Do you ever have days when you stare at your blog and think, “Why? What’s the point? Just walk away and live your life rather than write about it,”?
Then you realize that living your life means doing a fourth load of laundry and wiping somebody’s butt, so you figure you might as well blog because even the act of writing drivel is more exercise for you brain than the alternatives.
The problem today is that I don’t want to write drivel. I’ve had all kinds of thoughts swirling in my head recently that I want to spew out into a blog post; but today I just feel brain dead and I don’t think I can do my thoughts justice. I can barely think them, let alone write them.
I think I am just experiencing July Parade of Visitors let-down. You know how they talk about post-wedding blues and whatnot? We’ve had 19 visitors in four shifts ranging from about 24 hours to the better part of five days (and a couple that wedged in for a few hours between overnight guests), and hosted a Boy Scout campout where none of the scouts brought tents because they thought they would be camping out on my family room floor (what the hell???) all since the beginning of July. Oh, and? My new family room furniture arrived in the midst of all that.
Yay for new furniture! But then I was all paranoid every time somebody sat on it or napped on it because? Hello! New furniture! Sit carefully! Get your riveted jeans off the leather!! Don’t scooch on it! I knew, however, that I was being irrational. Furniture is made for people to heft their bodies around on, riveted jeans and all. So I said nothing but died a little bit inside each time our company didn’t graciously sit on the floor for the first three days or so of the furniture being here. Yes, I already said I knew it was irrational.
Anyway, all the company has been fun. It has been great to see family and friends! But now I’m feeling a bit like a puddle of goo. Is it wrong to want to do nothing but hang out in my pajamas all day and watch the kids play Boggle while I blog and surf?
In my defense, I have already cleaned the kitchen, done some laundry, and made sure the kids had breakfast and lunch. So it’s not like I’ve been a total slug.
At any rate, since last I blogged, Tank Boy has decided that Boggle is his new favorite game. He never wins (unless we’re really throwing the game for him), but he consistently scores legitimate points and seems to understand what an accomplishment that is given that he is playing against much older siblings and adults, and he is only five.
Midge is now reading the fourth Harry Potter book after doing a little begging this morning. I was going to make her wait six months or so because she kept getting scared by the first three. But I am in slug mode today and didn’t have it in me to deal with the whining.
Quinn is talking more and more each day, so that is heartening. He still prefers to hang out in his underwear. I think he’s happy all the company is gone because I’m not making him wear pants today. He is also sounding out small words and trying to sound out big ones. Did I already blog about that? He is currently trying to sound out my “JOURNALISTS DO IT WRITE!” t-shirt. Yeah, not much success there.
I am almost done purchasing curriculum for our upcoming home school year. The kids are already asking me to load the Rosetta Stone software on my laptop so they can start their Latin lessons, PLEASE . . . ! Tank Boy keeps asking me when he gets to start doing school. I scored Cool Home School Mom points with A~ when I picked up an SAT/ACT vocab test prep book based entirely on Twilight to supplement her harder hitting vocab books.
I have been called to be the primary chorister in our ward (congregation). This means I am the one singing and waving her arm around as I attempt to teach songs to children ages 3-11. Actually, ages 18 months to 11. I spend a little time with the nursery kids, too.
This is humorous, because I don’t sing. I mean, I do sing. I like to sing. I like to sing a lot, actually. I walk around the house making up new words to actual songs to fit my mood or whatever is going on at the time, and my kids think I’m nutty. But I don’t like for people who aren’t my husband or children to hear me sing. Last Sunday was my first official week as the primary chorister. I told the kids they had to sing loudly or they would hear me, and nobody wants to hear me. It seemed to work.
I have started working on some visual aids for this Sunday. I also need to write a talk for sacrament meeting. I wrote most of it in my head yesterday while I was mowing the grass, but, of course, it’s pretty much gone now. Somebody smarter than I needs to invent a contraption that can type out the words as you think them.
No, scratch that. Too dangerous.
I have now spent about half an hour writing roughly fifteen endings for this post, each more boring and twaddle-ish than the last, so I’ll just end it here, rather bluntly, okay?
And George, if you’re out here, Tewt the Newt says whatever.