I got to wake up on my own this morning, without the help of an atomic flashlight torch waved in front of my sleeping eyes, so there really was no way that today could go wrong.
Of course, I woke up at 5:15 this morning, because when you’ve been forcefully woken up at that time for THE PAST FOUR AND A HALF YEARS, your brain just comes to accept that HELLO?! YOUR FORTY-SIX POUND ALARM CLOCK THAT WALKS AND TALKS AND DUMPS DIRT OUT OF ITS COWBOY BOOTS ONTO YOUR FRESHLY MOPPED FLOORS IS ABOUT TO POUNCE UPON YOU. And then… Thing 2 slept in until 6:35, because that’s exactly how my luck rolls. At this point in our lives, Hubs and I consider 6:35 in the morning to be sleeping in like a teenager.
I showered and decided to use the hot rollers today. There was no real reason, except that my hot rollers were sitting there in the bathroom cabinet, and I had an outlet right there on the sink, so why not? My hair turned out to be something that would’ve made Shirley Temple weep with joy. I won’t lie. After a little hairspray and a couple of strategically placed bobby pins, I could have taken Cindy Crawford’s place on the OLD WOMEN AS SUPERMODELS PLATFORM.
After a final coating of even more hairspray, to insure that it all stayed in place for longer than six minutes, I made the boys breakfast. Lest you think I’m bragging about that and secretly slipping in a jibe of YES! I COOK BREAKFAST FOR MY KIDS; WHAT DO YOU DO WITH YOUR TIME IN THE MORNINGS?, I will just let you know what cooking breakfast meant today. I let the hot water pour out of the kitchen faucet for four minutes, until it was good and hot, and then I put some into two bowls with packages of instant oatmeal and stirred. And then I popped the top on a can of mandarin oranges, drained them like a boss, and dumped those into the oatmeal bowls.
I fully expect my boys to be champions now, because they’ve had the breakfasts of one.
After that, I told the boy to DRIVE SAFELY! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE!! DRIVE SAFELY AND TEXT YOUR MAMA WHEN YOU GET TO THE HIGH SCHOOL, SO I DON’T WONDER IF YOU’RE LYING FACE-DOWN-DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE, and then I drove Thing 2 to preschool.
And then I came home and wiped down bathroom toilets and bathroom sinks, and then I chipped something brown off the bathroom floor that I really don’t want to talk about, but I am almost 98.5% certain it was a BROWNIE COOKIE FROM YESTERDAY, SO DON’T JUDGE US JUST YET, BEFORE THE LAB RESULTS COME BACK.
My glamorous hair this morning reflected my glamorous lifestyle.
At 10:00 this morning, after my hair had sufficiently lost a lot of its gorgeousness and was beginning to sag in places and look a little less like Cindy Crawford and a little more like Marge Simpson after a migraine bender, I met a darling friend at a coffee shop in the city, where parallel parking is usually involved, unless you’re lucky enough to get a spot near the back alley. We ordered quiche and coffee and finally took a breath from all of our talking to realize that HOLY MOTHER OF PAPA SMURF! I had twelve minutes to get across town to pick Thing 2 up from school!
I love a good coffee date where you talk so much, you completely lose track of the time.
And then I came back home, with my hair that was looking less and less glamorous as the day wore on, to face a laundry pile that was looking like the entire state of Texas had made a clothing donation to my closet floor.
So yeah… that was pretty much my entire day.
Before I officially sign off this evening for the weekend, I just have to say this one thing: When you think you are only having one child in your lifetime, and that fact holds true for eleven and a half years, you really don’t save any clothes to pass along to little brothers. Because of this, Thing 2 has never worn hand-me-down clothes from the boy, which makes me sad. I THRIVE on the hand-me-downs our friends give us for that preschooler of ours.
I am a BIG FAN of hand-me-downs!
A while back, Sister found a very small plastic garbage bag at the back of Cousin K’s closet, which held a few size-5 and size-6 items that we had passed on to her, after the boy outgrew them. Somehow, she had overlooked this bag when she, in turn, passed everything that Cousin K had outgrown on to someone smaller.
When she found it, she gave it to me.
And there, inside of that bag, were some little shirts that had been the boy’s when he was a tiny tot. Y’all, my joy was a real and contagious thing! The boy was such a tiny little runt, while Thing 2 is not. Right now, Thing 2 is four-and-a-half years old, and he is exactly as tall as the boy was, when he was turning six. He also weighed 46.2 pounds last week at the pediatrician’s office, which is how much the boy weighed AS A SECOND GRADER!! So, we will wear the stuff in this little garbage bag a bit earlier in age than the boy did, but we will wear them!
This morning, I ironed up this little yellow shirt for Thing 2, and I almost cried the crazy sentimental tears that only other mushy mothers will understand. How many times had I ironed it for the boy, when he was just a little punk?
I searched through old snapshots on my computer for a bit this morning, in between toilet scrubbings, and found one of the boy in this yellow-checked shirt…
… when he was six years old and in kindergarten.
Be… still… my… heart!!