You are currently browsing posts tagged with humor
When my Ty was born, Dave would actually try and compete with me on over who was the “most tired.” I would say, “I am sooooooooooooooooooooo tired!” and he would say, “Me, too.” And I would say, “But not as tired as I am.” And he would sorta squint and look at me and say, “I think I might be” and then I would say,”No, Dave. That is not possible. I am nourishing another human being from my (said in a whisper) breast every two hours.” I would say, “Dave, I am tired at my ROOT. I am tired at my CORE.”
In an effort to streamline things, we have now abbreviated the whole mess to I am “tired at my root-core.” And the phrase lives on. Oh, we can really throw down on this one. Dave has two jobs working with teenagers that require him to commute to two different cities and he usually works 2 weekends a month as well. Plus, when he walks through the door, he is expected to be daddy and uncle Dave and be smiling and happy and give me a foot rub. Me? Well, I am in charge of five kids ranging in age from 1-14. Enough said.
We’re tired.
Can I get a witness?
Most days I tackle our life with grace and aplomb. Not really. Most days I tackle our life with a gritty determination to do my best and not send anyone into therapy. To get all the hugs in. To make sure they are all fed. To listen to my gut. To pray. To breathe. To get a shower in, if not make-up on. To kiss my husband when he walks through the door. To call my mom. To parent with intention.
But April nearly killed me.
And it bled a bit over into May.
These last few weeks included a very sick one year old, three trips to the ER –two trips for head lacerations on two different kids and one of those trips was for me because I broke my toe. And if anyone thinks I am being a wimp about a broken toe, come on over and ram your toe into the mega vacuum cleaner we own. No? Okay, let me continue with my list. These last few weeks included sports for three of the kids — that’s Track, Soccer, and Martial Arts — a 1/2 dozen birthday parties to ATTEND and two to HOST, Dave starting a new job, and a huge project that I cannot even begin to tell you all about because it is just that top secret. I am also the room mom for preschool and for some reason I just signed a permission slip last night for Izzy to attend and help out at the school carnival. Whah? I know it is all just LIFE and I am not complaining. But last night I decided to up the ante on our “tired competition.” As I was coming home from a preschool board meeting after spending a total of four hours and 7 phone calls trying to restore our internet and a Costco run that had my broken toe throbbing, I looked over as Dave was pulling in the driveway from swim practice. I said to him. “Hey Dave, my root-core just BROKE!”
He stopped. Looked at me. “Well, okay… you win!”
A-ha!
I win!
I am the most tiredest of us all! I win!
I wonder what my prize is?
One time, a long time ago, I found a giant strawberry that I swear looked like Jesus. I suppose if I was more devout I could have made the news or have been invited to the Vatican.
Last night, Jade did me one better.
At dinner I noticed that she appeared to be blowing her nose into her glass of milk. “Jade,” I say with as much disgust that I can muster, “What are you doing?”
“There are bubbles in my milk,” she replies with perfect candor and seriousness. ”And I had to blow on them because there were really freaking me out cuz they looked like SKULLS!”
You be the judge:
I feel like I need to apologize to everyone out there who actually has a hair style.
I am not trying to be self-effacing, but the hard bitter truth is that, well, I have let me hair sorta flounder. And by flounder, I mean, look really bad most of the time.
I have pretty much learned to convince myself that a pony tail transformed into a bun with my bangs clipped back (since they have not been trimmed in months) is, well, rather bohemian looking. Yeah, that’t it… bohemian.. or even better… Suburban Bohemian. I just can’t quite understand why the look hasn’t caught on… okay, not really. I totally get it.
I knew things had gotten to apocalypic proportions when I found a matte of hair in my hair. Ya know, the kind of thing you might find on your dog or cat. Then I actually had to stop and think…. huh… when was the last time I brushed my hair? I mean, like really BRUSHED it. Hard. When I couldn’t remember, I knew I was in trouble. But it didn’t really stop me from just pushing this mop into another rag-tag pony tail, shrugging my shoulders and heading downstairs in a bee-line to the coffee pot. Later that night, my husband cut out the matte. Sexy, eh?
Let me back up. I have really thick hair. Like enough-for-three-people thick. Really. So finding a hairstyle that actually works is sorta like finding (enter cliche) a needle in a haystack. So, when time and money are scarce, I tend to sorta give up on the whole epic hairstyle adventure. Then I buy hair bands and have Izzy work up some sort of “do” that I can pass off with “Hey, my 12 year old did my hair!” and then I am good to go. At least no one will acuse me of being vain.
Okay, a little bit vain because I am not showing you a picture.
The good news is this. It finally has gotten to the point where even I can’t stand it and so I have a hair appointment TONIGHT in Seattle.
I am afraid of what Heather might say to me. Like, “You are NOT using Costco shampoo and conditioner?” Or “Seriously? What do you expect me to do with this mess?” Or ” It’s been a while… I mean, a WHILE.”
But I am hopeful that she can make my pony tail look much much better.
Pictures coming later this week. And a halo for Heather.
Remember back to when I mentioned that Feburary was DENTAL HEALTH MONTH? Well, I had asked you to please warn me when POKE YOURSELF IN THE EYE month was coming? Remember all that nonsense? Well, I am so glad I brought it up. Because my friend, Beck, was the first (and only, I might add) to warn me that MARCH is, indeed, POKE YOURSELF IN THE EYE month!
Ah man. I am so glad someone told me.
So glad.
Here is how we celebrated:
She said, “Hey, this girl doesn’t even flinch… wow!”
I guess, technically, Izzy isn’t poking HERSELF in the eye. But, it was the best we could do.
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »
