You know, just like my normal Friday. Except, you know, the West Wing of the White House.

Yah, so I figure that tomorrow I'll probably do stuff like change India's diaper, make breakfast, help Jordan get dressed, and pretend to Jordan that I'm taking India to daycare because it would be a dagger to his heart if he knew that he was going to school and we were staying home to have an all-day long underwear dance party.

(Or should it be "all-day-long underwear," even though that seems like a lot of hyphens? Because right now it looks like a long-underwear dance party. And neither of us wear long underwear.)

I might make myself some more coffee while I clean up the breakfast detritus, by which time India will likely have pooped, so I'll change a poopy diaper.

And then India and I will do stuff like go on a walk and feed each other Cheerios and spend half an hour taking the top off a container and putting it back on and clapping our hands. Then we'll eat a bit of lunch and smear it in our hair and scream a little while that's being wiped off and then India will hopefully take a nap.

At which point I suppose I'll get cleaned up and put on a suit because I AM GOING TO THE WHITE HOUSE AND I WANT TO SAY IT AGAIN I AM GOING TO THE WHITE HOUSE!

This might just be pure normal for a number of people in Washington, but I myself have never been.

A couple years ago Jordan and I went on a White House garden tour which would've been lovely but for the fact that there's nothing remotely interesting to a toddler about a garden tour except sprinting off to places you are not allowed to go.

But!

Because of your generosity, my fundraising efforts have been way more successful than I ever expected. And as such, I got invited to join a small group of Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk fundraisers and staff to go to the White House for a briefing on administration efforts regarding mental health and suicide prevention issues.

Going to a meeting at the White House apparently often means going to a meeting in the office buildings near the White House.

However!

I got an email today saying, ahem, that "unless some crisis interferes we are now scheduled to have our briefing in the historic Roosevelt Room, in the West Wing of the White House, just steps from the Oval Office."

STEPS FROM THE OVAL OFFICE I AM GOING TO BE IN THE WEST WING STEPS FROM THE OVAL OFFICE AT THE WHITE HOUSE!

Can you tell I'm a little excited?

And after all the violence and double talk There's just a song in all the trouble and the strife You do the walk, you do the walk of life...

Would you like me to walk for someone you've lost? Or someone who struggles with depression?

I don't know if this sounds cheesy or not, but it is a heartfelt offer. This Saturday night I am walking in memory of my dad, and of my uncle. I am walking for friends and loved ones who have struggled, who continue to struggle.

I'm scared and excited about the walk. I've never been in a whole group of people who have survived the suicide of a loved one.

Or maybe I have. But nobody ever talks about it.

Anyway. If you'd like me to walk for someone, for multiple someones, you can leave a name in the comments, or send me an email at lemongloria at gmail.com. You can give me a whole name, a first name, initials, whatever might be comfortable for you.

I'm going to carry a piece of paper of names with me. If it will give you comfort, add a name to my list.

Hugs to all of you.

So if you see me with a dark brown, crumbly mustache, would you please call me out on it?

I was recently reacquainted with Oreos.

How had I entirely forgotten my deep and abiding love of these little round circles of delight?

(And on a side note, my dad used to absolutely love Hydrox cookies. I liked them but didn't have a preference. Do any of you remember Hydrox?)

A few months ago I'd bought those peanut butter Girl Scout cookies from my friend Marta's daughter, and Jordan gobbled them up. And ever after, in his mind, cookies have to have two sides.

I've since given him sham one-sided cookies (read: cookies) and he immediately calls them out as imposters.

"THESE ARE CRACKERS! COOKIES HAVE TWO SIDES!"

So I was at the store and saw Oreos - two sided! Stuff in the middle! and bought them. And then I came home and ate most of them.

Honestly. I've been on this appalling Oreo kick. I've practically been mainlining them. Yikes. That's a terrible vision. I can't even watch when I have blood taken. I definitely woudn't be able to inject Oreos.

But anyway, I have been on this Oreo bender, and it has to stop. I bought them for Jordan and I think he had maybe 10 of them total.

(I initially typed "toadal" instead of "total" and then was all amused with myself. He had to eat them in his hated frog costume and croak in between each one. Toadally. And I do realize frogs and toads are different. Although I don't know how.)

Anyway.

I bought another package, because he kept asking for them and I kept telling him we were out, which was embarrassing but true.

So now Jordan and I share an adoration of Oreos (because who doesn't?), and last night, when he was getting a post-dinner treat, we decided to blow India's mind and introduce her to Oreos.

We gave her one. She looked at it. She turned it over and around. She patted it. It took her a while to decide to pull it apart.

And here I'd like to ask how you eat your Oreos, if you do.

Because they both immediately scraped the white stuff out of the middle and ate that. In fact, India was not much interested in the cookies. We've held off on sweet stuff for her, so I think she sees cookies as kind of a novelty.

I don't remember scraping the white stuff out as a kid, although I think that's what kids do in the commercials. Do most kids do this?

Me, I have never been particularly interested in the white stuff, and the idea of Double Stuff cookies grosses me out.  Actually, mostly I scrape out the white stuff and get rid of it and just eat the cookie. I like to dip it in tea.

I am, however, going on an Oreo detox shortly. Because this is ridiculous.

Been caught stealing, once when I was 5. I enjoy stealing. It's just as simple as that...

