Our weekend has shaken down.
Friday was Valentine’s Day, and I never miss an opportunity to snap pictures of my boys. February 14th is a national holiday, and NATIONAL HOLIDAY = MAMA HAS THE CAMERA OUT, SO STAND THERE AND SMILE.
First, it’s Valentine’s Day here, and neither one of them is wearing anything red, unless you count the minor stripes in the boy’s plaid shirt. It’s because Mama didn’t get out to Gymboree to find an adorable red T-shirt that reads HEART BREAKER or LOCK UP YOUR DAUGHTERS across the front of it, nor did she invade the boys’ closets to pick out holiday attire in the appropriate colors. It may be the very first Valentine’s Day of EVER that my boys were wearing blue and yellow, but…
… secondly, the boy is wearing glasses. And those glasses emptied our checking account of all of its mad money, grocery money and electric bill money, which left Mama with nothing to spend at Gymboree and no real resolve to even care that maybe her boys should wear red on Friday.
Because the answer is YES. I was seriously looking at dining room chairs online two weeks ago. Oh, we HAVE dining room chairs, but they’re the wooden chairs that match our wooden dining room table, and if you’ve spent ANY TIME AT ALL on Pinterest in the last year, you’ll soon realize that this decorating technique is SO LAST DECADE. Now, everyone has their wooden farmhouse tables and their industrial, metal chairs… or even their art-deco, white plastic chairs. And that is how I found myself on the World Wide Web, with FOUR DINING ROOM CHAIRS in a virtual shopping cart. I had consulted Hubs, and let him know that YES, THESE FOUR CHAIRS ARE ON AN ENORMOUS CLEARANCE SALE, AND IT’S LIKE THEY WERE MEANT TO BE OURS, BECAUSE HOLY DISCOUNT, BATMAN! They were from Target, and nothing says, I DECORATE EXACTLY LIKE KATE MIDDLETON DECORATES HER PALACE by placing an online order at Target-dot-com. Hubs said, “I don’t care if you buy them, just so long as they don’t scratch our hardwood floors.”
Which makes perfect sense, considering that we have a rug the size of Texas under our dining room table, and the legs of our chairs have never ventured far enough outside of their boundaries to actually experience a trek on the hardwood floors.
I kept those four chairs in my online shopping cart all day, before I typed in my credit card information, because I wanted to MAKE SURE.
Oh, I was PRETTY DADGUM SURE, but waiting to pay for them after an entire day’s worth of thought just sounded like the grownup, mature thing to do.
Hello, Adulthood and Responsible Shopper; I have arrived.
And it’s a good thing that I did wait, because the boy came home from school THAT VERY AFTERNOON and announced, “I can’t really read the blackboards any more in math. Or in history. Or even in science, and I sit in the front row in science.”
And that is when I saw my four dining room chairs go up in smoke, because what we HAVE is health insurance. And chiropractic insurance. And insurance to cover psychiatric treatment, some orthodontics, therapeutic massages and probably even hangnail removals. What we DON’T HAVE is vision insurance, because I HAVE NO IDEA WHY. How is it that our policy covers everything under the sun, except VISION, and we are a family of three blind mice?
I made the boy an appointment with our friend Sam, the eye doctor. Sam just nodded his head and declared, “Indeed.” Because apparently Sam was quick to notice that the boy wasn’t going to be successfully copying down formulas from the board in his advanced math class easily. Sam’s parents can rest assured that he’s putting all of his college tuition to good use, by diagnosing I CAN’T READ WHAT MY TEACHER WRITES ON THE BOARD, and offering fantastically cute glasses in every manner of SELLING TWO PAIRS COVERS A YEAR AT OPTOMETRY SCHOOL prices.
And that is how we came to have one very pricy pair of glasses, along with just the wooden dining room chairs that came with our dining room set in 1995, before home decorators sat up and took notice of how sassy four white, plastic chairs would be with that table.
We picked up the glasses from Sam’s office on Thursday afternoon, and started Valentine’s Day as poor people, but listen. I think those frames look powerfully cute on my boy!
