The kids have adjusted to their new fall schedule just fine. I, on the other hand, am still trying to get the hang of it. I'm realizing that if I keep the car gassed up and the keys close by, I can usually fulfill my daily duty as the family cab driver. Though each day is different, we're always running around somewhere or another.
The other day, however, threw me. I was going to the bathroom and realized in a panic that the house was entirely too quiet. What this usually means is that the three year old is into something. Just before frantically zipping up my pants and going through the house in a mad search for the trouble maker, I caught myself, realizing that I had dropped her off at pre-school that morning.
I suppose it's time to quiet my instinctual, maternal spider sense and tell myself: when the house is quiet, it doesn't necessarily mean disaster is looming. Sometimes it actually means a few hours of peace await me!
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