A Bunch Of Monday Night Thoughts

I had every good intention to throw a blog post up last night.

(And actually, you can go ahead and interpret that first statement there any way you like, because sometimes throwing a new post onto the blog is exactly like I’ve simply chewed up a bunch of words, choked them down, and regurgitated them right here for y’all to read.)

(I apologize.)

But then last night, when I turned the computer on for the first time all weekend, the Big Mac locked me out.

As in, I typed my password into the initial boot-up screen, and Big Mac said, “Um, no.”  And since my philosophy with computers is simply that if it didn’t work the first time, you should keep trying (because God forbid you attempt to TROUBLESHOOT the issue), I tried my password again.  And again.  And again, until the agains equaled nine hundred and fourteen, and that’s when I snarled and barked at Hubs that FOR THE LOVE OF PETE’S GRANDMOTHER’S FAVORITE KITTEN!  DON’T WE KNOW A DECENT I.T. GUY IN THIS PART OF THE FOREST?

And Big Mac?  Well, he locked Hubs out, too, which brought pure joy to my heart, because if Hubs cannot break through a computer’s security system, there ain’t nobody who can.

(I know this for fact, because long ago, Hubs used a website to download maps on a weekly basis for work.  Said maps were free, free, free.  And then, all of a sudden, said maps were NOT free, and Hubs was irritated, because WHO WANTS TO PAY FIVE AMERICAN DOLLARS FOR A MAP I USED TO PRINT OUT FOR THE COST OF A GIANT-SIZED PIECE OF PAPER IN THE FIRM’S ENORMOUS PRINTER?  Hubs vowed to boycott the company and find free maps elsewhere, because Hubs is stubborn, and, back then, five dollars could buy a whole lot of gasoline.  Or even lunch for two at McDonald’s.  About a week later, Hubs called me over to the computer and grinned and said, “I can still print these maps for free.”  And, people, Hubs had STINKING HACKED THE MAP MAKERS’ WEBSITE.  He had taken an axe in his hand and a coil of rope in his teeth, scaled their firewall, and chopped their bolted door right down.  And then he said, “I won’t do it, because it’s clearly not right, since they want me to pay for their maps now.  But I just had to know that I ABSOLUTELY COULD get those things for free, if I wanted to.”)

(Please don’t think your systems are secure when Hubs is around, people.  He has been known to drive around town, find unsecured internet access points, and hack people’s personal space.)

(And that’s when I said, “LEAVE MY COMPUTER ALONE, DADGUMIT!”)

(And, truth be told, there’s nothing of value on my computer, because who cares that my Gap Kids account currently has a balance of $20.99 or that my high score on Scrabble Blast is only 4,699 points?)

No matter.

Hubs got out his Big Mac Be Good stick, and he beat it down, and today we are able to access our desktop once again.

I felt like I was in War Games, when Joshua says, “Greetings, Professor Falken.  Shall we play a game?”  Only today my Big Mac simply said, “Dude.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t recognize your retina scan, and I panicked and froze the gates.  Jesus will forgive me, and so should you, and Hubs has already made me feel SOLID SHAME for my behavior last night.”

So as far as news goes, guess who turned a whopping two months old on Saturday?

And there is that dimple that we are all head over heels in love with!  There isn’t anything quite as sweet as a little boy who grins at you while his cheek caves in.

He’s hanging in there as a little runt; he weighed an even eleven pounds today at his two-month check-up, which threw him in the 10th percentile for size.   I’m not sure that there’s a cuter baby out there, though.  We like little tiny guys; the boy still hasn’t made it out of the 15th percentile for height and weight!

Also?  Well, Hubs and I are not sure that a baby exist who naps as little as Thing 2 does, either.  Oh, the nighttime is getting SO MUCH BETTER!  Hubs and I cannot complain there, because Thing 2 is sleeping a solid four-and-a-half to five-and-a-half hours at a time now, and we feel like brand new grown-ups who are, once again, cable of driving the Suburban with catlike reflexes instead of in the fog that we drove in during March and April.  There is something to be said for being able to sleep four hours in a row; five hours in a row gives a person the strength to compete in the Olympics and win a rousing yodeling competition with enthusiasm.

