Another jarring thing that occurred (other than losing an hour of precious sleep) this past week is that I legit dropped the ball not once, but twice. Not "Oops Summer didn't wear a hat to school on hat day." It was for real, straight-up, completely forgot about stuff on my calendar, didn't even realize I had forgotten them until the next day kind of thing. Ugh.
One was the hour I was supposed to volunteer in Layla's class at school. This one really stabbed me in the heart. As the middle child, only 17 months older than her baby sister, born in the middle of nursing school... she is the child that I constantly feel guilty about. When she was an infant, I was studying and then pregnant four seconds later. As a toddler, it was the only period of time I was actually working. She rarely has ever had substantial alone time with me (Summer being the oldest has had tons, and Olivia is basically my butt-buddy on a daily basis through no choice of her own). I just feel like my little La has gotten the shaft, so when I fail in some way related to her, I feel 10 schmillion times the guilt. An hour of my week that she would have been thrilled to have me in class, I was an epic space cadet shopping at Costco. When I finally noticed it on my calendar the next day, I totally freaked out and emailed her teacher immediately. She is usually fantastic at responding and hasn't yet, so I think she officially hates me. Ugh.
The second space cadet moment of the week was completely missing a kids party that has been on our calendar for months. Once again, Sunday afternoon I glance at my calendar and GASP not AGAIN!!!! While I usually put things like volunteering and appointments as reminders in my phone, I have a fully successful track record making it to parties I have RSVP-ed for (and even saw the friend throwing it on Friday and said, "See you tomorrow!"). Thankfully it was not a specific birthday party (can I blame not needing a present threw me off?) but I was completely horrified to be such a flake. I am one who, if I have committed to something, will be 100% be there unless something absolutely major has happened. Even if I am deathly ill in bed and actually have to bail, I feel totally guilty about it and apologize an awkward amount.
So now, due to these recent brain farts, I live in a constant state of feeling like I'm forgetting something major. I have always kind of existed like that, but now, since I don't trust myself, I know the feeling could actually be reality which is quite the unsettling state. Even now as I am writing this, I was thinking about meeting Layla at lunch tomorrow to surprise her (she doesn't actually know I didn't show for volunteering, it would just be to appease my guilt). Oh wait, I already had to email Summer's teacher that I was not able to come for my scheduled volunteer time of 10-12pm because I have Olivia's parent-teacher conference at HER school at 11am. Since Layla's lunchtime is also at 11am, clearly I am delusional. And I need a better calendar system.
All of these scheduling mishaps must be related to my exhaustion. Let's get back to my dark under-eye circles. This past weekend was a doozy. A good and fun doozy, but a doozy nonetheless. Friday evening we had an event down at the Four Seasons hotel in Baltimore. Matt was invited for being one of the top insurance agencies writing business with this particular company, so it was a full-on getting-schmoozed evening of thanks with no work involved. Black-tie optional, yummy dinner and casino games = fab.
When it is black-tie optional, you really never know which way people are going to sway. I decided on a safe bet: go with a long gown but make sure it is black, simple and classy. That way I won't feel majorly overdressed or underdressed. While I absolutely adored my gown, I was not anticipating the unexpected snag in skin color due to last weekend's Miami shenanigans.
After buying out CVS's self-tanning options, Matt was able to at least make it less blatantly obvious. Phew. Crisis averted.
So usually at these gigs, I just play the wife role (small talk, smiling and nodding a ridiculous amount) because I have zero clue or understanding when work chatter comes up. Matt does a fantastic job of keeping me involved, but I am a-okay with being arm candy and drinking champagne.
How gorgeous is that background?!?! And I really wish I had taken more pictures that evening. My previous gambling experiences consists of losing 10 straight hands of War in Vegas (yes, there is War in Vegas and yes, I played it) and doing the same numbers at Keno when it is available. Since this was play money and the dealers were helping and explaining things to us, I felt quite at ease jumping in. I played blackjack, craps and roulette (which sidenote, that one Vegas trip we were with a friend who split aces and ended up getting blackjack. My naive 21 year old self whipped out my camera and got a perfect picture before I was nearly tackled by casino security. Oops). I dug up this priceless picture for your viewing pleasure, particularly since no one should ever even have it:
I still have absolutely no idea how to play craps, and sadly my Keno numbers didn't work at roulette. I did win plenty at blackjack, no pictures involved.
With my dear little brother sleeping at our house with the girls, we enjoyed staying overnight at the hotel. Let me tell you, glorious doesn't begin to describe it. The major amazeballs amenity, hands down, was in the bathroom. Are you ready? There was a freaking TV IN.THE.MIRROR. It wasn't hung on it or in a cut-out hole. It actually just appeared within it, AND you could see it from the tub. Somehow I didn't snag a pic of it but I found one on google:
That is just pure phenomenalness. I was amazed and now all I want is to have that in our house someday. #lifegoals
We also had a beautiful water view which I didn't take a pic of but stole from the hotel website:
And even a doorbell! It may or may not have taken me 10 full minutes to find the fancy switch to turn off the lights, but all is forgiven.
The next morning we ordered delectable room service and it was brought up on the most fantabulous table fully set and with the plates warming below (learn from it, Hotel Croyden). Brioche french toast with vanilla mascarpone, crispy bacon and a cappuccino for me. Steak and eggs for Matt. While ordering, Matt requested OJ. They asked "small or large" so Matt went with the large. What he was not expecting with a large was an entire picture of orange juice. What he was expecting even less than that was that said-pitcher of OJ cost $24.00. I repeat, twenty-four-freaking-dollars. I don't care if the oranges fell from heaven and were squeezed by chipmunks, on no planet should orange juice, regardless of size, be twenty-four fat ones. Needless to say, we tried to cherish every last drop of the golden OJ and even put the last bit into an empty water bottle to take home I don't even drink it typically but I helped in the finishing of the pitcher. I should clarify that there was no alcohol in this orange juice as well.
We left the gloriousness of the Four Seasons (the front desk people were cheery and glowing and said I was pretty... so they win) to head home to the normal chaos. What made returning to normalcy, however, was an oh-so-lovely delivery that made me far happier than I think a normal person should be. I would like to welcome this new apparatus to the Simmons family:
Seriously though, why do they not make all cleaning supplies in adorable polka-dots?!? I was looking into a cordless vacuum and I actually chose this one, in additional to great reviews, for its cuteness. I requested name recommendations on Facebook, the girls voted and...drum roll please... Meet Dottie. She will be the perfect partner to Reginald, my Steam Mop. It really is the small things in life.
As tired as you are reading this is as tired as I am writing, so more on the crazy weekend coming soon...
#ilovedottie
Happy day-after Leprechaun Day! Ps I'm Irish. Also Seminole Indian which I realize sounds shocking and is a weird twist.
TGIF!
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