The Sunday Post That Kind Of Rambles Like A Tumbleweed In A Windstorm

I’ll just tell you the truth tonight.

I’m still in the pajamas that I put on last night before bed, and here it is… almost twenty-four hours after I last went to bed.

I’m also still wearing yesterday’s hair.

But, people… I BRUSHED MY TEETH TODAY!  It’s because I draw the line right-smack-there.  I can look like I live in a gutter and weather storms inside an alley garbage dumpster, but I will have clean teeth.

I look like a vagrant tonight because Thing 2 has THE SNOT again.  We didn’t leave the house for anything today, so it was all an issue of WHY BOTHER WITH THE SHOWER?  I knew that the only people I’d be seeing today were those who live in this house with me and Peppa Pig, but Peppa doesn’t care what I look like when she performs her antics from the TV screen.

So yes.

Thing 2 went down for his nap on Friday afternoon as a healthy, thriving, handsome, lovable toddler, and my friend, Becki, walked in my front door at precisely that same moment in time, bearing two grande cups from Starbucks.

Jesus loves Becki, and on Friday afternoon, I loved her with my entire heart!  We sat at my dining room table and talked and talked and also TALKED, until our paper, mermaid cups were empty, and then we talked some more.  And then Thing 2 woke up, sniffling.

The sniffling was followed by a sneeze.

And then a second sneeze.

And by 3:00 on Friday afternoon, we had enough snot pouring down the toddler’s face to open a glue factory.  I felt awful for the little man, because he couldn’t breathe, and because he kept sneezing and coughing, and because MY BABY WAS SICK!

So… even though Rival Town was here, ready to play our Small Town High School football team… and even though this is always the best game of the season, when EVERYONE who lives in Small Town shows up at the stadium for burgers and loud cheering… I stayed home with Thing 2.  I didn’t want to risk taking him out into the cold night air and making MORE snot.

Not that I believed that more snot was even possible, because we had A LOT OF IT.

Hubs took the boy and the boy’s buddy, Tristyn, to the game, while I let Thing 2 play in the warm bathtub, hoping the steam would open up some nasal passages.  And then we used the Play-Doh.  And then I rocked my toddler to sleep and snuggled him close, as I asked Jesus to please let this ugly cold pass quickly.

After Thing 2 was sleeping soundly, Becki texted me to say, “Um… I have a stomach bug, and I’m throwing up everything that I’ve eaten since 1984.  I hope you don’t catch this; I felt fine when I was at your house!”

I simply told her that we weren’t worried, and I was crossing my fingers that she didn’t catch Thing 2’s cold, because he had been categorized as a WELL CHILD when she showed up with those precious Starbucks cups.

And yes, Small Town High LOST (for the first time this season!) to Rival Town, by five points in the last twenty-three seconds of the game.  I heard the devastating news come across the radio, and Hubs’ face confirmed it when he brought the big boys home.

Oh, Rival Town.  Can’t you just MOVE OUT OF THE STATE?!

Our Saturday was spent hanging out with the boys.  Tristyn had spent the night, and we grilled homemade pizzas outside on the Traeger for lunch, and listen:  THEY WERE SO GOOD, THEY TASTED LIKE BABY ANGELS HAD BAKED THEM WITH FEATHERS FROM THEIR WINGS.

And then, at precisely 3:00 on Saturday afternoon, I was gripped with a session of stomach cramps that made childbirth feel easy, and I began emptying MY system of everything I had eaten since 1984.

I texted Becki and said, “Thanks.  Thanks a lot.”

It lasted for six hours, and I think that I shed 42 pounds of fluid weight.

This morning, there didn’t even seem to be a real reason to get out of our pajamas, because SNOT and SHAKY STOMACH.  Except the boy still has a social life that must be tended to, so he showered and put on real clothes.  He had a golf lesson, and then he and some of his friends went to the park to play a game of doubles tennis.

(Is that how you say it?  “Doubles tennis?”  Because this is what I know about tennis:  You use a racket and a yellow ball.  The end.)

Kellen’s mom sent a couple of snapshots to my phone, which made my day.

IMG_2826 IMG_2829(And if you’re still here reading this, you deserve some sort of medal, because this is one rambling, not-so-greatly-written blog post.)


IMG_9799 IMG_9800I had to count those months on my fingers, I’ll have you know.  All that I could figure out in my head, without a calculator, is that today is October 5th, which makes my baby two-and-a-half-years-plus-one-more-month old.  (My college-math-professor friend, Becki, just died a little inside, but so what?  She made me puke.)

Sometimes I still look at that toddler and MARVEL IN AWE over the fact that he’s ours… and that Jesus believed Hubs and the boy and I were worth the miracle that it took to bring him to us.  He has added so much fun to our lives.

(And more crushed and stomped crackers on my hardwood floors than I could ever attempt to measure.)

And then I made a homemade potato-and-corn chowder in the crockpot for dinner tonight, which makes me wonder why I don’t just write my own cookbook with all the recipes that I’ve managed to pin on Pinterest.

I’m just THAT GOOD of a cook, y’all.

So… that’s going to wrap things up here for tonight.  Hubs is still watching the Bronco game… and Thing 2 needs a nebulizer treatment for all the snot and congestion and coughing he has going on… and I need to make inquiries about DID YOU GET ALL OF YOUR HOMEWORK DONE FOR TOMORROW?  ALL?  OF?  IT???  EVEN THE READING???!!!  Because 8th grade homework waits for no one, and sometimes the 8th grader at our house enjoys procrastinating and pushing it off until the final six seconds before his first-hour bell rings.

And then I’m going to head to bed, too.

I will probably just wear what I have on to bed, come to think of it!

Happy Sunday!

1 thought on “The Sunday Post That Kind Of Rambles Like A Tumbleweed In A Windstorm

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *