Well, we are in full-on winter mode… again. Still. Because living here in Small Town, USA is the equivalent of living at the North Pole. Our weather forecast called for more, more, MOOORRRRRREEE snow last night, so our school district went proactive and called a late-start morning at 9:00 last night. I guess the superintendent was all about extending Spring Break ’14 by two additional hours.
And do you know what you like to get at 9 pm, when you went to bed at 8:15 pm? A phone screaming in your ear with an automated call from the school district. So… as any good mama would do, I shuffled into the boy’s bedroom, dodged all manner of WHAT’S THIS ON YOUR FLOOR?, and turned his alarm off.
Yes. The boy was asleep early. Busy-busy and swimmy-swimmy will do that to a kid.
We woke up this morning to MORE SNOW, but NOT SO VERY MUCH MORE SNOW. We certainly didn’t need our late start day, but it was already set in stone, and you can’t take the promise of two additional hours at home away from children.
I’m beginning to think that Elsa has cast us into a land of frozen, eternal winter. I’m also beginning to think that I should just pack up, rent a Winnebago and head to Arizona and the SUNSHINE and the cacti and attempt to become a Cardinal’s fan.
Spring Break is over for us. We were handed two extra hours to mourn its passing, but now it’s gone. I faced an empty refrigerator first thing this morning, so the boy had to (*insert gasp here*) eat a hot lunch from the school’s cafeteria. Our boy will eat hot dogs from a gas station, but he’s convinced the school cooks are underground spies, who came to our country to poison 7th graders with meatloaf and fake taco meat. He has eaten a whopping total of five hot lunches this entire school year… and all five of those were directly related to MAMA AIN’T GOT NO HAM SANDWICH-FIXINGS IN THE FRIDGE.
(Clearly, I am a disappointment to pioneer women everywhere; Small Town was under a winter storm advisory, with expectations of MAJOR SNOW ACCUMULATION, and I didn’t head to the grocery store to stock up on candle wax and salt and vinegar potato chips.)
(But… I would like you to know that I went to the grocery store today. I filled my cart until I couldn’t fill my cart any longer, and I took
the octopus Thing 2 with me. All eight two of his arms were spinning in circles from the shoulders, grabbing everything that he could come into contact with. He flattened my bread, squeezed my hamburger buns into balls, opened a package of frozen Eggo waffles and removed one, ripped a hole in the bag of sugar, so that we left a trail behind us like Hansel and Gretel did, and somehow managed to get a candy bar at the checkout aisle without me knowing about, which he bit through and happily ate half of, before I noticed. Also… while I was busy looking for the cornstarch on one side of the aisle, I had my back to Thing 2. Another couple parked beside us with their two-year-old daughter in the cart, as they searched for something on the opposite side of the aisle. I couldn’t find the cornstarch, because WHERE DO THEY HIDE THAT STUFF? And, while I was busy looking, I heard the words, “Oh, no, no, no, no!” I turned around to see my toddler had wiggled himself sideways in his babyseat in the cart… grabbed this couple’s little girl around her neck… and was busy yelling, “Hug! Hug!”, while he tried to manhandle her OUT of her seat. I grabbed him and said, “Oh, no! We don’t grab little girls like that!” I’m fairly certain that I heard him say, “I can’t quit now… there’s just a little bit of fight left in this one!” I apologized PROFUSELY to the parents, and the dad grinned and said, “We have twins. TWO OF THEM!! Her twin brother is with his aunt right now. We’ve learned that you can’t control them… all you can do is hope to survive them. She’s had much worse happen to her at the hands of her twin brother.” All I can say is this: THANK HEAVENS FOR UNDERSTANDING PARENTS!)
I’m warning you now that it wasn’t very dramatic; you may need a cup of caffeine to get your through the boredom of reading about it.
On Friday, the boy had soccer practice. Exactly one hour before practice, it dawned on me that MAYBE he should try his cleats on from last year. This confirmed my worst fear: He could not even get his foot into them. So, off we went to the one and only sporting goods store here in Small Town for new cleats. This confirmed my second worst fear: The boy has officially grown out of YOUTH SIZES in shoes and is now in MEN’S SIZES. That English phrase can be translated as, “Soccer cleats, and shoes in general, will now cost exactly twice as much.”
The boy went through the process of trying cleats on with the nice sales girl, who looked like she was all of thirteen years old herself, while I kept Thing 2 from destroying the store. Thing 2 kept trying to kick his own sneakers off of his feet, while he hollered, “Soccer shoes! Soccer shoes! Soccer shoes!” He was all about getting a pair of cleats himself, and was FLAT-OUT DEVASTATED to learn that he would not be getting any.
This devastation was compounded by the fact that his mama denied him a new soccer ball out of the wire bin of balls sitting near the shoe displays. I believe my exact words were, “No. You already have a soccer ball at home.”
We left the store carrying a thrashing Thing 2, who was screaming at the top of his lungs, “Soccer ball! SOCCCCERRRRRR BALLLLLLLL!!!!”