And then, over an entire month ago, I agreed to sub for our pre-kindergarten teacher at the school where I teach PE on Valentine’s Day. She knew way ahead of time that she’d be out of town on Friday, and she asked if I wouldn’t mind taking her class over for her, since dodgeball games don’t happen in the gym on Fridays. And do you know what people are NOT thinking about in the beginning of January? Valentine’s Day parties.
So that’s how I found myself surrounded with four- and five-year-olds for the better part of the day, who were bouncing off the walls from pink cupcake frosting and red glitter on their candy hearts.
And then… apparently all the DIRECT HINTS in last week’s blog posts at Jedi Mama, Incorporated made Hubs realize that OH, MY! VALENTINE’S DAY! He texted me in the middle of all the cupcake chaos at school and said, “Do you want to go to dinner with me?”
Which is how I came to throw the Low Carb Way of Eating beneath the bus on Friday, what with all the party goodies and the little Mexican restaurant we ate at that evening.
(PS. It wasn’t even Taco Bell, because we decided to be terribly fancy this year. As opposed to… you know… a few years ago when we celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary at Taco Bell.)
And the boy’s school dance? Well… apparently it was a smashing success, and the boy even danced. We picked him and a couple of his buddies up, and they came home to our house, where they proceeded to indulge in all manner of chocolate Kit Kat candy bars, which Grammy had bestowed upon the boy as a holiday gift, while they rotted their brains out on video games.
So… that was Valentine’s Day, 2014 style. It’ll go down in the history books as a good one.
Thanks for dinner, Hubs.
But today? I’m not sure today is going down as a good one, because listen. Thing 2 decided to start his day at precisely 2:00 sharp this morning. When it was still dark. When normal human beings are still sleeping. That toddler and I were up together from 2:00 to 5:00 AM, when he finally fell asleep, after sheer exhaustion.
I crashed on his bedroom floor, with a blanket and pillow. Sleeping on a hardwood floor is not as comfortable in your forties as it was when you were eight.
Which clearly explains why I might need back surgery now… or even a hip replacement.
I was reawakened later this morning with THE VERY SWEETEST KISS in all of history. Sleeping Beauty never had such a great wake-up call in all her life. But there I was, on the hardwood floor, looking like something the cat had drug in, and there was Thing 2, bent over me, kissing me square on the mouth and whispering, “Hi, Mommy! Hi, Mommy!” And I thought, “Surely it must be noon, after the two of us were up from 2:00 to 5:00.”
It wasn’t noon.
What it was… was 5:44.
Thing 2 had let us sleep an additional forty-four minutes.
Bless his heart.
We didn’t go to church, because Mama felt like death warmed up in a microwave, and because Thing 2 needed a nap more than people need oxygen. So I sat at the dining room table (with my four wooden chairs that are not as sassy as four white, plastic, art-deco chairs, but HELLO, GLASSES FOR THE TEENAGER!) and had church by working on my homework for our Beth Moore Bible study.
It went really well, considering that the boy was watching The Hobbit in the living room, and the singing dwarfs / Middle Earth men / trolls / heroes / dragons / whatever were providing some stimulating background music that made me want to pull my own hair out by the handfuls. I’ve decided that I do not like the genre of Middle Earth Dungeon Chants at all.
And that has been today, y’all. I’ve sort of walked around my house in a foggy stupor all day, trying to keep Thing 2 from climbing the refrigerator or lighting firecrackers indoors. Hubs got a solid three-hour nap in today, though, because he was absolutely exhausted after falling asleep last night before 9:00 PM and sleeping STRAIGHT THROUGH, WITH NARY AN INTERRUPTION, until 7:20 this morning.
Bless his heart.
And bless it a second time.
And THAT was our weekend.
I think it goes without saying that YES and INDEED: I’m a bit tired tonight.
(And by tired, I mean that I feel like I’ve been a participant in a sleep deprivation study for the past six weeks.)
Y’all have a happy Sunday evening, and may your children sleep clear through the night, without thinking that 2 AM is a fine time to jump on their beds and push dump trucks around.