On Tuesdays

Sometimes the power goes out and you get creative with breakfast so you don't have to open the fridge. Then you take your boys to school. Then you come home and your girl becomes a tornado because she can't have milk and because there are no shows or candy bars in the morning. Then she has a little potty accident, so you plunk her in the bath for a while. This gives you peace. The power stays off, so you clean toilets. You convince the small person in the tub that she wants to get dressed. She wants to go do work outside because it is so fun to dig! And poke box elder bugs!

You head outside, mow the mountain, trim some bushes, and pull out weeds. She falls down, you hold her. She runs up the driveway trying to make it in to the bathroom, but she misses. She leaves a warm puddle on the welcome mat. Bath #2, abbreviated version. You clean up the piles of plants, come inside and test the light switch. Still no power. You daydream about having an earthquake, "the big one," and your household is not set up for survival without power. You wonder about generators, solar power, and astronaut food. You should really have more canned food stored downstairs. You should buy more water bottles at Costco next time, instead of dark chocolates.

You are hungry. You load up the girl, her baby doll in her baby doll stroller with her baby doll bottle, and drive to get lunch. You sit in the car to eat so your phone can charge, and because your hair is matted to your head. You wish you ordered fries.