Happy Mother’s Day to all the Amused Mamas out there…and you know who you are: The mamas who get a painted rock and act like it’s a rare Picasso; the mamas who would sell their souls for a few minutes alone in the bathroom without small people pounding on the door, the mamas who talk about boogers and poop over margaritas with the other mamas, and the mamas who never run out of things to laugh at with their small boys and girls! Enjoy, hope you all got to sleep in or eat some chocolate without having to share )
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more glamorous, SB’s delightful dinner behavior launched a discussion about why boogers aren’t food. His reaction to my big speech? ”Well, why are they there then?”
I just had to reassure SB that hot dogs aren’t actually made out of DOGS, and a very funny friend of mine said on Facebook, “just wait until he discovers Girl Scout Cookies”. Really?
BB (Big Boy)’s putting SB to bed upstairs and I’m screwed again. The only way to get past his room undetected is to either burrow under the carpet like a gopher and try to sneak by, or to crawl on my belly, Navy Seal-like, past his door and hope he doesn’t see me. If I am spotted, it adds at least 15 minutes to the bedtime extravaganza. Pray for me. I’m going in.
SB (small boy) just walked by and casually swatted me on the butt like football players do. If he calls me “champ” I’m out of here…
SB (small boy) “blasted off” (his words, not mine) on a plane to Sacramento with his papa yesterday. After they left, I realized that this is the first time I’ve been home for a few days by myself in SIX YEARS.
Six years. Wowee. So what am I doing? Half of me wants to do the “Risky Business Underwear Dance” and celebrate, and the other half is kind of stunned by all the silence. Last night I literally bounced around for about two hours doing laundry, tidying up, feeding pets, etc., and after all that figured it was probably time to go to bed. It was 7:45. Not good. So did I do something productive, like exercise? No. I snacked and watched three hours of TV. Uh oh…
In order to maintain some semblance of order and avoid turning into a 400 pound slug in the next two days, I came up with a “to do” list:
Shop for jeans
Buy dog food
I swear to God that’s what I wrote. I actually have “do nothing” on my list. Am I going to forget? Can I cross it off on Sunday night? How much nothing should I do before I can check it off? Apparently I’m going to need an agenda for all the nothing that I’m planning on doing. And if I plan on doing nothing, is it really nothing or is it something?
Maybe I’ll just stop doing nothing and take a nap instead.
Two things I actually said today:
“Do NOT pick your nose with Sheriff Woody’s fingers!”
“Stay away from that chainsaw!” (in our defense, it wasn’t laying around in our living room, we were on a hike and they were clearing dead trees from the trail).