Follow by Email

Friday, March 6, 2015

I Totes Still Blog Like Cray-cray


Emma asked me if I’ve given up on the blog. I scowled suspiciously at her.

“What are you doing reading that trash? You’re not even ALLOWED to read the blog,” I said.

“I don’t! You just used to talk about it a lot more and I haven’t heard you talk about it.”

I maintained the scowl for another second before telling her that I have sort of let it go, but not permanently, and not on purpose...that with work the way it is, I can’t really write there because even writing on my lunch break, anyone can read over my shoulder and it just doesn’t feel as safe or private.

“Well, you just have to write at night,” she said.

“I know.”

I told her it’s cramping my style.

“It’s totes cramping my style,” I said.

“STOP TRYING TO TALK COOL!”

God, that’s fun.

I haven’t given up on the blog. I just need to adapt to the new situation. You’d think I’d have that kind of thing nailed at this point.  Adapting.
-----------------------


Wednesday morning it snowed. It was warm enough that it immediately turned to slush. I walked out to the driveway to scoop a path to the cul-de-sac because when the bus shows up, I have to walk down the hill in my dress shoes, and if the driveway isn’t cleared at MINIMUM a stride’s width, I’ll lose my ass falling down the hill and slide under the bus, hopefully lifting Lily up high enough as I slide under the wheels that she falls into the bus door before it drives over top of my broken body. Or that’s how it feels walking down the hill. I scooped the slush off the driveway and felt the icy melt-water fill my right shoe and saturate my sock. I groaned.

When I got inside I looked at the sole of my shoe and saw a crack running along the flex of the rubber about three inches wide. Both shoes. I wore them to work anyway, because what else was I going to do? I sat in my wet socks with my cold feet and waited until lunch to go to DSW and buy two pairs of dress shoes.

“Do you have dress socks?” I asked the woman with the name tag carrying a shoebox.

“You mean something dressier than the ones lining this wall?” She pointed at the wall behind me that was lined with dress socks.

“No…something exactly this dressy,” I said, “Not sure how I missed this.”

I matched some socks to my dress pants, tore open the package and changed into the new socks and shoes and tossed the old ones in the box, then paid for everything and left. My feet were considerably warmer.

Thursday morning at 4:00 a.m., Lily decided she was done sleeping for the night. I argued for more sleep by attempting to soothe her back to sleep until about 4:45, when I gave up, showered, then got her up and took her downstairs. It had snowed...was STILL snowing.  We were watching The Wiggles at 5:30 when I saw that school had a two hour delay. We were watching the Wiggles at 7:30 when they canceled it for the day.

Isn't it lovely?  A christmas jigsaw puzzle come to life.  Except it comes standard with
a stir-crazy 9 year old with ADHD...trapped inside...for 15 hours. 
In point of fact, from 5:00 a.m. until 8:00 p.m. …we never stopped watching the Wiggles. I didn’t realize it until about 7:30. Leslie, who ordinarily calls these things after about 4 episodes, had worked from upstairs and hadn’t born witness to the Wiggle-a-thon. 15 straight hours of Wiggles.

It was a weird day. Emma did homework, hung out in her room, and faded in and out of the downstairs for meals, but really I didn’t see much of her. Leslie worked all day upstairs. It was like Lily and I were in the house alone. Watching Wiggles. So. Much. Wiggling.

How did I not notice it was 15 hours? FIFTEEN HOURS!!!

Anyway. See? I still blog.

1 comment:

  1. 15 hours of the Wiggles and blogging coherently. Impressive. ;-)

    ReplyDelete