suburban soccer mom of a different kind

This is fun. I'm completely becoming a suburban soccer mom. There are still a few kinks in some of the key soccer mom areas, but we’re working on it.

My kids are overjoyed to live somewhere with pavement. Last night all three were on their bikes, I was in my cool running gear, iPod in place, dogs on leashes, jogging happily behind them. A couple of issues: first, I have to carry an epi-pen in my running bra in case I stop breathing (if ever there were a good excuse not to exercise, then physical activity induced anaphylactic shock is it) and the pen doesn't much like to stay put so I spent half my time reaching down into the bra putting it back in place. Second, one of my dogs is a mini-dachshund, and she's not particularly fit, so after the first few blocks we had to put her in my son's backpack (head hanging out happily). Last, apparently this activity is a little bit pied-pipery, because as we went, neighborhood kids joined us so that by the end I was running with my three kids on bikes, twin 7-year-old boys on scooters who live two streets over, the 12 year old neighbor who has a pool in his back yard (be nice to him!), my two dogs and two stray dogs.

This morning, I decided to walk Ellie to school after dropping off the boys at their schools. Apparently, one is supposed to "dress" for the walk to school. I made the mistake of walking her to school in flip-flops, plaid pajama pants, and a white t-shirt, hair piled haphazzardly on top of my head, sunglasses and iPod in place. Apparently this outfit has opposite effects on children than on adults. While the moms, who were all dressed in khaki walking shorts, white canvas tennis shoes and Izod or Polo shirts (not a Fountains of Wayne concert tee among them) were sending furtive, worried glances in my direction, wondering if I was hungover, or worse, a single mom. Conversely, the kids all wanted to talk to me. I guess I just have that, relate-to-eight-year-olds vibe because although I tried turning the volume on my iPod up to ear-splitting level, to indicate the desire not to speak, still the kids wanted to know where we'd come from, what I was listening to, why we had so many pairs of skis, and what kind of dogs those are. Ugh, I need coffee.

Which leads to me spending my day sitting at Starbucks trying to find a new way of complicating my order. It's fun! Right now I'm enjoying a venti, half-caf, double-foam, triple shot, skim caramel Americano with a sprinkle of cinnamon, a shot of raspberry flavoring and whipped cream. It's gross, but I'm drinking it because I want to order something else next. I'm trying to trip up my barista, Monica, so that she stops with her Sharpie in mid-stroke and looks up astounded to say, "Huh, that's the first time I've ever heard of that." Do you think they'll blend lettuce into my Mocchiato if I ask?