This weekend my watch battery died. At first I was really disconcerted — I’m not exactly obsessed with knowing the time, but as a mom I find it a little easier to handle our daily rhythms if I know where we are in the day.
There have been times in my life where I didn’t have to wear a watch, but right now I am beholden to picking up and dropping off, waking and bedtimes. Our wall clock died an ignominious death on our cross-country move, and we haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.
I discovered my watch was dead when Anthropapa brought SillyBilly home from the Pi/Einstein Day event and the grocery store. Papa mentioned that he thought I’d have dinner ready by then, as it was 6:30 and we usually start getting the kids ready for bed at 7. I was shocked — wasn’t it just 5:15?
The next morning Napoleona and I went to church. How would I know what time it was when the service was over? Um…why does that matter? Why can I not wait the 2 minutes before I can start up the car and check the time there? Hmmmm…maybe I am a bit obsessed.
Overall this weekend had a nice quality, even though both kids weren’t feeling that great and took whining to a new level. Time slipped by so easily! The kids made little bark and stick houses for their wooden squirrels, painted, drew maps, and helped set the table and make my bed. I did a few minutes of proofreading here and there, we listened to some fairy tales and silly stories on podcasts, and I finally started work on my native plant flower fairies (woo hoo!).
The pièce de résistance? This afternoon we all took a three-hour nap. Aaaaaahhhh.
Maybe I won’t get that watch battery replaced just yet.