If you want to know how my day has gone, let me just say this one thing: By 7:45 this morning, I had already reheated my cup of coffee in the microwave THREE ENTIRE TIMES.
And then I walked out of my house at 8:15 this morning, leaving half of that same cup of coffee behind… in the mug… on the kitchen counter.
One of my four-year-old, pre-kindergarten kiddos threw up all over herself and my gym floor in PE. It was one of those barfs that make you just want to burn the building down and leave, because HOW? HOW CAN YOU CLEAN SOMETHING UP LIKE THAT?! And now, on my list of things to be thankful for in November, I have to add OUR SCHOOL JANITOR. She just happened to walk by the gym as I was digging around in her supply closet for bleach, a mop, and Valium. And then she said, “I’ll get it. That’s my job, and puke doesn’t bother me at all. BOOGERS bother me; puke is an easy cleanup!”
I had to leave the gym, because what I didn’t find in the cleaning closet was a gas mask.
And then I left school this afternoon to go vote.
I voted for Jesus. He just seemed like the best choice to make.
But then I came home to a roast in the crockpot, because listen: In the middle of my frantic effort to reheat my coffee three times and get mascara on and squirt perfume all over myself, Hubs managed to throw a roast on for dinner.
So now he’s on my thankful list, too.
I don’t know what it is about coming home to a crockpot dinner after a long day, but it makes me feel like all the world is going to be okay again.
And I also feel like a mother who is on the top of her Dinner Game.
So there’s the crockpot to be thankful for, too.
In other news, we use a lot of hair product around here on Thing 2. He has this mane of curly-curly curls. The only way to keep it in line is to encourage it NOT TO FLUFF by smearing in the goop. We use the gels… we use the mousses… we use the lotions and the potions and the creams. It all works very well, because HAVE YOU SEEN HOW CUTE HE IS WITH HIS CURLY MOP OF HAIR?
Last week was one of those SOMETIMES.
The boy had bubblegum; Thing 2 wanted bubblegum. The boy offered the bubblegum for a chance to brush Thing 2’s hair. Thing 2 said NOT A CHANCE. The boy kept the bubblegum to himself. Thing 2 still wanted the bubblegum. So, in a manner exactly like a shady deal going down beneath an underpass at midnight on a rainy night, Thing 2 agreed.
Bubblegum for the hairbrush.
The boy brushed out those curls, until they fluffed real nice-like.
And then the boy stuck a MAN-BUN in Thing 2’s hair!
When he realized what the boy was doing, he yelled out, “This is a girl’s hairdo! I hate it!” And that’s when he pushed the negotiations straight to TWO PIECES OF BUBBLEGUM.
I was actually a little surprised that he let me take pictures of the man-bun, when it was in place. To say our preschooler hated it is the understatement of 2016. Glory, glory and also hallelujah! We don’t have to worry about the little man following that hairstyle movement with gusto.
And, as much as he’ll roll his eyes back in his head when he’s thirteen and sees these pictures of his fluffy hair, he did grin nicely for me after having his hair brushed into something reminiscent of the Harlem Globetrotters in the ’70s.
Happy Election Day, y’all.