I have no words left tonight.
I know that Hubs is going to read this post later, and then he’s going to give me a sideways look from his iPad and say, “You? YOU have no words left?”
It’s almost as bad as saying that I have no thoughts. On Sunday, when the Denver Bronco game was completely UN-TELEVISED in Small Town, USA and Hubs was pacing the house, contemplating a full-on mental breakdown, we turned the game on in the Suburban. Please don’t think that we actually went outside to the Suburban with the lone intention of listening to the game on the radio there, because of TOO MUCH WORK. And WHO REALLY CARES THAT MUCH ABOUT THE GAME ANYWAY? But we were busy shuffling the boy to the ice rink and heading to the roller rink ourselves, so that we could hold hands under the disco ball during the Couples’ Only skate. And while that game was going on over the radio waves, Hubs looked at me and asked, “What? What did they just say? How many yards?”
That’s when I shook my head and realized that he was talking to me, and I said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening to the game; I was very busy thinking.”
Hubs was floored. He laughed out loud. And then he assured me that he has NEVER, EVER, NOT ONE SINGLE TIME IN ALL OF HIS YEARS been busy thinking.
Because he blanks his mind out and fall asleep in exactly four seconds.
Poor Hubs. His empty thought life must be so boring.
But then… maybe it’s refreshing not to be running simultaneous thoughts on planning out your week’s lesson plans for PE, wondering how THAT ONE KID is going to do in this FAST-PACED GAME, because SWEET MERCY, she is overwhelmed with everything in the gym, and just wants to put on her Dora the Explorer backpack and call her mom for an early pick-up time, and trying to remember what day your manicure appointment is on and wondering who can watch Thing 2 for an hour that morning, ALL AT THE SAME TIME.
And that was only HALF of what I was thinking.
And so I guess that I had SOME words, but mostly my words today have all been used up, and I have nothing to write about.
(Which, of course, has never stopped me before.)
I think that I simply used up all of my words today as I said, “No cat food!” and “No books!” and “Don’t pull the books out of Mama’s bookcase!” and “Quit eating the cat food!” and “You can’t have the books!” and “Dadgumit! Leave the cat food alone!” and “Mama will put you in your crib if you can’t quit yanking my books off the shelf!” and “How many pieces of cat food are in your mouth right now?”
I did a lot of talking today.
And, in hindsight, I guess that Thing 2 eating the cat food all day today is better than him eating my Scentsy wax, which is what he did yesterday.
Oh, yes… he did. He loves to yank the packages of Scentsy waxes out of the baskets and litter my floor with them. He actually loves to do this one hundred and fourteen times every day. And then I pick them all up. And I do that one hundred and fifteen times every day. Last night, he apparently popped the top off the Sugar Cookie wax, and he took a bite.
I should be relieved that all he ate today was cat food.
And that he only tried to freshen his breath with a sprig of fresh pine off the Christmas tree once today. Apparently, cat food has an aftertaste that needs to be attended to.
And with that said, I’ll let y’all off the hook tonight. I’m officially done with all the typing, unless you want to hear about one of my all-time CAN HARDLY HANDLE IT AT ALL situations.
I’ll tell you. It’s when I dismiss my first graders from PE straight out the school’s front doors to recess. They all clamor to get out of their gym shoes and into their coats and gloves, and I CAN HARDLY HANDLE IT AT ALL when one of them hands me a WET GLOVE and asks, “Can you help me put this on?”
Because wet gloves? In the first grade? It’s not always the snow from an earlier recess that made them that way. Nope. A lot of the time it’s first-grade SPIT that made them that way, because first graders are flat-out notorious for carrying winter gloves in their mouths.
Just typing the story makes me want to shiver and puke all over again.
Y’all have a happy Tuesday night.