Before I go any further, I should just warn you that I have been both awake AND functioning since 3:30 this morning, but I seem to be fading quickly now. This is evidenced by the small fact that Thing 2 and I were watching a movie on TV together, because LET’S DO SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T REQUIRE A LOT OF BRAIN POWER, and I blacked out on the sofa and discovered that I had completely missed a forty-minute segment, while I NAPPED. I snapped to attention, looked at Thing 2, and basically yelled, “ARE YOU STILL AWAKE?”
Because what we don’t want happening is Thing 2 dozing off for forty entire minutes in the late afternoon. That is a recipe for a dish the five-year-old likes to call, “I’m Not Tired At Bedtime.” I find it usually pairs nicely with a mixed drink called “Your Mama Is Going Crazy.”
But… as much as I’m complaining right now about our 3:30 AM wake-up call today, it was the first time in forty-four consecutive nights that Thing 2 has gotten up. I believe consecutive is what you call IN A ROW, and we’ve had forty-four of those suckers. By my calculations, this is either a random hiccup on the highway of YES, OUR FIVE YEAR OLD FINALLY SLEEPS ALL NIGHT, or it’s a sharp U-Turn on that same highway, where we go back to the starting gates and quit sleeping again.
These are shaky times, people. We’re signing up for all the church prayer chains.
All of that to say… I’m a touch tired, so please forgive me if the words are more jumbled than usual.
How have y’all been? Because apparently I have not been around to check in here at the Jedi Mama headquarters, which has absolutely everything to do with the simple fact that HOW DO MOMS DO IT? We had something going on every single night after school last week, and by the time we’d come home and cooked a nutritious dinner of Cheerios and bananas, it was time to brush the teeth and put the pajamas on and read the bedtime stories.
And that wasn’t just for me, as Thing 2 had to be put to bed, too.
So this is going to be quick tonight, because Hubs is about to pull the hamburgers off his Traeger grill, and my Ore-Ida French fries are nearly ready to set off the oven timer, indicating that they’re finished.
In other words, we are yet again eating a fancy dinner, but since I’m pairing it with BROCCOLI, PEOPLE, I feel like we are meeting the majority of the food groups.
… our church gave out Bibles to all the kindergarten kiddos. They were called up on stage, where Thing 2 completely refrained from taking the mic and leading the congregation in another round of a worship song. He sat politely on the stage with the rest of the kindergarten crowd, showing us that miracles really DO happen, and he was OVERWHELMED with excitement to get his very own BIG BOY Bible.
I would have included the boy in these pictures, but… as usual… he was working.
Thing 2 also had REAL TEENAGE BABYSITTERS last Friday night, while his parents went out on a date. Once a month, Hubs and I have Supper Club with two other couples. We all get sitters, and we all meet somewhere for dinner. We’re nearly two full years into our Supper Club group. The only rule to Supper Club is that if a toy is served with a kid’s meal, we cannot eat there. Other than that, Supper Club has no rules. It’s just a time for us to get together with good friends, to catch up, and to laugh ourselves silly.
Because all of our boys’ grandparents live right here, we never hire REAL TEENAGE BABYSITTERS. We’ve learned that grandmas love to babysit, and they do it for free American dollars. But this time, we hired Cousin L and her BFF to come over to our house and chase Thing 2 around in circles until he was dizzy.
The only problem is that I think HE chased THEM around in circles, until THEY were dizzy, but they all insisted that they’d had a good time. Our house hadn’t burned down, flooded or filled itself with poisonous gases while they were all here, so we chalked that up as a Babysitting Win.
We rake leaves; we mow leaves; we blow leaves; we cuss the leaves. The only one who is totally on board with the hard work it takes to get them all picked up is Thing 2. He’ll work until his fingers bleed, because Thing 2 actually ENJOYS manual labor. I’m hoping that this characteristic of his stays until he graduates from high school, because what Hubs and I need is someone who is quite passionately HAPPY about hard work around here.
(And yes. Thing 2 wore a paintball mask, because the dust was bugging him.)
The rest of last week slid by in a blur of hockey practice, Bible studies, youth group, swim lessons, laundry, grocery-fetching and having our carpets professionally shampooed for the very first time.
(By the way, I am a fan of that!)
This weekend, we laid very low, because… well... the cold front came in. It has rained and drizzled and spit snow at us all day. Add that to the simple fact that Hubs was diagnosed Saturday morning at the walk-in clinic with a sinus infection AND double ear infections, and you can see that our weekend hasn’t included anything more than…
Thing 2 is thrilled that our ice rink is up and running for the season again, because he finds a lot of satisfaction in skating fast, sweating much, and slapping a puck against the boards so that he can hear the BIG BOOM sound, while the kids are all out on the ice practicing.
I would have taken a picture of the boy this weekend, but he was working.
The boy worked his last shift at the golf course today. He sat in the clubhouse, while it rained and drizzled… while no one golfed today… and then he came home early and declared that the golf course is closed for the season!
And his mama said all the hallelujahs!
We are no longer going to set alarms for o’-dark-thirty on Saturday and Sunday mornings, so that the boy can be at work by 6:00 AM. We are no longer going to have just three of us at our dinner table for big bowls of Fruit Loops, while the boy works and closes up the clubhouse for the night.
No, ma’am. We are back to being a family of four at the dinner table.
However, Thing 2 will still see to it that we are up early on the weekends. You can take THAT to the bank.
Y’all have a good Sunday evening.