School's in! I'm back on a regular writing/work schedule and no one had a meltdown yesterday! Everyone made it to school on time, remembered their books for music lessons and ski training was cancelled. By the time I was driving my daughter home from cello lessons I felt like cheering. Or that someone should at least give me a high five. Instead, she asked me to take her to a movie. 
On a school night?! No way. I'm not that kind of mom. So I said no. She asked again. I said no, dad wouldn't like it (and I felt confident saying that, because he was working late and would never know...). But my girl, she just doesn't give up. In a few weeks she'll turn fourteen, and then we can't squeak her in on a child ticket. And who knows when ski training will be cancelled again and we'll have a free tuesday evening? And she's been wanting to see this show for the longest time and I told her she could go. This time, I told her to call dad. And he said YES. 
I called back and (laughingly and lovingly, cause I'm superwoman today) explained that he was supposed to say no, but it didn't really matter at that point, because I was driving, so I had him on speaker. Kids and I were going to the movie, whether I wanted to or not. (The Man From U.N.C.L.E. It's fantastic. I'd already seen in twice. Date night, and once with friends).  Not that I mind seeing it again--handsome men in 60's suits, two great car chases, Elizabeth Debicki flying in a speedboat across a blue mediterranean sea--but you just don't take your kids to movies on the first day of school. 
Except I did. And it was great, except I was right. The universe doesn't let you get away with stuff like that. My youngest, the gaggiest gagger of them all, didn't want to share his popcorn. He sat beside me holding his hand over the top so I couldn't steal any. And then, about half way through, he started wiggling in his seat. 
"My tummy!" he whispered. I knew what that meant. I whipped the (empty) popcorn box under his chin right in time. Not sure, but I think I deserve high fives for that too. Little guy has enough experience puking in public that he's fairly quiet. We bolted out of there before the smell could get too bad, dumped the puke-box in the toilet and my little mister finished clearing his stomach in said suitable porcelain receptacle. Washed up, returned to our seats and I reassured myself with lies--no one could have noticed!
But really, I'm that mom. The one who takes her kids to movies on the first day of school and doesn't leave (or turn a hair, apparently) when one of them throws up.