A Well-Rested Mama Is A Happy Mama

The big news is that Thing 2 slept all night long last night.  And… not only did he sleep ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT, he didn’t get up this morning until 6:15.

Six.  Fifteen. 

Y’all!!!

To us… at our house… that felt like sleeping in until noon.

“The Lord leadeth me beside still waters, and He maketh the toddler sleep through the night; His love endures forever.”  I think that might be in the Psalms.  Either way, I wanted to get a tambourine and play some thankful music first thing this morning, because THE TODDLER SLEPT!  And also SIX-FIFTEEN, PEOPLE!

And then today genuinely felt like spring, because, HELLO, SUNSHINE!  WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN SINCE LAST OCTOBER?!

Plus, my friend, Jill, had Thing 2 and I out this morning, where I attempted to take full advantage of the NATURAL LIGHT OF SWEET AND HOLY PERFECTION that shines through her enormous, living room windows, so that I could snap some two-year-old pictures of that toddler.

(Yes.  THAT toddler… THE ONE WHO SLEPT ALL NIGHT LONG AND DIDN’T GET UP UNTIL 6:15 THIS MORNING!)

(Have I already mentioned that?!)

(It’s just SO DADGUM EXCITING, because we have some issues with the entire concept of JUST LAY DOWN AND CLOSE YOUR EYES AND DON’T GET OUT OF YOUR BED.)

Jill’s windows are magnificent.  They’re every professional photographer’s dream, because this gorgeous morning light comes inside the house, and cameras eat it up like a delicacy full of cream cheese and real butter and sin.

Unless, of course, the photographer is an unskilled amateur who is better at taking blurry photos than she is at taking crystal clear photos.

But still… I think we managed to snap some fairly cute ones of my little fellow, regardless of the fact that his attention span is eighteen-tenths of a nanosecond long, unless trains, tractors, mayhem or soccer balls are involved.

(Yes.  EIGHTEEN-TENTHS.  Somewhere, that’s a real number.  And somewhere, some husband is hollering at a wife while they’re hanging a giant photo above their fireplace mantle, “Just move it eighteen-tenths of an inch to the left!  No, no, no!!  YOUR left!!  Now bring it back six-tenths of an inch!”  And somewhere, that same wife is standing on a step stool, holding the giant landscape painting, and quietly wondering where a person could buy arsenic, and if it really can be disguised in powdered sugar donuts.)

(Hubs and I do not measure ANYTHING the same way.  To clarify, Hubs measures lines down to half of the width of half of a hair, and I don’t really measure anything at all with a ruler.  I’m all about the eyeballing and slapping a nail in the wall wherever it makes me happy, and Hubs is all about HOW CAN BEING A QUARTER OF AN INCH TOO FAR IN ONE DIRECTION TAKE YOU TO A HAPPY PLACE?  I guess I’m just full of a lot of SIMPLE.)

But!

Here are the blurry snapshots of the two-year-old.  Because I don’t… you know… take enough pictures.

At all.

IMG_3293 IMG_3297 IMG_3299 IMG_3306 IMG_3307 IMG_3309

Just go ahead and tell me that those curls don’t make you smile.

Your pants might catch on fire if you do.

After Jill and I were completely exhausted (Jill, from blowing horns and whooping and hollering and playing Peek-a-Boo behind me to get Thing 2’s attention in hopes that he’d GRIN, and me, from chasing Thing 2 across the house forty-eleven-and-nine-more-times to catch him after he just UP AND LEFT the photo shoot area), we let the boys play at the train table.

IMG_3315The train table is very likely Thing 2’s love language.  On our drive home from Jill’s house, he kept saying, “Maffew twain ta-bo… Maffew twain ta-bo!”  If you’re not fluent in the verbal skills of an excited two-year-old, that translates as, “I loved Matthew’s train table, and I wanted to steal it and bring it home to MY house, Ma!  With a little manhandling, I know we could have fit it into the back of our Suburban.”

So that was today, people.

And today also involved me teaching PE and hearing THIS sentence come out of a second grader’s mouth:  “Oh, my gosh!!  He sneezed on me, and I have a wad of snot the size of an Easter egg on my arm!”

Please plan on attending your next school board meeting and standing up to announce that no one who teaches in a school is EVER paid enough for what they endure.  Because a “wad of snot the size of an Easter egg?”  Yeah.  You can’t UN-see some things, after they’ve been shown to you.  Oh, how I wished for the Men in Black to stop by my gymnasium and flash their neuralizer in front of my face, to banish the memory of a snot ball on an eight-year-old’s arm.

Y’all have a fantastic Tuesday night.

1 thought on “A Well-Rested Mama Is A Happy Mama

  1. You do make me laugh. Your pictures look great. I mean that boy really is dad-gum cute. Cannot wait to try again Friday with my camera:)

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