I’ve had to stop and look at the calendar exactly twice today to remember what day of the week it was. Or is. Or whatever. When you’re on Spring Break, every day is Saturday.
And really, I have nothing interesting to write about, which doesn’t differ from any other night of the week… except I’m finally admitting it. Unless, of course, you want to hear about how I went into Walmart for diapers, and stood in the baby section for a sweet forever, contemplating whether I wanted Pampers or a more generic brand. On the one hand, the generic brand was literally half the price. On the other hand, I KNOW Pampers don’t leak, and I don’t mind shelling out real paper dollars and my left arm to guarantee that I don’t ever have to use a bath towel to sop up a lake on the toddler bed come morning.
(In case you’re curious, I went with a middle-of-the-road brand. I’m still hesitant to buy the cheapest diaper on the market, because there’s this saying that goes, “You get what you pay for.” And what I want to pay for is a peace of mind that all the tinkling is going to be absorbed in a wrap of cotton and petroleum, that will never break down in a city landfill.)
(If I’m going to end up in a bathrobe and house slippers at the state mental institution, I want it to be over something worthwhile… something that will make a good storyline for an NBC miniseries, where Sandra Bullock plays me… instead of something as mundane as, “She lost it over leaking diapers.”)
So really, we’re just going to hit a few quick topics tonight, with a nice, numbered list, and then I’m going to close up shop for the weekend.
(I checked the calendar again. The weekend really is coming, which means Spring Break is ending. This is a sad situation.)
1. The boy had his friend, Tristyn, spend the night last night. They hauled out some old game for the PlayStation that is called GAMES YOUR DEADBEAT PARENTS PLAYED ON THEIR ATARI GAMING SYSTEMS WHEN THEY WERE YOUR AGE. I think the disc held everything from Ms. Pac Man to Asteroids to Dig Dug to Pitfall.
The boy and Tristyn were whooping and hollering downstairs over their games… laughing uncontrollably… and then I overheard THIS little gem of a conversation:
“Have you ever wondered why all these old games from the ’80s always seem to have a space theme?”
“Wow. You’re right. There WERE lots of space games in the ’80s.”
“I think it’s probably because people didn’t really know much about space way back then, and it fascinated them, so they made games about what they thought was out there.”
It’s a good thing that the boy has a spiritual inheritance in the Kingdom of Heaven, because I visited my attorney today and had his name removed from my will with a good, pink eraser, so there will be no inheritance from his mama.
And… seriously?! DON’T THESE POOR-QUALITY GRAPHICS JUST MAKE YOU HAPPY?
And I’ll tell you what. We didn’t know much about what was out there in space, what with it being the Dark Ages and all, so we just made games about aliens hopping on a pyramid of stacked cubes, and trying to avoid springy snakes.
2. Also… we had pancakes yesterday… and we had them twice. Mam stopped by, and the boys were hungry, so she decided to make the toddler some pancakes, because that’s what he wanted. And Mam, bless her heart, let Thing 2 help with all the stirring, because her Fruit of the Spirit bloomed in the form of patience, while my Fruit of the Spirit still needs to be fertilized with chai tea before any real growth and blooming takes place.
Plus… the pancakes at lunch were so good… we had them again for dinner. It’s how we roll when we’re on Spring Break and can’t remember if it’s Sunday or Wednesday.
3. Thing 2 is into building with blocks. Specifically, his architectural skill and love is to build TOWERS. And then he smashes them like a wrecking ball, because THAT is his personality.
I just wanted to be clear on the pain and anguish claim that I’m discussing with my lawyer.
(And the answer is YES! Thing 2 does indeed have a pink binky. We’ve been over this before. He likes it.)
4. We had some down time this afternoon, and the boys read books together.
THE BOY was reading! And his little brother loves to have Bubbie sit in the rocking chair and read all about owls and tractors and dump trucks.
(I realize that the boys’ shirts make it look like we thought TODAY was St. Patrick’s Day.)
(We may not know what day of the week it is, but we know that today was a safe day NOT to wear green. I have no idea how this double-green wardrobe happened.)
5. And then something as uncommon as an appearance by Haley’s Comet happened today.
(Not that we had any idea in the ’80s WHAT Haley’s Comet was; we just designed video games with low-resolution graphics to simulate the alien life we thought existed out there.)
I finished all the laundry.
And really? That should be typed out in all capital, bold letters.
I FINISHED ALL THE LAUNDRY!
Like… ALL OF IT. As in… I washed the darks and the whites and the reds and the jeans. I washed the towels and the bathroom rugs and the bedding and the dishcloths. And then an angelic glow came from our walk-in closet, as the VERY EMPTY laundry baskets shone with wonderment.
It was kind of like a unicorn had pranced through my closet and spread glitter all over the empty laundry baskets.
And then Hubs came home from work… ripped his THIS HAS A COLLAR ON IT shirt off that he wore to work… tossed it into my empty laundry basket… and put on a sloppy, THIS IS FULL OF HOLES, BUT I LOVE IT ANYWAY T-shirt… which completely ruined the fact that ALL THE LAUNDRY HAD BEEN DONE FOR FORTY-SEVEN ENTIRE MINUTES.
Never mind LEAKING DIAPERS. Ruining my ALL THE LAUNDRY IS DONE moment is enough to make me pack my bathrobe into an overnight bag and just drive myself to the state mental hospital.
Y’all have a merry weekend.