So Thing 2 bounded out of bed at precisely 2:23 this morning, with the enthusiasm and energy of a golden Labrador puppy. He ran to our deck doors and flipped the outdoor lights on, as he shouted out, “Look! It’s snowing outside! It’s totally snowing! This is so awesome!”
And do you know what wasn’t awesome?
Besides the fact that it was 2:23 in the morning?
It wasn’t awesome to a five-year-old to discover that the magic of the season’s first snowfall was, in fact, NOT HAPPENING. He was so distraught, as he kept hollering, “It was JUST snowing! Where is the snow now?! WHERE DID THE SNOW GO???” And that was the moment when I told him about dreams, and how dreams aren’t real, and GO BACK TO BED ALREADY, before Mama loses her mind.
Except, the disappointment of missing out on an August blizzard irked him good and proper, and he asked for coffee and oatmeal.
LIKE HIS MOTHER WOULD GIVE HIM COFFEE AT 2:23 AM.
FOR THE LOVE, PEOPLE!!
I finally got that precious child back to bed at 5:45 this morning, at which time I promptly blacked out in HIS brand-spanking-new, full-sized bed, right beside him. I regained consciousness sometime around 7:15 this morning, and do you know what got me out of bed?
The fact that I could have real coffee, as God intended for it to be made: Straight out of the Keurig, piping hot, and laced with a whole lotta cream and a little bit of sugar. That second Whole30 of mine could not possibly have ended at a better time, as I held that cup of coffee this morning like it was a newborn baby. I snuggled it in my hands and kissed the rim of my cup, like I was kissing newborn hair that smelled of Johnson’s and Johnson’s baby wash, and I sipped it with so much appreciation, I practically needed to stand up and slow clap for it.
No matter what Whole30 finishers tell you about LEARNING TO LOVE THE BLACK COFFEE, it is all completely untrue. Black coffee is awful. Black coffee with coconut milk is mediocre. Black coffee with unsweetened almond milk is one step above boiling mud puddle water and pouring it into a mug.
So that’s how we got OUR day started.
The rest of today was basically a blur, because I shuffled around the house, doing odd jobs… just to stay awake. I was afraid if I sat down, I’d slip into a coma and no one would hear from me for days. Meanwhile, Thing 2 managed to sleep until 9 AM, because HE. WAS. QUITE. TIRED. I LET HIM sleep until 9 AM, because I am not brave enough to poke a hibernating bear in the side. While he slept, I made beds, loaded the dishwasher, folded dry clothes, washed dirty clothes, swept the kitchen floor, and picked up stray Matchbox cars and Nerf gun darts.
And then, somewhere around mid-morning, I took Thing 2 out to the high school’s track, where he promptly ran a half mile to burn up some energy he was experiencing. Apparently, that nap between 5:45 and 9:00 this morning translated into SECOND WIND and HOLD MY SIPPY CUP, MA, AND WATCH THIS! As he came around the track, finishing up his second lap and approaching the half mile finish line, I cheered like a lunatic for him, because our second son appreciates wild applause. Also, I cheered because I had to wake myself up, as I think I’d sort of drifted off into a hypnotic sleep there at the track, standing up on my feet.
He crossed that finish line… half of a mile marathon under his belt… and promptly tripped, wiped out, and took half the hide off of his elbow.
So… you know… THAT went well. The only thing that could make our morning better was the fact that I got to take the Suburban in for an oil change, where Thing 2 and his bloody elbow and I sat in the waiting room, that smells like Valvoline and sweat.
I think y’all will agree that I actually DESERVED the second cup of cream-filled coffee that I had this afternoon, when we got home.
In other news, our church put on a little VBS program for the kids last week. And when I say little VBS program, I really mean that our Baptist church puts on a fun-filled week of Bible learning and games that could literally take home the WORLDWIDE GOLD MEDAL in VBS Olympics.
Not that I’m bragging or anything, because my job was strictly registering kids and checking them in each evening with a smile and a howdy, as they showed up. My contribution was the smallest of small, so I’m not allowed to brag. Just know in your heart that there is no better week of VBS than what our children’s ministries team throws down.
Be still, my heart. It’s what VBS is all about.
Thing 2 got to hang out with some really fun kids all week…
I’m still suffering from PTSD, while Thing 2’s bedroom rug continues to sparkle like a disco ball every single time I turn the light on. Once glitter comes into your house, it’s there until Jesus’ return. It’s use at a church-sanctioned VBS program should be ruled SINFUL.
Every year during VBS, the boy and one of his friends (a girl he has known since kindergarten) end up pulling pranks on one another. They live for this week, as it becomes known as Vacation Bible School and Prank Pulling Week.
They dream up elaborate stunts to pull.
They’re willing to spend money to accomplish their pranks.
They are giddy with secrecy and the success of their tricks.
No prank is considered too small, but the boy usually goes with the motto, PRANK BIG, OR GO HOME.
This summer, his friend created a team of pranksters that would have made the Navy SEALS sit up and say, “She has assembled some top-notch prank pullers. This is a team to be taken seriously.” Her biggest asset became a fourteen-year-old cousin, who shall remain nameless (COUSIN L. IT WAS COUSIN L, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!), who knew how to break into our house when no one was home. She knows the code to the keypad on our front door.
She engaged in BREAKING AND ENTERING… a felony, if you will… in the name of VBS and PPW.
Imagine my surprise when Hubs and I came home from an afternoon out… while the boy was working at the golf course… ALL OF WHICH COUSIN L KNEW, BECAUSE COUSIN L HAD DONE HER DETECTIVE WORK BEFORE SHE COMMITTED THE CRIME OF PUNCHING IN OUR DOOR CODE TO USHER OTHER GIRLS, DRESSED IN BLACK SKI MASKS, INSIDE OUR HOME… to find the boy’s bedroom looking like this:
In case you’re wondering, one thousand, six hundred sticky notes were used (FOR REALS, according to this assembled team of teenage criminals, who had added them all up and kept track), while two hundred balloons were blown up with a pump and tied. I think the amount of pink and purple streamers used could have circled the globe five times… and THEN gone to the moon and back… twice.
The boy’s bed was wrapped in Saran Wrap. It was wrapped so well, it resembled new toys in boxes on Christmas morning, that require screwdrivers and hacksaws to open.
Hubs and I silently waited until the boy came home from work at 9:30 that night. What could we do? Alert him to the fact that we had been burglarized and the only thing destroyed was his room???
So… that was VBS and PPW.
And that’s going to do it for tonight, y’all. In case you didn’t read between the lines, I’m a touch… OH! How do you say this in English?!… EXHAUSTED tonight.
Y’all have a good weekend. May your sleep be good and your coffee be better.