Today, I actually asked a Star Wars lunch box to define me.

This morning began with Little J leaving his lunch on our outdoor playground.  This makes me crazy for many reasons, but mostly because me running BACK up to the kids school is becoming a habit that I am ill-equipped to deal with before 9:00 a.m. and an I.V. drip of Diet Coke.  Which I gave up this month, if you're keeping tabs.  


But also, today felt like a day of omens, and I don't really believe in those, except for when I feel like I'm 13-years old again, and the success of any given day can be predicted by whether or not I can get my bangs to stick (no less than) five inches, straight into the air.  I suppose I just need SOMETHING, like bang-height or lunchboxes, to trust in today--because we are SO close to loving or losing a house and I need to make (non)sense of it somehow.  Or at least I need to believe that it had nothing to do with my *amazing* personality.  


{For the record, I did not crimp my bangs and then proceed to tease them, today.  In case you were worried.  But, sadly, I did kill the ozone layer between 1987--1993.}

Also.  This afternoon afforded us an extra hour of time, because Little J lost his television privileges (more on this tomorrow).  And in this particular vacuum of the time-space continuum, I managed to coerce/encourage/threaten the boy into writing his valentines, which his teacher requested be sent prior to Valentine's Day--because I don't think she read my blog post about how I have given up all attempts to look like I have my act together (also reference paragraphs 1 & 2 of this post).  Except, here is where a small miracle occurred--I purchased STORE-BOUGHT valentines for the boys, which means I am definitely (sort of) evolving from the woman who stays up all night on February 13th, baking 15-batches of sugar cookies and hand-tying them in cellophane baggies with grosgrain ribbon (true story, link HERE).  I say "sort of" because the girls are still "making" their valentines; but also, this year was DESTINED to be easier, because Little J has graduated from his preschool class of 40 students, which was a technical, valentine nightmare. 

So, I bought myself a few extra hours, but I have to tell you--the Lego Star Wars valentines from Target almost gave me a seizure.  I know I'm kind of a Valentine brat, but WOW, $3 just doesn't buy you a licensed cartoon character bedazzled in diamonds anymore, does it?  I'm pretty sure I could have bootlegged these babies off the Internet and printed them onto cardstock in various shades of pink, and maybe scalloped the edges.  Scratch that--I DEFINITELY would have scalloped the edges, and embellished them in some kind of cool and not-widely-used font (translation: no Comic Sans).  They would have been rad.  


I suppose the lesson here is that I have visions of grandeur and...radness.  And if we are lucky enough to find ourselves in this house we are dreaming of, then I promise to resume my Diet Coke addiction so that I can make it kick ass.  Without painting/altering/damaging any of the actual property.