W(h)ine O’Clock Somewhere

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Welll we all survived the first week of getting back into a routine.  I got my little one to school on time, her uniforms were different each day, and I packed her usual vegetarian gluten free lunches with varying fruit, honey peanut butter sandwiches, and some type of cheese.  I brought snacks and got her to karate twice right after long days at school.  This is the first time she has not napped and I have allowed her to have apple juice before martial arts classes to make sure my karate kid girl was able to keep going.  When I got her after school she smiled her angelic smile up at me and then asked where her snacks were.  I explained that we were just going home and that she could relax; karate is Monday and Wednesday and swimming wasn’t until tomorrow.  “But way-os my SNACK?!” she asked with indignation and outrage.  “At home” I replied.  And then she proceeded to completely freak out and had a total meltdown.  “How COULD you?!” she cried.  “You knew I needed a snack because I’m SO hungry!!” she wailed.  Now red faced, “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HURT ME LIKE THIS!  I have no SNACK!” she shrieked dramatically.  She proceeded to flail around as I was trying to buckle her into her car seat.  It reminded me of a cowboy trying to ride a bull just out of the gate.  On the short drive home my head began to pound mercilessly.  I gave up trying to talk to her because she wouldn’t stop screaming.  Finally she managed to wear herself out and I noticed her eyelids drooped.  Poor baby wasn’t intentionally trying to torment me; I think she was just exhausted after such a big week.  When we got home and I’d gotten her strawberries and cheese she meekly said, “I’m sorry I flipped out Mama.”  “That’s OK honey” I said as I began cracking open a bottle of wine at 4 p.m.  I sat my glass down, lit a candle for serenity, and snapped this picture.  I think if it could talk the Native American would be saying, “What was all the commotion?” while the peace loving wolves would be running in the other direction away from all the noise.  In typical cat fashion Le Chat Noir would be fed up while wise St. Francis seems to simply be pointing the way to my much needed wine.  One of my favorite actresses, just as lovely in person as she is on screen, Jane Seymour, said, “At the end of the day, I let myself have a glass of wine.”  As for me, I decided it was w(h)ine o’clock somewhere.

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