I think I logged an entire three hours’ worth of sleep last night, and I’m fairly certain that I’m going to live to regret the cup of coffee with extra sugar and cream that I had at 5:00 this evening. I wish that I could say that I was up all night, doing something fabulously wonderful, like polishing the diamonds on my tiara, but the honest truth is that I just couldn’t sleep.
And I, who has never been good at performing great feats of heroic math in my head, suddenly became a mathematics wizard at 3:00 this morning, as I laid there in bed, involved in ALL THE NOT SLEEPING, and thought to myself, “If I fall asleep in the next sixty seconds… and if Thing 2 sleeps in until 6 AM… I could get exactly three hours of sleep.” And then, at 3:15, I was reworking the problem, using different variables, and realizing that MAYBE I was actually using algebra for the first time since my college graduation.
If X, then Y.
If I fall asleep at 3:40, and Thing 2 sleeps in until 6:15…
All I know is that it was a long night, and I feel completely ready to take the final in any Algebra I class.
Also, I can’t believe that it’s the TOTAL END OF Labor Day Weekend now, because WHERE HAS THIS YEAR GONE? And HOW IS IT SEPTEMBER ALREADY?
On Friday night, Small Town High School’s football team was playing at home, and Hubs and I had some giant plans to take the boys and eat over-priced hamburgers at the stadium, in the name of supporting the booster club. But then Thing 2 threw a monkey wrench into the entire mapped-out plan, because he got the diarrhea.
Do you know what I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT WANT to have in the stadium of a football field?
That would be a toddler who is exploding diapers like they were soda cans at a gun range, because HAVE YOU EVER HAD ONE OF THOSE SITTING IN YOUR LAP? Sometimes the Pampers just can’t hold all the poo, so it winds up all over your good jeans.
So… Hubs took the boy and one of his buddies to the game, while an other-than-the-diarrhea-I-feel-just-fine Thing 2 and I stayed at home for our own date. We had Lucky Charms for dinner, because Hubs wasn’t around to protest an evening meal of cold cereal, and I explained what leprechauns are to our toddler.
I may or may not have used Garth’s voice from Wayne’s World when I did so.
Our hometown boys creamed their opponents on Friday night, so all was well in Small Town, even if I didn’t get a hamburger for supper.
On Saturday, while the boy was hanging out with a friend of his, Hubs and I took Thing 2 on a bike ride.
If you haven’t been on a bike ride with an energetic boy toddler lately, let me refresh your memory of what it is like.
We stopped our bike repeatedly and caught 642,000 ants. We threw 56,000 rocks. We turned the hubs on the bike’s wheels, engaging the four-wheel-drive mechanism, and went off-road 19,400 times. We picked up 391 sticks. We beheaded 8 wildflowers. We put our finger in bird poop once. We rode the snot out of the bike. AND… we came home with nearly thirty-three-and-a-half-million stickers, weed pieces, dirt chunks and cockle-burs in our curly hair.
We spent our Saturday and Sunday afternoons planting new trees in the pots that flank either side of our front door, since the original ones I had growing there went to be with Jesus. I have no idea why those tiny trees died, because they had been happy and content and JUST FINE in the pots on our patio for the past four entire years. And then… boom! As soon as August dawned, those trees turned brown, threw their needles down, exposed their naked trunks to the entire neighborhood, and gave up the ghost.
Now I have new pine trees in our patio pots, and I’m hoping that they’re better behaved than their suicidal predecessors were.
We also planted mums in pots, forced the boy to mow the yard, knocked out two wasp nests, weeded the flower beds, and power-washed the deck, the patio, and the driveway.
In other words, GOOD TIMES.
But we had College Town’s football game on the radio all Saturday afternoon, and they pulled off a victory, too, so our teams are off to fantastic starts this season.
On Sunday evening, we went to Hubs’ parents’ house for dinner. Hubs grilled ribs. I’m sure that they were perfectly delicious and all, but I can’t do ribs, because BONES, Y’ALL.
Today, after an absolutely sleepless night, during which I practiced every manner of mental math, as I calculated how many minutes of sleep I could possibly get by FALLING ASLEEP RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW!!!!!, we scrubbed our house.
It’s because we had taken on the look of a frat house on a Sunday morning.
My mom showed up this morning, claiming that she had nothing to do, and she just opened up my closet and pulled our vacuum cleaner out. That’s the kind of thing that Mam just DOES, because she is very devoted to cleanliness, and because her love of helping others MUST be expressed. Her crown in heaven is going to be bigger than yours and mine.
When we were done, the house sparkled. The floors had a heavenly glow to them. The bathrooms smelled of Clorox and geraniums, and there were NO toothpaste splatters on the mirrors. The laundry was well on its way to being finished. The throw pillows were artfully arranged on the sofa, exactly like a home decorator had stopped by. There was exactly zero-point-zero Matchbox cars on the floors or parked beneath our coffee table. There were no wooden Popsicle sticks out of a fudge bar stuck to the counters or the floors, where they are usually abandoned. Fresh towels hung on every towel bar that we own.
I won’t lie to you…
I desperately wanted to tell the three boys that I live with to go get themselves a hotel room, because IF ONE SINGLE CRUMB OF ANYTHING IS DROPPED ONTO MY SHINY HARDWOOD FLOORS, I WILL CUT YOU. I wanted to yell, “Go sleep at the Hilton, you filthy boys, and take your nightly fudge bars and the messy sticks that come inside of them with you!!!”
Of course, Hubs decided that I didn’t mean it, and he made jambalaya for dinner, which involved messing up the kitchen counters, as he threw down cutting boards and hauled out knives and had a couple of pots simmering on the stove.
It was enough to make me need a paper sack to breathe into.
And now, here it is, pretty much bedtime.
With any luck at all, my math skills will come out with the answer X EQUALS EIGHT ENTIRE HOURS.
Happy Monday night.