I could nurse G in peace and let Ev use a pint-sized potty. I can't tell you how nice it was to shop somewhere so family friendly for once.

And we are definitely quite the family now. I notice other families when we're out, especially ones with more than one child. And the moms definitely don't look as frazzled as I feel, so I wonder if I'm missing out on some great big mother secret. It's not hard to take the boys out, it just requires constant vigilance, and heavy lifting, and the incessant barking of directions. Of course, all this is done cheerfully, as I don't want to be the angry cursing mom you see so often when you're in the store, but still--I feel like I'm sweating all the time, and anxious, and I just know my hair is frizzy. Why do the other moms look so damn calm?

I can almost predict a comment coming from Eden or Julie that says simply, "drugs".