In trade for all the good nighttime sleeping, Thing 2 has COMPLETELY GIVEN UP daytime napping.  He is two months old, which is still ITTY BITTY and VERY MUCH TINY, and on Saturday, Thing 2 slept 30 minutes in the morning and 40 minutes in the afternoon, and was awake for thirteen hours.  Today Thing 2 took a 15-minute catnap this morning, and then he miraculously slept through the boy’s hour-long soccer game this afternoon, and that was it.

By dinner time, Thing 2’s head is usually spinning, and Hubs and I expect green goo to shoot from his eye sockets, but he still refuses to give it up and TAKE A NAP.  So, we’re just going to go with it.  We have the only non-napping baby in all of  Small Town.

BUT… DID Y’ALL HERE?  Thing 2 slept six hours in a row last night!

As parents, we can’t have everything.

The rest of our weekend was quite wonderful.

The boy went home with Kellen after school on Friday, and when I picked him up, he was dirty enough to resemble a soldier in the desert.  His filthy face split into an enormous grin, as he announced with pride, “Kellen and I dug a hole in the field that was deep enough to be almost up to my waist!”  I have no idea why hole-digging has become a lost art to the female population, but it’s still thriving with the male tribe.  I asked the boy WHY?  WHY DID YOU DIG A GIANT HOLE?  And he said, “Because we found a shovel.”

Of course.  Thank goodness they didn’t find matches.

Also?  The manual labor involved with digging a hole that is up to a short boy’s waist is EXHAUSTING, and it wears a kid completely out, and isn’t that the entire goal of parenting?

I can hardly wait until Thing 2 can hold a shovel.

On Saturday morning, we had a truck pull into our driveway.  The driver announced, “I just have a load of household debris, and a battery to recycle.”  Um, excuse me?  Apparently he thought this was the city landfill, so I showered, skipped the make-up part of my morning routine, rolled up my sleeves, and I tackled the housework.


We’re under control here now, people.  Our house is back to normal, and I finally mopped the living room floor where all the Moon Dough was used.  I should probably feel more shame that the Moon Dough was used so long ago, and that we have simply said to one another, “That first step into the living room is a doozy.  It’s slick!  Watch yourself if you’re only wearing socks,” and no one has taken the initiative to drag out the cleaning products and remedy the situation.

But now?

Oh, Moon Dough remnants!  You are history.

On Sunday, Hubs and I secured a babysitter for the boys (Which means they went to Mam and Pa’s house, where they were spoiled plum rotten.), and we went to see the movie October Baby at the theater, in the form of a REAL and GENUINE date.

It was probably the very best bag of butter with popcorn floating in it that either one of us had ever eaten.  Oh, Theater Corn!  You were divine on Sunday afternoon!

And the movie?  Oh, people!  I bawled all the way through it.  It’s about adoption and parents who want a baby over mothers who don’t.  I’m sure it comes as no surprise to y’all, but the issue of adoption is a very moving one in our family, because of Thing 2.  And because of the boys’ cousin, Little H.  And because of Hubs, who was adopted by his parents.  And because of Hubs’ sister, Aunt Pink, who was also adopted.  So yes.  October Baby hit every raw emotion I have about adoption, and I cried my way through it.  And when we got back to our boys, I had to hug them both close and just feel their little bodies against my cheek.  Because honestly?  I’m not sure that two MORE WANTED boys exist than ours.  We gave birth to the boy, and we adopted Thing 2, and Hubs and I love them both so much, our hearts get all squeezy.

Even if they do dig holes in the ground for no reason.

And refuse to nap.

Even then they are thoroughly wanted.

Happy Monday night, people.

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