Currently a member of the Curious Gang

My Jordan is a sweet boy. He's big and strong for his age, but he still sucks his thumb.

He likes his blankie and snuggling in your lap when you read to him and taking baths with his sister. He hugs his little friends. Whenever he gets near a sandbox or dirt, he immediately begins digging a foundation.

A foundation for what? Just a foundation. Duh.

He smiles a lot, gives kisses, and says things like, "Sleep tight!" to India before she goes to bed. He gets all bashful when we run into the day care woman that he still has a huge crush on.

But.

He's been fighting at school.

The other day I arrived to pick him up and his teacher was putting ice on the start of a huge bruise on his cheek. One of the other boys - his frenemy - had pushed him and he'd fallen into something. And now he has a shiner.

But Jordan does his share of pushing. And hitting. He and this frenemy, who I'll call Duke, like to lay down on the floor and kick each other. They think it's funny. But they get into hitting and pushing and one of them gets hurt. Sometimes there is a third boy in the mix.

Yesterday, however, when I arrived to pick him up, they told me that he hit one of his after-care teachers.

When he does things he knows he shouldn't, and he gets called out on it, he laughs. I think he's embarrassed. But the laughter upset the teacher.

It turns out that she broke up a fight between Duke and him and then Jordan hit her. He's a few months from turning four. He's still a little boy. But he's a big little boy. And he's old enough to know not to hit.

Now, whenever he gets in trouble in school, he has to apologize. It's uncomfortable for him, and he realizes the magnitude of things when he has to look an adult in the eye and say he is sorry for whatever particular thing he has done.

I was originally thinking his little frenemy Duke is a thug, but I now recognize Jordan is just as culpable. He wouldn't behave so badly if he didn't have an instigator, but the fact is that he's still behaving badly, and now on a fairly regular basis.

Yesterday I came to the conclusion that he and Duke, who is a bright kid, get kind of bored, and then they start fighting.

But I also immediately had this vision of Jordan as a teenager stealing cars and setting cats on fire and spray painting gang signs on the sides of buildings.

What do I do to stop this bad behavior?

Wife. Synonyms: helpmate, helpmeet, lady, little woman, madam, missus (or missis), Mrs., old lady, wifey, woman. According to Mirriam-Webster.

So, I've been thinking about polygamy lately. Which makes me feel totally guilty.

Not in the, wow, that would make up for the threesomes I never had in college! kind of way. Or because my wifely demands are such that I feel they should be shared.

No.

It is mainly because I would like to have a wife to exploit. There. I said it. Isn't that awful? She'd be some very nice person who would marry us because she thought we were very nice people, or for whatever reason it is that you get married.

I mean, I know why I got married. And a big part of it was because he is, in fact, a very nice person. And he is a terrific husband and a wonderful father. But he is not a wife.

I want a wife.

Actually, exploit is strong. I want a wife to be home when I can't. I want a wife to make dinner because I hate to, although I don't mind cleaning up. I want a wife for company, and to move the car or to stay home with the kids while I run out to get some groceries or whatever.

I don't need a trophy wife. Particularly because trophy wives, by definition, aren't helpful, right? Just beautiful? No. Definitely not a trophy.

I would like someone cool to  hang out with. Who maybe had similar taste in fiction, so we could talk about.

And you know, I regularly wonder how, how HOW do Mormons manage all those children with no alcohol or caffeine?

Here I should note that I do realize that the polygamous Mormons are in the minority. Even though Big Love made it seem like they were everywhere. Selmer! Selmer! I miss Big Love. I do.

Anyway.

I have, you see, been a single parent for a couple days. Which is not very long in the parenting scheme of life. But India, dollop of delight that she is, feels compelled to scream like her fingernails are being ripped out somewhere between 1:00 and 3:00 am. Every. Goddamn. Night.

And Jordan, my Jordan, who used to sleep until 8 am, now wakes up at 5:45. Because there is so much fun to be had! We need to start having it as early as possible!

The good thing is that Nick sleeps on the side near the door, and also, he's the more fun parent. And so when Mr. Lookin'-fer-Fun arrives and sticks his face one inch from that of one of the sleeping parents, it is not mine.

Nick describes it as a rather disconcerting way to wake up. Eyeball to eyeball.

Jordan woke me up this morning, however, with cars in hand and a plaintive, "Mommy! Where is Daddy? I can't find Daddy anywhere!"

(Uh...Delaware?)

And on top of all of this, Betty gallivanted off to France last week with a childhood friend, one of her North Dakota ladies. They signed up for a week-long tour of Provence, and then booked another week to just hang out.

How delightful does that sound? I want to gallivant off to there!

What I've realized is that while Nick gets home after the kids are in bed, I'm so used to not being alone. My mom and I typically get the kids fed and I get them bathed and then we divide them up for bed.

Even when we don't...I'm not alone. I like not being the only adult at home.

Now, of course I was and am all excited for her to have two weeks in France. Excited and oh, yay, hope she is having so much fun and she should totally relax and come back next week at her leisure and also all, PLEASE COME BACK ASAP I MISS YOU THESE CHILDREN ARE KILLING ME I NEED MY MAMA.

I haven't said that to her, of course. Mainly because we've had no contact. I figure she is having so much fun she does not have time to check in.

And also, she firmly believes that her email lives on her home computer.