The Whistler Blower And Our Weekend

Instead of doing important things, like laundry and fetching groceries so that my family has something to eat that isn’t Lucky Charms, I spent most of Friday morning hopping through an online, blog tour of homes that were decorated for Christmas.  What I learned is that there are plenty of women out there who have been abundantly blessed with the ability to make wreaths out of pom-poms and coffee filters, and who can create a Christmas-y dining room that’s straight off the pages of a home decorating magazine.

I may have said, “My word!” and “Would you look at that?!” and “Amazing!” more times than I could count, while I went through three (!!) cups of hot chai tea.  And don’t worry about Thing 2.  While Mama was busy gasping over all the fantastic home tours on her computer, the toddler was at the Baby Einstein Preschool for Toddlers.

That’s a fancy way of saying that I propped the Samsung tablet up on a chair, gave Thing 2 a Tupperware dish full of Goldfish crackers, and had him watch an episode of LET’S LEARN OUR SHAPES WITH DANCING PUPPETS!

(He can recognize a circle, an oval and a triangle ANYWHERE, so I think his parent-teacher conferences are going to go amazingly well.  Clearly, I’ve nailed this whole HOMESCHOOLING PRESCHOOL thing.)

Anyway.

My house is currently THE EXACT OPPOSITE of the homes on this blog tour.  Instead of decorating with real pine garlands and making a CHANDELIER OUT OF PINE BOUGHS FOR THE FRONT PORCH (I had absolutely no words for that marvelous achievement.), I have strategically placed all manner of dirty dishes and boxes of new diapers and stacks of junk mail all over my kitchen counters.  Instead of using the Pledge to make my hardwood floors shine and reflect the lights of my perfectly-decorated, eight-feet-tall Christmas tree, I have left the Lucky Charms paste stuck to the floor.

(What?  You don’t know what Lucky Charms paste is?  It occurs most commonly in nature when your one-and-a-half-year-old son chews up a mouthful of Lucky Charms cereal… and then spits it out.  When it plops onto a hardwood floor, it sticks.  If it’s not cleaned up within a four-minute window, it becomes dried paste that has the same properties as concrete and super glue.  In other words, by now that Lucky Charms paste may be a permanent fixture in our home.)

No matter.  We had a great weekend, regardless of the small fact that we seem to be living in a home that was decorated exactly like a crack house.

The boy gave Thing 2 a whistle this weekend, and we learned that FULL-ON CRAZY has a real sound.

IMG_0677 IMG_0678 IMG_0681The audiologist thinks that I should regain hearing in my ear after the blown-out eardrum quits dripping blood and is surgically fixed.

On Friday, the boy’s good buddy, Ben, turned thirteen.

Thirteen years  old… on Friday the 13th.  It was like an omen combination that spells out OH, DEAR.

Ben wanted to see The Hobbit for his birthday, so he came up from Small Ranching Community (some 70 miles away), and the boys all went to the show.

IMG_0683 IMG_0685Ben threw a sleeping bag onto our family room floor after the movie, and the boys stayed up until a time that only Jesus really knows, playing video games.

On Saturday morning, they commandeered my computer and set up a command center that made NASA’s headquarters look like a kindergarten Play Doh operation.

IMG_0688 IMG_0699Sadly, they did not accept Thing 2’s application for employment, which stated, “I know how to push buttons on laptops.”  The little man desperately wanted to launch rockets and build colonies in Middle Earth, too, but he was demoted to the status of a gopher, as the boys continually gave him snack wrappers to throw into the garbage can.

IMG_0693 IMG_0694For a little while this weekend, I focused my attention on IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR CHRISTMAS CARDS MAILED OUT, THEY WILL SOON BECOME ST. PATRICK’S DAY CARDS.

I’m happy to report that progress was made there, but our refrigerator is still empty.

I DID go into Walmart on Saturday, but listen.  It’s the Christmas season, and Walmart is the primary shopping spot for Small Town, USA, because no one ever saw fit to open a mall or a Target here.  Usually I do okay in overly-crowded stores, but after we had secured the garbage bags that we desperately needed and a jug of milk for the baby, I told the boy, “Mama needs to get out of here, before I just lie down on the floor and lose my mind completely.”

Which explains why no groceries ended up coming home with us.

Thankfully, we were able to dig around in the pantry and produce the family staple of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and mandarin oranges.

It was a Sunday lunch of champions.

We are also letting Thing 2 practice his I CAN FEED MYSELF brag.  It takes some powerfully pulled-back reigns to stop Mama’s OCD horse and wagon, where she just wants to grab the spoon and keep everything neat and tidy already, but she’s working on it!

IMG_0700 IMG_0704 IMG_0709 IMG_0710 IMG_0713 IMG_0717 IMG_0724 IMG_0728 IMG_0731 IMG_0732 IMG_0734 IMG_0744I think that’s what Tide is for…

… but I need to go back into Walmart to actually buy some.

And I think we all pretty much know that I’d rather surf the World Wide Web and see how women without Lucky Charms paste on their kitchen floors decorate even their laundry rooms for the holiday season.

Crazy over-achievers!

Y’all have a happy Sunday evening.

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