The Part Where I Cry, “Uncle!”

I know.

I was in the middle of a big story.  Except I wasn’t even to the middle part yet, because I had used two thousand words to just get the beginning part started.

It’s exactly like real life, because THE DISTRACTIONS!  I am a victim!  Last night, though, the boy had a double-header dodgeball game, which has become the story of my life.  The boy is quite passionate about dodgeball, as every testosterone-owner is, because they love to throw things and hit people.  We girls missed out on that genetic wonderment, because we’d be all, “Oh!  I’m SO SORRY!  Did I hit you with the ball?  Here.  Let me help you get your hair straightened back up and your dropped purse repacked.” 

I think that’s why the Navy would never have drafted me.  That and the fact that I simply couldn’t have been quiet on secret SEAL missions, which would have given our hiding spots in the tall swamp grasses away and made my teammates gouge their own eyes out.

But yes.  In real life, I will start to tell Hubs something and then, “SQUIRREL!”  And I’m onto a new topic, and Hubs’ head is spinning with the immediate direction change, and he only pretends to keep up.  He simply wants to tell me that I don’t try to hide my crazy; I invite my crazy up onto the deck for a cocktail.

But the dodgeball.  The boy plays two games, every single night, four nights a week, for three weeks.

Kick.  Me.  Now.

And because Hubs and I are some of THOSE parents, we do like to go watch our boy do whatever it is that’s going on at the moment… golf games, band concerts, soccer games, dodgeball games.

But listen.  Watching a game at 4:00 and another one at 5:30, and then scrambling home to get dinner going, and LOOK!  THE BABY HAS SNAPPED AND NEEDS TO GO TO BED RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW, is causing my head to spin.

And I’ll admit, it doesn’t take a whole lot to make my head spin.

Too much caffeine can accomplish that task nicely.

So can walking by a lovely scarf hanging on a display rack in a department store.

And then last night, the boy commandeered my computer for school work, which turned into I’M PLAYING A GAME OVER THE WORLD WIDE WEB WITH PATRICK RIGHT NOW.  I ALSO HAVE PATRICK ON SPEAKER PHONE, BECAUSE HE KNOWS THE CODES TO GET MY COMPUTER GUY WHERE HE NEEDS TO BE.

I’m telling you; I miss the olden days of banana bikes and meeting up at the roller rink, beneath the disco ball, to talk to one another.

After two full dodgeball games last night (which the boy’s team won!), and then rushing home to grill chicken and make mashed potatoes, and then trying to scramble to bathe the vanilla wafer slop off of Thing 2, and hurrying to clean up the kitchen, and then losing my computer to the technologically-gifted boy who knows how to play online games with his friends now, I gave up.

I gave up, and I went to bed at 8:22, while Hubs and the boy sat on the end of my bed and watched something about the Amish mafia on the bedroom’s big screen.

(AMISH and MAFIA are actually two words that I never thought went together, but apparently a band of them has taken the law into their own hands.)

(And, if Honey Boo Boo can have her own reality show, so can the Amish mafia.)

(It should also be noted that it was very difficult to fall asleep, while “Levi” [if that IS his real name] was out to break someone’s knee caps because he sideswiped one of the Amish girls’ buggy in his Toyota.)

(Also, I don’t think Levi was carrying a violin in his violin case.)

Tonight has proven to be no different, because of TWO DODGEBALL GAMES, and DID WE REALLY PAY $20 IN SIGN-UP FEES TO SIT IN THE GYM ALL NIGHT, FOUR NIGHTS A WEEK?  Apparently we did, all in the name of fun.

And goodness!  The boy’s team is having a big mess of fun in dodgeball right now.

And that, people, is a whole lot of words to tell you that I’ve still got to clean the kitchen up after making a casserole for dinner tonight, and then I’ve got to attend a parent meeting with our youth pastor, because the boy has decided that he’d like to go on a trip with his youth group in February, and all of this ultimately means that I can’t access the part of my brain that is capable of writing serious stories, because the nonsense section of my brain is in full-on, go-for-it mode right now.

So the miracle of Thing 2’s adoption story will have to be delayed.

SQUIRREL!

Y’all have a happy Wednesday evening, and, if I manage to organize myself tomorrow, I’ll pick up with Part 2.

Right after I sit through another dodgeball double-header.

1 thought on “The Part Where I Cry, “Uncle!”

  1. Oh my goodness! I just heard about the Amish mafia show tonight! And girlfriend, God has always, ALWAYS had great plans for you!!! Keep plugging on with the story. We need more stories of faith and I love your writing. YOU ROCK! And so does Hubs, and The Boy, and Thing 2. You are One.Good.Egg. Your family is a blessing!

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