It's finals time and of course that means I am full of objects I would like to blog about,
- The other day I held the phone to my ear for nearly 3 minutes and couldn't figure out why my phone wasn't dialing..... it wasn't until I went to hang up to try to call tech support that I figured it out, my phone isn't broke, I just had "dialed" Scott on the calculator....
- I have been speaking in Luke Bryan lyrics lately.
- We have started paying Luke and Max to fall asleep in their own bed for bedtime and naps. It has worked well until today when they refused to nap.
- To pull out one more procrastination technique i am about to attempt to set up Max's new bed by myself to get it out of the living room.
- If I had a dollar for every time someone said to me "I dont know how you do it all." I would be able to hire a nanny so I really could give it an honest effort. The truth is, I dont do it all, what you see are moments of gathered-ness. But i promise you, swear to you, that if you followed me around every minute of the day you would see just how little I have gathered. My house looks post-apocalyptical, I cant remember a damn thing if it isnt written down, I dont do may baskets, I make a crummy tooth fairy, and when Luke says fart is sounds like another f word that is far more inappropriate.
- Also, at no less than 3 times every single day I type up a cryptic facebook status that says something like "Sabrina Smead is failing at motherhood" or "I am 15 more minutes away from locking myself in the closet." or "I wonder if they would find me if I climbed up on the roof" I try to post the funny stuff instead so when the Timehop app tells me what I said a year ago today, I wont be chronically reminded about how much i wanted to run away from the little humans who call me mom.
- There has been at least one offspring of mine crying since 4pm tonight. They are finally passing out thanks entirely to a hectic schedule this week and meletonin gummies. When Scott called one was crying in one room because his dad wasn't home (I don't blame him I was too,) one was crying because the first one was crying, in the other room, a child was crying because he didn't want to sleep in his new bed (the one that I spent 2 hours of my life I will never get back putting together,) and the last was pouting because I wouldn't let his roommate sleep in his bed. Scott is scheduled to walk in the door any time in the next 10 minutes and they have conveniently passed out, silent as goldfish, and making me look like a liar.
- I found an instagram account called drpimplepopper and I CANT..STOP...WATCHING. Its so incredibly gross, and I exercise my gag reflex each and every video. check it out, I dare you.
- The bed, the blasted Junior Loft bed that came via Amazon Prime. When I ordered, it was raining, so I figured it would be no sweat to have it assembled for Max to sleep in. What really happened is the shipment was late and the ground dried up enough that Scott retreated to a field and I was stuck with a giant bunk bed box in my living room. Here is what I know friends, my hands were not made for assembling furniture,,. in fact, I am pretty sure there was a clause in our marriage vows that stated "to love, honor, and put together furniture."
- Something keeps happening at church when I walk myself up the asle to take communion. no matter how i do it, no matter the strategic planning in my head, how I move my fingers, I always end up with a giant piece of bread. I try to pinch off a modest amount and always end up with some momentary Hulk-like strength that nearly pulls the whole loaf off the plate and into my hands. My own hypothesis is that God just knows those days when I need a little more body to go with the blood. That He knows after hours of arguing about why you aren't wearing dirty jeans or bringing your toy guns and holster to church, brushing tiny little teeth, finding matching shoes, changing clothes again after a breakfast spill, and a last minute poop on the way out the door, that i am already defeated before I even walk through the door. He knows exactly what my week will look like before I even have a chance to glance in my planner. Its like He is telling me, its okay, you need a little more than a pinch to get through the rest of this week.
So my point is this, motherhood is not for the weak of heart. Its hairy, and dirty and smelly. But it is also beautiful, I am so thankful tomorrow is another day, with new opportunities to smile and be together. These little boogers may be a big pain in my keister, but they are MY boogers, and I love them more than the air that I breathe.
