I sat in a room today.  All day.  Me.  My guitar.  A lap top.  All day.  I was writing songs, or trying to, and unable then to hang out with my kids much at all.

But yesterday was different.  Becky cooks dinner on Mondays.  Let me explain, because this is the beauty of my neighborhood.

There are five families in what we call the cult-de-sac co-op, four in Brian’s cul-de-sac and then us – we’re on a cul-de-sac behind Brian’s house that’s less culinary (actually, just less vegetarian).  Every family in the co-op cooks just one night in five.  They cook for their own family and the other four.  If it’s not your night to cook you sit in Brian’s front yard, talk to the neighbors, and watch more than a dozen kids go nuts till dinner’s hand delivered to you in tupperware and tin foil.

Now, yesterday was Monday, Becky’s night to cook.  On Mondays I watch the kids while Becky goes grocery shopping in the morning for the big meal to come.  Then I’m also in charge all afternoon while the feast is being prepared.  I get a window from about eleven to one in the afternoon to check e-mail, blog and answer nature’s call – often all at the same time.

Yesterday, while Penelope (18 months) napped, Gabriella (5) and Gresham (4) and I made CDs of their favorite songs to pass the time.  Paula Abdul, High School Musical, All American Rejects, Snow Patrol, Jackson Five, Katrina and the Waves, Death Cab…you know, good music.

Then after nap, instead of walking over to Uncle Brian’s street, Gabriella and Gresham wanted to have a dance party on ours.  The school bus arrived just as we walk outside, the cul-de-sac filled up with kids, and soon so did my car – doors open, stereo cranked, hands in the air, white man’s overbite.  At one point I counted eight kids.  Eight kids, twelve songs and one Maxima.

Sweet party.

Can’t wait until next Monday.  Until then, more lap top, guitar and silent hours of head scratching searching for the perfect rhyme…in hopes of making it on my kids’ next mix disc.