Y’all will be happy to know that today I went to the store.
And I bought AA batteries.
And I hid them in the VERY DEEP recesses of the kitchen junk drawer. As far as I could pull that sucker out before something inside of it caught and the drawer stuck? Well THAT, people, is where the new package of batteries is at. If the boy finds them, he will immediately, post-haste, without delay grab a screwdriver and walk through the house finding anything and everything that needs a fresh source of stored energy in the form of a small Duracell cylinder.
It’s a sickness.
I wish he would roam the house with a feather duster and take care of some surface issues around here, because PULL BACK THE REIGNS, NANCY! Mama hasn’t dusted in ages! But what she DID accomplish today was putting fresh batteries in her wireless keyboard, and that, my friends, should count for something, especially since the day plum got away from us, and I fed my family McDonald’s for dinner.
I heard y’all gasp.
I’m trying to work up some shame for ordering cheeseburgers for everyone from a window in an establishment that deals with fat and grease and sodium and corn syrup, but I simply can’t. I think it’s because somewhere, between fetching groceries, and teaching kindergarten children to bowl in a gym with plastic bowling pins, and collecting the boy from school, and balancing the checkbook, and realizing that our checkbook balance didn’t turn out as attractively as I had hoped, and getting the boy to and from youth group, something had to give, and I voted for it to be dinner.
Actually, I voted for it to be BOWLING WITH KINDERGARTEN CHILDREN, but then our school’s principal would have voted for MAMA TO NOT GET HER SMALLISH PAYCHECK. And then she probably would have voted Mama right off the school’s island, and where would I be then?
I’ll tell you where.
At Starbucks, on the leather sofa, with a grande, no-water, non-fat, no-whip, please and thank you chai latte.
Come to think of it, maybe being voted off of the school’s island for failing to show up for bowling could be a GOOD THING after all.
Because listen. We did haul out the plastic bowling pins today, and I gave each team six pins. And I taught them to put them in a triangle. Three pins in the back row. Two pins in the middle row. One pin in the front row. We practiced it. And we practiced it again. And then I turned them loose in teams of three kids each, to bowl against one another, and to reset their own six pins back up when they fell.
And we had six pins in a straight line. And we had two pins in left field and four pins at home plate. And we had two pins in the hands, banging them together like cymbals in a high school marching band. And we had pins thrown across the gym. And we had pin stealers, who quietly approached other bowling camps and swiped a pin, so that they could have SEVEN pins for their game. And we had bowling tattle tales, who marched up to me with fists clenched and fire in their eyes and yelled out, “He took THREE turns rolling the ball at the pins, and we’re only supposed to take TWO TURNS!” And in the end, I simply sat down on the bench along the side of the gym and let my eyes glaze over, as I thought about the small fact that I could have chosen a career making cheeseburgers at a fast food restaurant for over-worked, super-tired mamas to feed to their families, and I wouldn’t ever have to deal with six bowling pins aligned improperly.
(Yes. My OCD did indeed kick in when I saw six bowling pins in a straight line, after we had PRACTICED AND PRACTICED AND PRACTICED our triangle formations.)
(Yes. I realize that OCD in a gym full of kindergarten children is a dangerous disease to suffer from.)
(Thankfully, kindergarten PE is exactly thirty minutes long.)
(Which is twenty-four minutes more than I can usually take it.)
And now I hope y’all understand why we had cheeseburgers for dinner tonight.