My mind is literally a total blank right now. This is completely unheard of for me, because usually I’m the one with a bare minimum of forty-seven thoughts running through my head at any given time.
At 3:00 in the morning, that thought count is multiplied by seventy-seven, the one is carried, some numbers are rearranged, and then the whole thing is squared, so that the answer is SIXTEEN MILLION THOUGHTS running around in my head, at the same time. I’m forever accusing Hubs of having life entirely too easy, because he insists that the male mind can just BLANK. ITSELF. OUT.
I can’t even.
The thought of just being able to settle into bed with an empty head is so attractive to me, yet so elusive. And that, people, is why it’s completely unheard of for me to sit down at the computer and think, “My brain is out to lunch and forgot to tell me.”
That may have everything to do with the fact that it’s Wednesday. By Wednesday evening, I’ve taught back-to-back PE classes for two days in a row, dealt with everything from SHE’S NOT COMING TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY to THIS IS THE OWIE I GOT PLAYING DODGEBALL TODAY, WHICH CANNOT BE SEEN WITHOUT A PROTON MICROSCOPE, BUT I KNOW A BAND AIDE WILL MAKE IT ALL WELL, and then I’ve dealt with everything at home, from I FORGOT TO HAVE YOU SIGN ALL THESE BACK-TO-SCHOOL FORMS LAST NIGHT, AND I HAVE TO LEAVE FOR SCHOOL IN THIRTY-SIX SECONDS, BUT COULD YOU PUT YOUR SIGNATURE ON FORTY DIFFERENT SHEETS OF PAPER RIGHT NOW? to I’LL POOP IN THE TOILET AGAIN WHEN I’M NINE.
Instead of intelligent thoughts (because this is such a literary blog, aimed at bettering folks’ knowledge) or the repetitive tale where I inform you all that our SCRUBBED CLEAN JUST THREE DAYS AGO house now resembles a squatter’s hut in a war zone, I’ll just show you the face of three-and-a-half.
Yes. Three years and six entire months, because babies grow up, go to high school and eat entire sides of beef in a single sitting before you’re even ready for it to happen.
I’m really not sure why anyone refers to the twos as TERRIBLE. With both of my boys, the threes have been where the challenges are at. It’s where a mama will find all the potty training, and the I’M NOT GOING TO EAT THAT and I’M NOT GOING TO WEAR THAT and WHY CAN’T I JUST WATCH BUBBLE GUPPIES INSTEAD OF PICK UP MY TOYS?
Actually… that sounds a whole lot like age fifteen, too.
But, we are officially halfway through our threes, and it’s been a little hard on my heart to watch our baby grow up so quickly.
Anyway. I still barely have a coherent thought to my name, so y’all just go on ahead and have a merry Wednesday evening.