I thought it was going to be more stormy. Or at least one of those all-day rains. So it was a pleasant surprise when Saturday turned out to be, well, pleasant. I ambled through the Farmer's Market. Put petunias in my planters. Ready my book on the deck. Took an hour-long walk.
All in all, a pretty good day. But also, all in all, nothing like it was supposed to be. And I'm not talking about the rain.
Here's what I was supposed to be doing on Saturday:
I was supposed to be picking up the rental chairs. Taping cheap plastic tablecloths to the resin tables in the backyard. Sprinkling metallic 2020 confetti on the cupcake table.
I was supposed to be filling a cooler with ice and making sure the root beer keg was in the shade.
I was supposed to be watching the sky and freaking out about whether the rain was going to hit between 1 and 3 p.m. I was supposed to be kicking myself for not renting a tent, and trying to convince myself that a thunderstorm would make a good story later.
I was supposed to be exhausted from staying up too late the night before to finish Bergen's picture boards -- attaching sweet and funny and charming photos of him from kindergarten and fourth grade and middle school to giant sheets of foam core.
I was supposed to be delegating jobs to the nieces and nephews who'd traveled hundreds of miles to fill our house -- asking Ben to hang the paper lanterns under the deck and Gracie to put the Giant Jenga in the backyard.
I was supposed to be sending older son Christian to the store for the balloon order -- the blue and gray bunch for the mailbox, and the massive, metallic 2020 for the backyard.
I was supposed to be watching Bergen greet family and friends and neighbors and teachers. Watch him shake hands and give hugs and feel the love.
Of course, things went a little differently than planned. The "up north" family didn't drive down. The balloons are still in the store. The open house was canceled.
This is no pity party. I mean, it's disappointing for sure -- we've been looking forward to celebrating this kid's graduation all year. But Bergen's rolling with it. He understands why it's not wise to gather his favorite people together in one space right now.
We'll still celebrate his milestone. We'll have our own little family party -- maybe some cake, maybe even a balloon or two -- after Bergen's drive-through diploma pick-up at Century on Friday.
I've already asked Christian to get Pomp and Circumstance queued up to play on our car speakers as we wait in that line. So, despite all the changes to this year's graduation, there's at least one thing that will be the same: I'll still be a blubbering mess.
All in all, a pretty good day. But also, all in all, nothing like it was supposed to be. And I'm not talking about the rain.
Here's what I was supposed to be doing on Saturday:
I was supposed to be picking up the rental chairs. Taping cheap plastic tablecloths to the resin tables in the backyard. Sprinkling metallic 2020 confetti on the cupcake table.
I was supposed to be filling a cooler with ice and making sure the root beer keg was in the shade.
I was supposed to be watching the sky and freaking out about whether the rain was going to hit between 1 and 3 p.m. I was supposed to be kicking myself for not renting a tent, and trying to convince myself that a thunderstorm would make a good story later.
I was supposed to be exhausted from staying up too late the night before to finish Bergen's picture boards -- attaching sweet and funny and charming photos of him from kindergarten and fourth grade and middle school to giant sheets of foam core.
I was supposed to be delegating jobs to the nieces and nephews who'd traveled hundreds of miles to fill our house -- asking Ben to hang the paper lanterns under the deck and Gracie to put the Giant Jenga in the backyard.
I was supposed to be sending older son Christian to the store for the balloon order -- the blue and gray bunch for the mailbox, and the massive, metallic 2020 for the backyard.
I was supposed to be watching Bergen greet family and friends and neighbors and teachers. Watch him shake hands and give hugs and feel the love.
Of course, things went a little differently than planned. The "up north" family didn't drive down. The balloons are still in the store. The open house was canceled.
This is no pity party. I mean, it's disappointing for sure -- we've been looking forward to celebrating this kid's graduation all year. But Bergen's rolling with it. He understands why it's not wise to gather his favorite people together in one space right now.
We'll still celebrate his milestone. We'll have our own little family party -- maybe some cake, maybe even a balloon or two -- after Bergen's drive-through diploma pick-up at Century on Friday.
I've already asked Christian to get Pomp and Circumstance queued up to play on our car speakers as we wait in that line. So, despite all the changes to this year's graduation, there's at least one thing that will be the same: I'll still be a blubbering mess.