Sleep, write, twirl
Even though I slept a whole lot more this weekend than I have in at least two weeks, I am only slightly recovered from my previous knuckle-dragging ogrish state of exhaustion and feel like it will take at least two weeks of 8+ hours of sleep a night to feel back to normal, whatever that is. However, I am putting my underwear on right-side out and have not spilled anything on my shirt in two days, so things are heading in the right direction. The next hurdle (after procuring another adult for parent duties in the house for more than two days at a time) is getting Rosie to go to sleep in less than an hour and a half, which has not been happening for the last her whole life couple of weeks. Nights are quite grim until she is finally mute and snoozing, and I think I can actually feel another hair turn gray every time I hear a foot hit the floor or hear the word “Mama” after 8 p.m. Soon, though, it will all be cake and unicorns when we turn out the lights. I know this is true, so don’t even try to tell me anything else.
Back when Noah was asked to keep the class caterpillars over Spring Break, his teachers included a spiral-bound notebook so that he could document the thrilling day-by-day happenings of 20-something non-moving, unidentifiable brown lumps in covered jars if he felt so inclined. Noah took this to heart and dutifully recorded a sentence every day. Of course he did. After my blogging efforts last week, his feat of spinning nothing (and I do mean absolutely nothing, no action whatsoever—those buggers could have been dead for all I know) into a hilarious read with 3-D exclamation points puts me to shame. Slash makes me quite proud and want to unabashedly claim this talent of his as a skill inherited from my genes.
(My favorites are Wensday and the second Sunday.)
Remember those dresses you had as a little girl that flaired all the way out when you twirled around that made you feel like you were wearing a fancy ballroom gown, and how those were the ones you spent afternoons getting dizzy in, making the bottom sail out around you and then twist tightly around your legs only to slowly unravel to straight when you stopped while you stood with your arms out to the side trying to make the world around you stop spinning?
Yeah, I think Rosie’s gonna be into that.