There’s something I forgot to include in my “shit I don’t understand” post: Facebook/Twitter drama. I just don’t get it. My reactions to people’s posts are pretty much all just slight variations of the following five thoughts:
- That was clever;
- That was not clever;
- Your kid is cute;
- I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole;
I don’t see what there is to get all worked up about. If somebody irritates me repeatedly, I hide them. If they offend me repeatedly, I delete them. VIOLA. Problem solved. No drama.
Anyway, let’s talk about what’s on my mind…
- Parents should not expect to have an undisturbed night’s sleep or go to bed in peace for at least 9 years, and that’s if they only have one kid. Because yes, at some point they stop waking up all night for feeding, but they have a whole slew of other tactics up their sleeves to obliterate nighttime tranquility.
- For example, Rocket has now decided he’s “scared” every night. He weeps. He moans. He cajoles. He already sleeps permanently on our floor, but somehow, now, for reasons yet undisclosed, he needs lights on and people around and if we aren’t physically present in the same room, he weeps in heartbreaking desperation, even though he can hear us bustling about in the rest of the house. It’s so unfair.
- When I clean my house all weekend, I get in a pretty bad mood by the end.
- I cleaned my house all weekend. I’m in a pretty bad mood.
- I’m trying to prepare for this back-to-school nonsense. Clothes, supplies, meetings, logistical arrangements…realizing the nonsense is amplified greatly and vastly more intimidating when I am the school.
- We went to the state fair. It was a state fair – I don’t know what else to say. The carnies scared me to the point I wouldn’t let my kids walk within 5 feet of them. It stunk. It was hot. They sold fried butter. No really, they sold fried butter.
- Mac sent me a text yesterday that said “You are the best wife since before they invented wives.” I’m so easy. I’m so simple. If you want a marriage to work with me, send me random unexpected silly sweet texts. I’m putty in your hands.
- I have thirteen books sitting on my bedside table. THIRTEEN. I start a book, I read some, I stop. I leave it there. I get a new book off the shelf; I read it for awhile. I get bored. I go back to the first one. And on and on and on. Rarely do I pick up a book and read the entire thing uninterrupted. I don’t know why I do that. It’s like literary ADD. Or something.
- I may write a blog post listing the books that are sitting on my bedside table. But I’ll have to get to know you all better. That’s a real glimpse into somebody’s soul, don’t you think? 🙂 Especially if the book is something like “How to love yourself and nurture your inner child.”
That was a joke. I wouldn’t read a book like that. If I read a book like that, I would vomit on myself almost immediately, because that kinda super touchy-feely stuff makes me gag, and nobody likes vomiting right before bed.
Cheers, everybody, have a good week.