Days 9 & 10: Sandwiches, Sobbing and Sleepovers

I'm not gonna lie, Day 9 and 10 make me feel like a bit of a slacker...

A beautiful new friend of mine treated me to lunch and the privilege of knowing her story.  Telling your story is really scary.  It's weird how giving those sacred pieces of yourself to someone can make you feel so vulnerable and exposed, but also somehow really free.  It is a gift to share your story with someone, and it is equally a gift to have someone take the time to hear your story.  To be heard and known is one of the great human desires, I believe. So, in that way, I think Day 9 was a total success.  We mutually, slid our sacred bits of story offerings across the table to each other. Then we cried. Then we stuffed our feelings with enormous messy sandwiches.  And also bread pudding.

Then I dropped some clothing and toy donations off at the V.O.A. for her because not only is she sweet and fearless and beautiful  and can eat a sandwich like a boss  but she is tough enough to run until her legs break. Okay, technically it is just the one leg, and I am pretty sure it is the ankle... but it is a true story that her ankle was not broken, and then she ran it broken.  So, she can't drive.  So, I delivered her #AdamsActs for her.  This inspired me to go through some of our toys and clothes and donate  stuff they outgrew one hundred years ago  a respectable, non-embarrassing amount of stuff as well.

For Day 10, I bought some candy bars from my step-goddaughter (long story), named Macey.

I mean, what kind of step-godmother would I be if I didn't buy my favorite candy in support of her musical theatre class? As tempting as it was to just eat all the Reese's by myself, I decided to give a couple away to the hardworking employees of Panera.  The vacuuming guy gave a nice smile and seemed to appreciate it, and the smoothie maker was a little busy to care, but I am pretty sure that tonight, she will cry herself to sleep due to her overwhelming gratitude.  Or she'll just eat the candy.  

I was at Panera because I meet with some of my favorite people once a month for a book club.  Which brings me to my husband's act of kindness.  It's hard with that one, because he just starts out so much kinder than me, that my feeble attempts pale in comparison.  For example, I didn't just go to book club and hand out candy... I abandoned Tom to man a 9-child sleepover all by his lonesome.

7 little girls and my two sons, all ten and under.  Alone.  In the words of my friend Courtney, "he is practically a prophet."  I think she meant saint, but let's be honest... manning a sleepover of 9 kids must be a requirement for both sainthood and prophetdom.

If it weren't super obvious that he was selfishly overseeing the sleepover for the age old slumber-party-overseer glory, I'd give him that last Reese's.  But... he's gotta learn.