Well, today has been one of those days that won’t go down in the history books as GLORIOUS or AMAZING, because it’ll be filed under ORDINARY DAY IN WHICH THE MUNDANE WAS ACCOMPLISHED.
And by mundane, I mean I actually crawled out of bed at o’-dark-thirty this morning (a solid twenty minutes earlier than normal), because I was scheduled for the first pedicure appointment of the day, and let’s just say that Princess Big Foot didn’t want to expose her ankles and shins with a full month’s worth of hairy growth. The razor and I reacquainted ourselves this morning.
And then I looked in our refrigerator, because I had to come up with something to throw into the boy’s lunchbox, because our child FEARS and ABHORS the school lunches (except for Pancake Day, Taco Day and Chili Day), and knowing that he must eat one throws him into a full-blown panic.
And then he usually calls our house about 11:30 in the morning from the nurse’s office to inform us that IS IT ANY WONDER? HE’S NOT FEELING WELL, AND PERHAPS HE SHOULD COME HOME AND JUST LIE DOWN AND MAYBE WATCH A LITTLE BIT OF TV, AND NO! IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FACT THAT HE FORGOT HIS LUNCHBOX AT HOME AND GREENISH-BROWN SLOP IS ON THE MENU. And listen, people. The Jedi fridge was bare-like before we escaped town for the weekend and nearly lost our lives on the interstates outside of Major Thriving Metropolis, all in the name of exposing our child to culture in the form of AQUATIC LIFE + TIGERS THAT SWIM IN WATER AND THUS MAKE THE AQUARIUM CUT, and you’d think that one of the two responsible adults living on the premises would actually take herself to the grocery store and secure food staples for the family, but apparently she hasn’t seen the need to do that.
It’s because she had everything to whip up a lasagna for dinner last night, so WHY BOTHER WITH THE GROCERY GETTING?
(And by everything to whip up a lasagna with, I mean I had a Stoffer’s in the freezer.)
(Don’t judge me.)
(And don’t roll your eyeballs at me.)
I did find some odds and ends to create a lunch with, that did include yogurt and pears (HEALTHY!), and I sent our kid to school.
And then I had a pedicure, and my toenails are all dolled up with fresh paint, just in time for the cold front that is supposedly moving in. There’s nothing like laying down your cashed-out life insurance policy in exchange for a full-treatment pedicure, just in time for SOCKS SEASON.
And then I came home and did two loads of laundry and scrubbed down a bathroom.
And then I made a grocery list! On paper! With words and everything! It’s all spelled out, letting me know what we need at the store, in case I manage to get myself there before Halloween flies in on its broom.
And then I taught PE, because the principal does tend to raise an eyebrow if I don’t show up for class, leaving her with a lunchroom infested with rambunctious 1st graders who are all shouting out loudly, in unison, “DODGEBALL! DODGEBALL! DODGEBALL!”
We didn’t play dodgeball today. Instead, we played a game that involved me sitting the entire class down and saying out loud, “Listen. If you wear your flip-flops to school on a gym day, put some socks in your backpack for your PE shoes, because I can barely stand the stench that is emanating from the mass shoe tub, where y’all keep your sneakers. It smells like death.”
Have you ever smelled a Nike when a six-year-old girl yanks her BARE FOOT out of it, after she’s run and jumped and run and hopped and run and run and run? Well, there are some smells which are beyond the power of Febreeze.
Lazarus? When he was called out of the tomb by Jesus, after having been DEAD, DEAD, DEAD for three entire days? Febreeze wouldn’t have helped THAT stench. And a tub of sneakers that have suffered the wrath of sweaty bare feet, without a sock barrier to help with Foot Sweat Absorption? Well, let’s just say that Lazarus probably smelled a titch BETTER.
After the PLEASE BRING SOCKS FOR THE DAYS YOU WEAR YOUR CROCS speech, I told the kids about our game for the afternoon, which was simply called “Ships and Sharks.” And then I had one fellow raise his hand and shout out, “I have a new boat to play with in the bathtub, and it came with a shark, and the shark’s belly opens up, because he can swallow the scuba diver whole, and then you can yank him back out from the stomach and do it all over again.”
That was followed by, “Hey, Teacher, I have a plastic shark at home, too, and my little brother bit his tail off when he was three.”
And that was paired with, “Teacher, I have sixteen Barbie dolls, and my dad said if I leave one more naked Barbie doll on the floor, he’s going to throw her in the trashcan!”
Fifteen minutes later, we’d wrapped up our discussions on our marine toys and our streaking Barbies, and we played the game that I had written down on my lesson plans for today.
And then I did the same game over and over, with all of my other classes, minus the shark-eating-the-scuba-diver-and-Barbie-diving-in-the-dumpster discussion.
And then I picked the boy up from school.
And then we watched him play soccer. He ran and ran and ran, and he sweat a gob, and he had two — TWO, PEOPLE! — shots on goal tonight, and both of them smacked the goalpost. But, the boys won, 5 to 2, and they all wore socks.
For the Foot Sweat Absorption.
And then we dropped the boy off at the church for youth group, where it was FAMILY NIGHT. Family Night, people. And we had NO STINKING IDEA, because we plum missed last week’s youth group and the Family Night Memo, what with Cousin W turning twelve and having Jimmy John’s sandwiches for the entire extended family. So, regardless, the boy went to youth group anyway, and Hubs and I told him, “Listen. Find another family. Sit with them. Use your manners. Ask if they’ll add you to their Christmas list this year, because WE have a date planned.”
Because yes! Hubs and I really DID have a date planned. We had Pa on the pick-up carpool from youth group, and the boy had a bag packed to spend the night with his grandparents, because of DATE! DATE! DATE!
And yes! I felt guilty driving off from the church, leaving the boy ALONE on Family Night, and I even texted Kim to ask, “Do you think I can still make it into Heaven for this?”
I just hope that whichever family adopts the boy this evening will have a refrigerator full of groceries at home, due to a Responsible Mother living on the premises.
She’ll probably turn out to be the sort who made her lasagna from scratch this week, too.
Happy Wednesday night.