St. Pat's Season

I'm thinking about going over to Moo and printing a bunch of cards that simply say "I'm so sorry."

It's St. Pat's Season. I am now suddenly and without warning incredibly busy.

This is not the most opportune time, for instance, for Mike's company to decide to move offices. But they are.

This is not the most opportune time for a 504 evaluation meeting but of course now all of a sudden the school is ready to get it done after 3 months of asking.

This is my 3rd St. Pat's Season. My first, I broke a tooth and somehow got lost in Dogtown (non-St. Louisans: the traditionally Irish neighborhood, where the Irish who had the means to flee the slums went a century ago). My second St. Pat's Season, last year, I had thrush, Mike's brother got married, I had a 6 week old baby and had to curl two girls' heads' of hair after the wedding and reception in the middle of the night.

This year looks like it will not be as bad as last year--I don't have thrush, and that alone, I mean, if you've never had it, imagine lighting a match and letting it burn your finger for a solid 15 seconds. Now imagine your finger is really your nipple and it's not 15 seconds but however long your baby needs to eat. Every time.

So that alone makes this a better year. But Mike is super busy with work, Leo is reaching a "I'm afraid to be put down on the ground to play where did Mommy go" phase, and I'll still have to curl two heads of hair for the parade. And Sophia is in a lot of shows during the season coming up.

But this is why we do this. Mike asked what would happen if he had to work the weekend of the 12/13th in order to get the office ready to go, and I kind of laughed into the phone. "Would it be up there with missing Christmas and Thanksgiving?"

I thought for a moment. "Add Triduum in there, and St. Pat's comes in 4th."

"Ok," he said with a sigh. But we both knew he had to do it. And it's ST. PAT'S SEASON so let the beer flow and laugh and laugh and laugh and get the damned thing done.