Half-Mornings

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, my three-year-old hyperactive Monkey goes to preschool.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays she has appointments with her psychologist and speech therapist, respectively.  That means that on M, W, and F I have something of a 'free' morning, as I am only caring for one child, our four-month-old son, Mr. Bean.  Of course, these are not their real names, but tend to be the monikers I use on a daily basis.  Lucky children, as they actually do have proper names, and I have no doubt there are actual children out there in this world that have the names Monkey and Mr. Bean listed on their birth certificates.

On Mondays, our lovely cleaner comes to the house for two hours to do the tidying I can't ever seem to get motivated to get around to.  At this time, I usually wander down to the vegetable and fruit store, as well as the grocery to pick up odds and ends that we didn't grab on the big Saturday grocery run.  I have only a double stroller, and feel a bit silly dragging it out with only Mr. Bean occupying the back seat (and we have big hills, and I don't particularly enjoy pushing that monster up the hill back home when it is fully loaded with produce).  I love the fruit and veggie store, as it is full of fresh, cheap options and friendly South Americans.  They couldn't quite get the Visa machine to work today, and allowed me to carry my veggies home and return with cash.  That is one of the nice things about living in a small town.

Not so nice is that fact that there are absolutely ZERO ethnic restaurants within the city limits.  Catalan cuisine as far as the eye can see.  Of course, we do have a Wok restaurant.  But that fine dining experience deserves its own post.  Maybe tomorrow.

Right now, I must get to eating my golden kiwi and Activia and squeezing in a nap before the Monkey wakes up and my Half-Morning 'free' comes to a close.