I got up this morning at 5:00, because… well... OWLS. Namely, the owl who sits in a tree outside our bedroom window, and hoots a long-winded story to his two fraternity brothers in nearby trees. Hubs finds their hooting conversation calming and relaxing. I find it creepy, which means there will be no more sleeping until they wrap up their lying, exaggerated stories about HOW BIG THAT RABBIT WAS and move on.
Which is how I found myself falling back asleep at 6:15 this morning. I didn’t mean to. I simply hadn’t gotten up, after listening to the owls, and then suddenly the clock was bonging 6 AM from the living room, and I must’ve laid there a few minutes more, and then BOOM! It was precisely 6:34, and Thing 2 was hollering for breakfast. I sat up, looking worse than Anna, when she wakes up in the Frozen movie. I was disoriented, and desperately trying to remember what day of the week it was. I’d been dreaming and drooling on my pillow, and WELCOME TO PARENTING WITH YOUNG CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE ON A WEEKEND MORNING.
I got up with the baby… made him a delicious, homemade waffle (which is to say, I toasted a frozen, gluten-free waffle and slapped some peanut butter on it, and then set a peeled banana right beside it)… made myself a cup of coffee, and immediately planned out everything I could get done before Hubs woke up. I could wash Thing 2’s bedding, unload the dishwasher, and do some of my Bible study homework.
And then I sat down in the living room and played Candy Crush for forty-five minutes, while I slowly blinked and soothed myself with the thought that Thing 2 will sleep in when he’s fifteen.
We did make it to church this morning.
And we made it to the take-and-bake pizza parlor, because… well… we are out of the necessary grocery items to make homemade food… and we made it to the matinee to see Murder on the Orient Express, while Thing 2 played at Mam and Pa’s house.
In other words… HELLO, VERY LAZY SUNDAY.
And THAT is why I’m going to bed tonight with approximately six miles of bright orange Hot Wheels plastic track circling my living room, dirty dishes in my kitchen sink, and three-point-nine million Lego bricks scattered across our floors.
I guess every now and then we just need a Sunday where we do nothing, except pass eight levels on Candy Crush and chop up a semi-homemade pizza.
Happy Sunday night, y’all. It’s 8:15 and past my bedtime.