"Be blessed," she said.

What, what?  The baby is getting on the bus.  I KNOW.  I don't even know what to think about this.  He is a 7 (AND A HALF) and has never been on a school bus, well, except for field trips, in his life.  This morning, I think we were both a little anxious, standing on the corner.  The bus driver - and we'll circle back to this - was all cheerful and smiley as she showed him to his seat.  Then I went for a run.  Like a boss.  Because I can, and because, well, why not.  I wasn't late to work.  Four minutes is not late.

Let's talk about the bus driver.  This is the weirdest fucking thing ever.  When Sam was growing up - hell, when I was growing up, there was no telling who the bus driver was.  I'mma call her Mamie.  But seriously.  Our bus drivers were cranky old hags, some of whom chain smoked (I'm not 100% sure that last part is true, but it feels right).  For SURE Sam never knew a bus driver's name.

When I went to the school to fill out "we've moved!" paperwork and inquire about the school bus for the baby, they happily filled out paperwork for me, and handed me a yellow slip that said his bus number and where he catches the bus.  Then they told me to CALL THE BUS DRIVER to figure out details.  WHAT?

Let's recap:  they gave me the bus driver's personal cell phone number.  WHAT?

I called her.  She was sunshiney and rainbowy and adorable.  I want to hire her to be MY personal chauffer.  After we talked and she told me process, I was all, "well... thanks..." and she was all "OH MY GOODNESS YOU ARE SO WELCOME I'M HERE FOR YOU."  And then, when I said goodbye, she countered with "be blessed," I shit you not.

This morning she was heaping praise on my small child, and I went about my way to sweat off a couple of hundred calories and jump start my day.

It was totally fucking outstanding, except the part where the same garbage men were doing opposite circles and I had to pass them about three times, every time they gave me the sexy flirty eyes.  No thanks, bra.  I'm good.

So, to recap the weekend, we have the following:  first kids coming to play in the playroom with the baby, which is to say, kids that are not related- check.  first kids finding a snake in the backyard, but it "might have been a worm" - check.  Cable installed, taking a grand total of 8 hours and two technicians, one of whom I gave birth to over 20 years ago - check, except in the playroom, which has proven to be impossible to install cable into, for reasons I cannot explain.  Furniture purchased, assembled, sat upon - check.  The one remaining wall where I just didn't do a great job painting it the first time, touched up - check.  Bourbon and water drunk - check, except it smelled better than it tasted, and I bailed about 1/3 of the way through, but dayum, I felt like a grown up.  First night by myself in the house, as the baby spent the night with friends - check (likewise, first NO PANTS SATURDAY NIGHT- check.)

I skipped all the parades this weekend, but it was a great weekend, regardless.  I'm kind of loving my home.  Eventually I'll have the time to rake the front yard, but strides were made.  We have hand towels, people.  HAND TOWELS.

And I am pretty much being blessed.