We may have been what some good families refer to as A SPECTACLE. Thing 2 is convinced that he will be playing on the boy’s junior high team this season, and he didn’t want to start without the proper equipment already purchased.
On Friday night, Brother and Brother’s Wife came over to hang out at our house for a bit. They were thoroughly entertained by Thing 2 demolishing our living room and demanding one-point-six million times that Cousin B give him a ride in his Tonka dump truck. And then they got to be a witness to Thing 2’s Academy Award performance of “Going Postal,” where he screamed at the injustices society inflicts upon two-year-olds these days with a five-star, solid gold performance.
I believe that Brother and Brother’s Wife left our house to enjoy a cigarette and glass of wine in their Suburban, as they whispered, “We’re so glad that WE are beyond the toddler stage in life!”
Cousin B ended up spending the night with us, so the big boys rotted their brains out with video games, while Thing 2 went to bed.
And then Thing 2, bless his heart, was up for two-and-a-half hours in the middle of the night, which meant that I was, too.
I felt like I had been beaten down in a game of chicken on tractors.
(I always feel like it’s a good thing to insert a little Footloose reference now and then.)
By 11:00 Saturday morning, I had cooked pancakes for everyone… Cousin B had left with his parents… the boy had left with friends, heading to the water park in Bigger Town, USA… and Thing 2 was down for a nap.
Hubs and I looked at one another and yelled, “Naps for everyone!!!” Which is exactly how I ended up sound asleep on one sofa, while Hubs snored on the other one.
Our Saturday morning was nothing short of pure glamor and drool on the throw pillows.
On Saturday afternoon, we hung out with Mam and Pa. We even managed to mooch a home-cooked-fried-chicken-and-potato-salad sort of dinner off of them.
… Hubs and I began the arduous task of waiting up for the boy to return, when we were both ready for bed. We discussed how we’d like to go back in time to the late ’80s and COME HOME AT 9 PM ON THE WEEKENDS, SO THAT OUR MAMAS AND DADDIES DIDN’T HAVE TO STRUGGLE THROUGH THE PROCESS OF WAITING UP FOR A TEENAGER.
I get it now.
(Dear Mom and Dad, I am SO SORRY I ever argued with you on curfews as a teen and just said, “Go to bed! You don’t have to wait for me to come home!” Because now I understand that you CANNOT SLEEP when your child is out after dark, because ARE THEY ROBBING CONVENIENCE STORES NOW? And also, HAVE THERE BEEN ANY CAR ACCIDENTS REPORTED ON THE INTERSTATE?)
Thankfully, the boy was home an hour earlier than they had anticipated, so Hubs and I were relieved from our STAY UP AND WAIT FOR THE KID TO GET IN duties at 10 pm, instead of 11. Sweet mercy, but I’m not sure that I’m prepared for weekends with a teenager.
And then Thing 2 was up for three hours during the middle of the night.
Which killed me dead.
And it’s why I went back to bed at 9 am on Sunday morning, after handing the parenting reigns to Hubs. It’s also why I slept until noon (!!!) and felt somewhat like a disoriented college student, waking up on a sofa at lunchtime.
And that’s when I realized that, SHUT THE DOOR, BETTY, but I don’t feel good. My stomach hurt like it only does when you’re a little girl, when you want nothing more than to call your mom from school, have her come and pick you up, and then spend the rest of the day in pain and stomach agony on the couch, watching The Flintstones and Little House on the Prairie, while you sip 7-Up through a straw.
My Sunday involved moving from one sofa to another, to the bed, and back to the living room, all day long.
And I cooked Hamburger Helper for my boys, because neither stomach viruses or wind or cold or death shall keep a mama’s family from eating a solid, square meal of sodium and cheap noodles.
And then I went to bed last night, without stocking up on groceries for the big storm… which didn’t turn out to be that big of a storm after all.
Of course, Thing 2 was up for three more hours last night. If y’all are playing along at home, that is THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW THAT HE HAS BEEN AWAKE FOR TWO TO THREE HOURS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, AND I AM DYING A SLOW DEATH BECAUSE OF IT. I have officially listed our toddler on eBay, and Hubs and I are waiting to see what the high bid will be over the next six days. If you’re interested in bidding, please do so, but I’m warning you: HE. IS. A. HORRID. HORRID. HORRID. SLEEPER.
So now you know all about our weekend, which wasn’t so eventful, as it was filled with naps. Unless, of course, we’re talking about the boy, and then SLEEP OVER! And VIDEO GAMES! And WATER PARK WITH THE BUDDIES!
And THAT KID slept all night long last night, regardless of the fact that his Spring Break had wrapped up with a grand finale and ended.
Happy Monday evening, people. May you all enjoy your nighttime sleeping, and may you all remember our family in your prayers, while we are NOT enjoying our nighttime sleeping, because NIGHTTIME SLEEPING? WHAT’S THAT?!