Today was a weird compilation of tripping and falling then getting up and sailing through my day. In true Bonnie Dougherty fashion, and in honor of her most entertaining Christmas letter, I bring you my day in numbers:

2-number of times I read "The Gingerbread Boy" to classes at Southminster Nursery School, between 9:15 and 9:35
1- number of classes I stood up, by accident, and will have to bribe with extra good storytelling tomorrow
463- number of times I wanted to pummel Benjamin while I was faking a big smile and reading to preschoolers (he chose to run through the room, drop balls into a wooden Foosball table, then hang upside down looking completely bored as his way of setting an example for the younger kids around him)(he's staying home with Daddy when I read, from now on...period!)
1-number of sewer trucks parked in front of my house, when I got home at 10am, with bumper stickers that said "stoolbus"
150-number of dollars we shelled out this morning to have our sewer pipes cleaned of...something...probably non-sewage related like action-figures or McDonald's happy meal toys.
2-number of "sewer specialists" left to care for my one year-old while my husband fled the house to fetch his dry-cleaning (yes, people, I am married to a blithering idiot, who, at times, makes very poor judgements. his defense, for this momentary loss of sanity, as Sethy stood at the front door screaming "da-da" was that he saw me pulling up in the car and figured that counted for me being home....hmph)
2-number of malls I went to today, ALONE, to look for furry crocs for my five year-old for Christmas
0-number of furry crocs I found
90-number of dollars I spent at the toy-store, fed up with looking for crocs, and figuring that Ben really needs a lot of energy-sucking items, like hockey sticks and plastic-ball-tossing-and-catching-thingys anyway
80-average age of the group of ladies seated next to me at lunch. I ate a yummy spinach salad while eaves-dropping enviously on their cool gift exchange, which, sorrowfully, only yielded things like napkin rings and cheese plates. I silently amused myself with thinking how their luncheon would've gone up a notch with some strip poker cards and a Frank Sinatra blow-up doll in the mix. Oh, well.
25- number of minutes I spent pondering whether or not Tom Cruise is gay, while reading the latest issue of People magazine and having my hair cut. I am so desperate for good gossip- people.
1-number of mothers I called today to make sure their MRI didn't reveal any hidden brain tumors. Shocked, though, I was, to find out that my old lady's brain is perfectly in-tact, given the number of times I chide her about being a certified ding-bat. love you mom.
3-number of hours I spent at Borders this afternoon, reading (can you tell I'm gearing up for some hard days ahead? ah, the lonely life of a business trip widow).
12-number of times Tom called to ask "what's up?" "Coming home soon babe?" "are you reading any books on submitting to your husband?"
0-number of books I read about submitting to my husband
1-number of memoirs about a stripper, that I read, in their entirety, while lounging by the fireplace in Borders.
1-number of babies I flirted with while reading the book about a good-girl turned stripper, turned suburban mom, by the fireplace in Borders. This kid was so adorable. Usually when I get the chance to flee the coop, I don't want anyone under 25 anywhere near me. I couldn't resist this one, though- he just smiled behind his pacifier, and hung out, sauntering back and forth in front of my chair, giggling to himself. My mommy instincts totally kicked in and I totally wanted to pick him up and snuggle. Of course, his father, like some other wayward dads I know, left him to wander the back of the first floor while he read some titillating novel in an aisle about 50 feet away (actually, I think he was in the spiritual section flipping through Bibles, but the other idea sounded funnier).
3-number of kids awake in my house when I arrived home at 8pm
0-number of parents paying attention to those kids when I arrived home at 8pm
1-number of papers I helped to edit on the circulatory system by 8:15
infinite-number of times I thought to myself how lucky I am today.