(Not) Wordless Wednesday: Why I Love Wednesdays

salad

See this? This is why I love Wednesdays.

I know this is supposed to be “wordless” Wednesday, but let me explain.

I have a standing date with Anthony and his “cardio kick” class at the Y every Wednesday night at 5:30. Pat knows he needs to be home by 5:15 on these nights so I can make it.

He usually gets home on time, but I’ve rarely had the chance to change into my workout clothes, so I’m often late. I usually make it by the end of the warm up. And then there’s 40 minutes of kicking and jabbing and jumping and burpee-ing and basically looking like a total fool. (True story: I once punched myself in the face with an enthusiastic uppercut.)

It’s a hard class. By the end, I’m pouring sweat and panting. I am often convinced I’m having a stroke on the drive home.

But still. It’s almost¬†an hour to myself.

And then comes the best part.

By the time I get home, Pat has fed the kids – usually fake chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries and frozen peas – and already has them upstairs in the bath and/or getting their pajamas on.

And they don’t know I’m home.

For dinner, I always make myself a “kitchen sink” salad: lettuce and dressing with some sort of veggie burger on top and then any random vegetables, croutons, seeds, nuts, etc. we may have lying around.

Sometimes, like on the salad pictured here, I actually throw the kids’ leftover fake chicken nuggets (I like the Quorn ones best) and peas and, heck, even the fries, onto the salad.

And then comes the best part. I sit at the table ALL ALONE and eat my salad. And read the newspaper. And it is heaven.

At least for a few minutes. After a few bites, someone realizes I’m home. First I hear little feet pounding down the stairs, and then Rory comes skidding across the kitchen floor in footie pajamas demanding lettuce, and Noah runs in and climbs onto my lap to interrogate me about where I’ve been.

And that part’s pretty nice, too. But man, that alone part is really something.