I think the stomach bug has checked out of the Jedi Manor. My first clue to this perhaps being the case was that the boy was up at 6:15 this morning, whistling in the shower. My second clue was that he asked me if he could have two cookies as a dessert for breakfast. He was insistent that if he ate his entire bowl of cereal, it should be legal to finish out with sugar-laced carbohydrates.
I held firm.
I told him to eat a yogurt for dessert this morning.
Sometimes my mothering skills impress even me.
I am also having issues with a decorative table at our house. (Notice the lack of English-professor-approved transition from one topic to another there. So sue me.) I keep looking at this table, which is currently holding uncarved pumpkins and tin cans with candles in them, and all I can think is, “Sweetheart, you’re looking a little rough, and the time has come to freshen you up with paint.”
Which is probably why I spent the better half of yesterday online, looking at refurbished tables for inspiration. Two hours later, I realized that I’d read the entire internet, and I was feeling good about topping the table with Chevron stripes. Or rather, I was feeling good about saying to Hubs, “Can you tape off zig-zaggy stripes on that table for me?” Because honestly? I’m not sure my sophomore geometry class was adequate training for me to measure out the tape stripes without needing to sit down and pop the cork out of a bottle of wine while I smoke a fat cigar.
I almost tackled the table this morning, while Thing 2 was napping. I knew that I had some leftover gray paint in a closet, and I was all, “Wouldn’t Hubs be surprised if he came home this evening and I’d smacked that chore off of the To-Do list?” And then it dawned on me that all Hubs is really interested in when he comes home is what has been thrown into the oven for dinner. I doubt a striped table would impress him more than a Mexican casserole at 350.
And then I had some issues with all the clutter on my kitchen counters, which was cleverly disguised as legitimate things. That probably explains why I tore through the kitchen yesterday morning with purging intentions that were stronger than any PMS emotion I’ve ever felt. I was after naked countertops. I cleared through the pile of THIS IS MAIL THAT WE DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH and longed for a wood chipper to throw it all into. I moved the Kitchenaide mixer to the pantry cupboard, because I finally came to terms with the fact that Mrs. Fields doesn’t live here, and the mixer never sees raw cookie dough. It was more of a bold statement to house guests that tricked them into believing that I could make a batch of chocolate chip cookies from scratch because I was armed with the gigantic Kitchenaide mixer. So I shoved it into the pantry yesterday, and then realized that I needed it last night because we were having mashed potatoes.
No matter. By the end of the night, I was feeling good about my gloriously naked counters and confident that my decorative table will look a little less shabby soon.
And then pretend that this is a nice, fancy transition sentence, because apparently I have no idea how to write them tonight.
The boy spent the better part of yesterday in bed, moaning about how his gut sounded like a pot of bubbling witch’s brew. I convinced him that he should probably READ HIS BOOK that needs to be finished before Thursday of this week, because he has a test on it at school. The boy looked at me and said, “I only have, like, 133 pages left.” Apparently he felt confident that this stretch goal was completely reachable in the next couple of days. My confidence there was lacking, and so I simply said, “Sleep or read; those are your choices.”
He finished the book last night.
My nerves can completely straighten themselves back out and relax now, because that test on Thursday is in the bag. Now I just need to mentally prepare myself for the small fact that YES! The boy has to read STILL ANOTHER NOVEL for a test at the end of November. Getting him to read is like pushing goats down the interstate.
I have to go look at Pinterest for a few minutes, to make sure I’m completely committed to Chevron stripes.
Y’all behave and have a Wednesday night filled with a bunch of great sleeping.