Confessions of a Wayward Blogger
It is January 14th.....well in to the New Year and I have a Christmas tree still standing in my living room. The lights are pulled off and there are no longer decorations to make the tree a thing a beauty but it is still standing there.
Another tree is not quite fitting in the original box upstairs and the third tree is on the back porch.
Also fitting this list quite nicely: the chalk markings above my door are still reflecting last year's blessing on Epiphany....apparently the Three Kings haven't quite made it to our house this year.
I have two (TWO) air mattresses with leaks in the garage awaiting a trip to the dump, and there is at least one full box worth of Christmas or New Year's decorations throughout the house that somehow missed that room's pack-up.
At 9pm I haven't made lunches for tomorrow yet, I have a load of laundry that needs to run through the washer and dryer before I go to bed and I have to get the house up early tomorrow to take Gabe to school instead of him riding the bus because he has a tri-fold display board that needs to make it to school intact for a presentation.
And I am not stressed. At. All.
So the house is in a weird place right now, and my days have absolutely not gone the way I hoped with respect to accomplishing a list too long, but I'm actually ok with this. I should be worried about why I am ok with this, but I'm not.
Instead tonight my thoughts are actually filled with one very bizarre thing: what if passing gas smelled like the food we ate that caused the gas? I mean really? Sometimes I have a really bad stomach ache and I am asking myself "why? what did I eat?" If our inward consumption matched the outward production then I wouldn't have to ask myself this question and I could make better decisions on what I do and do not want to eat in the future.
A food diary would also work but where's the originality in that?
Tonight Eli said I was acting like a brat. I said "Eli we don't call names. Do I call you names?"
To which he replied "yes".
Oh ya. I do. I mean not like horrible names like "cotton headed ninny muggins" but I have told him he was acting like a jerk or a brat. So that conversation took a turn....
"Let's both stop calling names, deal?"
"Sure mom"
Last weekend Matt hung out with friends at his work Ball and then danced until they turned the lights on at a local country bar. I felt so proud of myself: first for staying awake long enough to be at a bar when they turn the lights back on and second for attempting to dance to country music in some manner that makes sense. I think it is called the two-step, not sure why still, which would explain why I wasn't so great, but I danced and had a blast! I laughed a lot and treasured the fact that as a military spouse I get to go to "grown-up prom" as my sister-in-law and I call it.
Gabe asked me if he could have my phone number when I die.
I really don't have much to add to that. It was weird. I sense that as he gets older and starts appreciating more of my stuff, he will ask for more of it when I die. I'm bracing myself for this now.
Today one of my students that I usually only see at recess came in to my classroom and loudly exclaimed "hey you are my outside teacher". It was extremely rewarding to engage this youngster in a conversation that covered the wildly amazing fact that I am at different moments of the day both outside....and inside. Crazy.
With that I shall summarize: house is a mess and I'm ok with it, passing gas doesn't smell as good coming out as the food that came in, I call my children names, this old lady can still dance the night away, Gabe is awaiting my death so he can have an easy to remember phone number and I am so amazing that I can transport myself both inside and outside.
Happy New Year!
Another tree is not quite fitting in the original box upstairs and the third tree is on the back porch.
Also fitting this list quite nicely: the chalk markings above my door are still reflecting last year's blessing on Epiphany....apparently the Three Kings haven't quite made it to our house this year.
I have two (TWO) air mattresses with leaks in the garage awaiting a trip to the dump, and there is at least one full box worth of Christmas or New Year's decorations throughout the house that somehow missed that room's pack-up.
At 9pm I haven't made lunches for tomorrow yet, I have a load of laundry that needs to run through the washer and dryer before I go to bed and I have to get the house up early tomorrow to take Gabe to school instead of him riding the bus because he has a tri-fold display board that needs to make it to school intact for a presentation.
And I am not stressed. At. All.
So the house is in a weird place right now, and my days have absolutely not gone the way I hoped with respect to accomplishing a list too long, but I'm actually ok with this. I should be worried about why I am ok with this, but I'm not.
Instead tonight my thoughts are actually filled with one very bizarre thing: what if passing gas smelled like the food we ate that caused the gas? I mean really? Sometimes I have a really bad stomach ache and I am asking myself "why? what did I eat?" If our inward consumption matched the outward production then I wouldn't have to ask myself this question and I could make better decisions on what I do and do not want to eat in the future.
A food diary would also work but where's the originality in that?
Tonight Eli said I was acting like a brat. I said "Eli we don't call names. Do I call you names?"
To which he replied "yes".
Oh ya. I do. I mean not like horrible names like "cotton headed ninny muggins" but I have told him he was acting like a jerk or a brat. So that conversation took a turn....
"Let's both stop calling names, deal?"
"Sure mom"
Last weekend Matt hung out with friends at his work Ball and then danced until they turned the lights on at a local country bar. I felt so proud of myself: first for staying awake long enough to be at a bar when they turn the lights back on and second for attempting to dance to country music in some manner that makes sense. I think it is called the two-step, not sure why still, which would explain why I wasn't so great, but I danced and had a blast! I laughed a lot and treasured the fact that as a military spouse I get to go to "grown-up prom" as my sister-in-law and I call it.
Gabe asked me if he could have my phone number when I die.
I really don't have much to add to that. It was weird. I sense that as he gets older and starts appreciating more of my stuff, he will ask for more of it when I die. I'm bracing myself for this now.
Today one of my students that I usually only see at recess came in to my classroom and loudly exclaimed "hey you are my outside teacher". It was extremely rewarding to engage this youngster in a conversation that covered the wildly amazing fact that I am at different moments of the day both outside....and inside. Crazy.
With that I shall summarize: house is a mess and I'm ok with it, passing gas doesn't smell as good coming out as the food that came in, I call my children names, this old lady can still dance the night away, Gabe is awaiting my death so he can have an easy to remember phone number and I am so amazing that I can transport myself both inside and outside.
Happy New Year!
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