Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Same Song 42nd Verse

I've written this post before.  It's the one where I lament about my lack of time and energy and mental clarity but also say I wouldn't trade anything for the intentionally spilled milk at the end of a long, thematic learning day including an astronaut suit and a matching cookie from the bakery even if it means changing my clothes and the sheets just when I thought I was about to punch out my timecard after a 12 hour shift and 1 private bathroom break and the pool being closed because someone (I will hunt you and I will find you, and then I will lecture you) brought glass into it and it shattered and I got the sweetest hugs and heard the sweetest mispronunciation of words and felt a huge victory at figuring out "baby toes" means a request for "Veggie Tales" and a huge defeat at learning vegetables think the people of Ninevah slapped each other with fish and trying to read the correct version of Jonah to my son of the same name and feeling defeated that my not-even-two year old had a much stronger preference for Jamberry but remembering my swelling pride in the achievements he reached earlier in the day and wanting a break but not wanting to be away but feeling like I'm never alone because I'm never alone, and trying to lose the baby weight from aforementioned almost two year old and wondering if I should start faking a late-announced pregnancy and sudden birth and carry around a baby doll to act like it's baby weight from a more recent baby but knowing that plan derails when said baby doll doesn't get any bigger, or move, or gets left in the hatchback while I run into HEB for the FOURTH time since Sunday and we still are low on milk and I wonder how is that even mathematically, physically possible but figure it's due to the fact that I can't start using my new planner until Friday so I have things written down on my phone and my old planner and August dates in my new one and no, you may not throw a real baseball down the stairs and yes, I am sure we will get a dog someday because we all seem to need something else to take care of and we might as well test out those awesome vinyl floors we are saving up to get because I decided I love real wood too much to put hand scraped Tobacco Road Acacia in a track house that is storing what was originally the genius idea of Christmas in July to make the fall semester easier on Santa but is now a bunch of Amazon boxes of Daniel Tiger paraphernalia when I am the only one here now who likes Daniel Tiger.

Yes. It's that post.

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