Do You Know What I Don’t Think About At Dinner? Math. But I Might Think A Little Bit About Pinterest Over My Meatloaf.

Our summer vacation is humming along rather nicely.

Or at least MY summer vacation is.  I can’t speak for the boy, because he’s on the mountain, throwing his socks onto the roof of his cabin, rehearsing elaborate stakeouts to steal the team flags from nearby cabins, and eating all of the junk food I packed for him in the first two days of camp.

(I wasn’t a fan of sending two plastic Walmart bags full of junk food, but listen.  Last year was his first year of sleep-away-for-an-entire-week kind of camp, what with him being a victim of Helicopter Mother Syndrome.  When we showed up last year to check in, the boys were all comparing who had brought what snacks, and a hierarchy bartering system was already being established.  Two Milky Way candy bars were NOT the equivalent of a mini box of raisins in a trade, rest assured.)

(The boy arrived at camp with no junk food last summer, because I do prefer that he ingest things like Vitamin D and fiber and whole grains at least twice every week.  This put him with no trading resources for the whole week of camp, which is kind of like being in Mexico with empty pockets.  This year, I bought the good stuff at Walmart, so that my older boy can be the godfather at camp and rule the bartering system himself.)

(The things we do for our kids.)

With the boy gone, and my house relatively clean, seeing as how I’m trying to stay on task by clearing the kitchen counters off every few days, and Thing 2 taking enormously long naps in the afternoons, because he’s being switched to just one nap a day, whether he likes it or not, I have found myself with a touch of free time.

(Also?  Apparently I feel the need to win some kind of run-on sentence award with that last one there.)

Naturally, I have used my free time very wisely, by getting on Pinterest and developing a new hate for my living room, because there are no throw pillows with navy, chevron stripes.  Nor is there a gray rug.  I feel like this is just my personal testimony to Pinterest, because I can pin away like a mad woman in house slippers, and then I never follow through with any of the ideas that I hoard digitally.

But what has happened is that I’ve taken a liking to painted furniture.  Now I have dreams of painting every end table, coffee table, side table, and dining room table in our house.  Hubs completely agrees with the statement that Pinterest has been called the devil’s website, because it always tends to ruin his weekend goal of doing nothing.

(Hubs’ weekend goals are simple.  He wants to watch marathons of barbecue cook-off contests on TV, without being interrupted.  Unless someone is bringing him a fresh Coke over ice.)

I’m pretty sure, though, that I have a new Project Boy, because I told the boy before he left for camp, “See this little end table in the living room?  How would you like to use REAL PAINT and paint it?  And then you can put chevron stripes on the top of it, by taping off the stripes and painting them a different color.  It’ll take some math for you to get the angles just right, but you just pulled off an A+ in advanced math, so that should be no problem.  You can recruit Kellen to help you.”

The boy was jazzed, because of the words REAL PAINT.  Before, I’ve never let him touch the REAL PAINT, because THINK OF THE MESS.  Plus, he and Kellen are never ones to turn down a mathematical challenge, as evidenced by our conversation the other night at the dinner table.

Me:  “What are you thinking about?”

The Boy:  “What?”

Me:  “You’re staring into space, like you’re deep in thought.”

The Boy:  “Oh!  Well, I think I just created my own math theory, that involves a triangle, and adding numbers together.”

Me:  “You actually spend time thinking about stuff like that?”

The Boy (jumping up to grab a sheet of paper and a pen for a visual demonstration):  “Yes!  Look!  If you put these numbers on the bottom of a triangle, and… (AND THIS IS WHERE I JUST MAKE STUFF UP, BECAUSE HE LOST ME)… add the square root of this to the brother of that and divide by a bushel of potatoes before multiplying by purple ice cream, you’re going to get THIS!  And it’s always going to work!”

Me:  “Migraine!  Migraine coming on!  I need to go to bed!”

I don’t think that taping off chevron stripes on the top of an end table is going to be much of a problem for the boy and Kellen.


I got on Facebook this morning, and there was my friend, Amanda, leaving a comment on my wall that she has decided to try her hand at boiling peanuts.

Because isn’t that what we all dreamed of doing, back in high school, when we finally became adults?

(“Oh, my!  I can hardly wait to go to college, join a sorority, and get myself graduated in a big hurry, so that I can get to a life of boiling peanuts.“)

This wouldn’t have caused my sensors to go on alert, but about this time two weeks ago, Amanda was pickling things.  And also canning things.  And then today she told me that she has started hanging her laundry outside on a real clothesline, and suddenly I don’t know this girl any longer.

She’s making Caroline Ingalls proud, I’ll tell you that.

And I blame Pinterest completely for her downfall into Domestic Farm Girl Diva.

And that is why I think I may need a Pinterest intervention, people.  It’s boiled peanuts and chevron-striped tables this go-around, but next week it might be homemade laundry detergent, stenciling an upholstered chair, and growing wheat grass in adorable pots on the kitchen window sill.

Ain’t nobody got time for that!

2 thoughts on “Do You Know What I Don’t Think About At Dinner? Math. But I Might Think A Little Bit About Pinterest Over My Meatloaf.

  1. So with your new found love of painted furniture, be sure to check out You will never be the same. Glad to see The Boy went on a little vacation…sounds like he needed a break from all that Numbers Schoolin’.

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