I’ve always found irony in the statements that we should both celebrate life’s little pleasures, but never sweat the small stuff. Can you have it both ways? Let your happiness ride on a 50% off JoAnn’s coupon, but do not feel frustrated when you have left it at home on the island?

So if I may vent about my day for a bit. It started out so promising. I squeezed into a pair of stretchy jeans that actually matched a shirt I could almost fit into. Not quite, so I wore the mandatory tank underneath. Got the girls out the door in under 3 hours. A new best. And had lunch with just a wonderful friend who is gorgeous without vanity and brilliant without hubris. I find her company refreshing and renewing. We knew each other at a time when life was simpler, and knowing her now inspires me to choose happy.

I then ran over to a far too shi shi jeweler to have my rings resized. Let’s face it ladies, lose all the weight you want, but after two babies, some stuff just ain’t goin’ back to where it belongs. The somewhat snobby lady in the store informed me that my rings had actually been made smaller by mistake at the last resizing, and I’d have to remove my rings and wait 10 days before they could determine my actual ring size. The swelling would have to subside. And perhaps I should suggest to my husband to upgrade my white gold and get some diamonds in my band. And that pretty much did it for me. I politely informed Miss Snobbypants that my rings were platinum and when THE BIBLE indicates a wedding band represents JESUS’ relationship to the church, I don’t think HE CARES IF IT INCLUDES DIAMONDS.

If only I were that pious. The truth be told, I picked out that wedding band over a decade ago at a Haagen Daaz ice cream store. I saw a beautiful mother walk in with kids cut out of cream cheese, wearing a stunning engagement ring with the thinnest, most simple platinum wedding band. And I thought that chic with her waffle cone had real class. So on a rainy day in the Spring of 2003, I walked into Washington Diamond with my stunning engagement ring wearing my favorite icy pink shirt covered in the entire mug of coffee I had spilled on it while in the car, and asked for the thinnest most simple band they had. That’s my life. I try for shi shi, and God steps in to remind me to never put on airs. The first week I moved to Boston, I dressed up and took myself to my first live, professional ballet. Giselle. I was beside myself in anticipation after spending years pining away for talent in my ballet classes. Upon arriving to the theatre, I promptly tripped on my heels, and fell down two flights of marble stairs. Marble is slick, so when I landed, I actually skidded right into the coat check counter. Elegant. I stood as if nothing had happened and checked my coat. Hobbled up the two flights and collected my heels that had flown off my feet, and attended that damned ballet. Hello Boston! Lori has arrived. What’s new Buenos Aires?

I then ran over to my favorite gourmet cooking store to score some long sought-after Panko bread crumbs. To use in a Lump Crab Cake with a Lime and Green Onion Aioli recipe. I don’t even like crab cakes, but this recipe, I adore. The store has gone out of business. Over to the embroidery store to pick up my Vera Bradley backpack I had embroidered with the girls initials. They used the wrong font. Not just a little wrong. Like it looks like an old man’s handkerchief wrong. I crossed the street to get Pooh paper for Avery’s birthday present. What I found was the rack once containing Pooh wrapping paper, now sold out. Did I piss off Karma this morning?

I then picked up Sara and stuffed her with chocolate, and returned home, wishing I could put her on auto pilot and drink a beer, put on some sweats, eat Doritoes for dinner, and abdicate all sense of responsibility. Yeah. You can’t call in sick to parenthood. So I laid out some paints, which Sara got everywhere. Let her play in the sink, which she then got so wet that she slipped off the stool. And she wouldn’t eat her Taco Soup. Why should she? It sucked. Even after I stuffed it with corn chips it was sub par.

Greg got stuck in traffic, missed dinner, and came bursting in with a surprise for me. A surprise? Did I earn stickers on my reward chart? There, in his hands, was a jumbo bag of Panko bread crumbs. And for $3, my faith in the universe was restored. Life is good again. Isn’t that all we really want? For someone to know us so well, that they know our little things? He then looked over at my backpack and remarked, “Wow. That doesn’t look like anything you’d pick out.” YES! It doesn’t! THANK YOU!

We took the girls outside to play, and saw the most beautiful pink sunset. Don’t get gooey. Sara watched it with a finger up her nose, and Kelly cried in my lap. But I’ve got a bag of Panko. And Greg will always make me laugh about my backpack that should have been men’s cufflinks…and these things? These are my little things. The universe will have to try again tomorrow, because today is Lori-2, Karma-0.