Friday, February 13, 2015

Al Capone Lives With Me

It has been a week of firsts. (I'm going to be like one of those completely annoying videos that say "watch to the very end to see what this mom/horse/alien did that was so amazing" and then you watch and it's completely anti-climactic and you go I just spent 3 minutes and 42 seconds of my life--that I will never, ever get back--watching someone else go fishing? Let's just all do the world a favor and stop the madness. #stopsharing But anyways, read to the very end to find out what is so amazing. Spoiler Alert: It's God.)

I got my first ever note from a class participant, explaining that she is breaking up with me and my barre class, and that it isn't me, it's her, because she has broken her wrist, and that she loves the class and hopes to be back soon. Usually people just stop showing up, leaving you to wonder if it really is you.

Relationships are tricky.

Yesterday, a child defecated in my driveway. Yes. He pooped right in the drive. And yes, he is certainly well beyond an age where pooping anywhere but in the potty is acceptable.

My daughter was apparently the one in charge during this drama, she of the "act now, ask questions later" mindset (it is possible that she would make an excellent crime boss), so I only heard about the incident after it was over. I also have visual proof on my phone, also taken by Al(ice) Capone, which I will not be sharing with you today.

I had questions.

What? What what? What the what?
Who did it? (Just so you know, it was not my child. Whew.)
Did he just pull down his pants and go?
Why did he do this?
Does he know we have bathrooms? With toilets? And plenty of paper? 
What happened to the poo?
What did you do?
Did anyone else see?

Let's just say this. She made the offender take care of his own business.

Welcome, Bugsy. Make yourself at home.

My son lied to me, right to my face, about listening to Bruno Mars radio on Pandora this morning, which I could clearly hear, even though he insisted I did not hear what I CLEARLY HEARD.

I'm thinking about siccing Busgy on his butt.

And another first: my husband and I have decided that we will not be exchanging gifts this year to celebrate Valentines Day, and we've also decided to stay in rather than get dressed up in jeans (what, your kids haven't ever said to you "mom, why are you so dressed up?" and all you have on is a pair of jeans and a sweater? Is it only me?) to go pay for someone else to cook our dinner. (Just as an aside, I was finishing my dinner when the clock struck 5:00 yesterday--my sister will appreciate this, as she teases about my early eating habits--and I just thought to myself you might be getting older eat your dinner at 4:42 on a Thursday evening but here's the real dealio: age ain't nothin' but a number, baby, and I was hungry at 4:42. So I ate.)

Last year I started drinking coffee, because why? I don't know. I can't explain why I started drinking coffee. I had a moment of sleep-deprived weakness in 2014 and made coffee and now when I wake up and think today will be a coffee-free day, my body goes ohh-ho-ho-hoooo, you thought you could do without caffeine, did you, now? Let's play. I know this because I woke up this morning after a full eight hours of sleep feeling like I could have slept two more, and the I need more sleep feeling hasn't worn off. I thought briefly about upping my coffee intake, but I need more caffeine like I need a hole in the head.

I'm dealing. (By taking breaks and staring off into space and sipping coffee and realizing in moments of clarity that while I sit here typing, the laundry isn't doing itself.)


I've learned a few things from this week:

1) Caffeine is good. Coffee breath is not. Brush your teeth.
2) Bugsy Siegel is here to stay. And I like it.
3) Kids have issues.
4) So do I.
5) I can stay at home and not go out and not get gifts and I still love my husband. And he loves me.
6) I'm okay eating dinner during the Senior Power Hour. The K& The W would welcome me.
7) I am a pretty good barre teacher, as far as one person is concerned, and sometimes, it really isn't me.
8) Houses don't clean themselves. And a clone of me would be awesome.
9) I put off things I don't want to do. (See #8 above.)
10) With Valentines Day fast approaching, and all the hoop-la and fake hearts and kisses and hugs and I love yous that go along with it, I have come to understand that Christ's love is an amazing, crazy, incredible love, a love that I don't fully understand or appreciate, a love that I desperately want, because it fills my life, which I know because I've tried lots of different fillings, and only One will do. I want to taste the freedom He brings, to grasp it with both hands and then let go of everything else, even if it means letting go of myself and what I've lived for for so very long. (Beauty, I'm looking at you. You too, weight and your sister, The Scale.) I need to trust that He is good, because if I can't or won't or don't, then I'm putting myself back in charge, and I'm not an excellent crime boss, as surprising as this may be to some of you. His love is overwhelming and I want to lose myself in it so I can find myself again. And this is something that no movie or book can take the place of. (You know what I mean, don't you? It's created quite the buzz, so I don't want to talk about it too much, so as to lose the focus on what's really important. #50Ihaven'treaditsoIcan'tappreciatethehype)

so what do I know of you
who spoke me into motion
where have I even stood, 
but the shore along your ocean
are you fire, are you fury
are you sacred, are you beautiful
so what do I know
what do I know of holy
{addison road}

No comments:

Post a Comment