Good morning, everyone. Hope this entry finds you well, and that you too are having a quiet morning. Today, I’m astounded with how much extra time I had this morning. Before the rest of the house stirred awake, I’ve already cleaned the kitchen, wiped down the coffee bar, started a new grocery list, and I even had time to wrestle with one of my Plex libraries that randomly started malfunctioning. I’m bringing that smug ealier than thou energy this morning, so to speak.
And I credit all the extra time to a new simple trick Marissa and I started doing to get us to go to bed earlier. I’ve set my phone alarm to go off at 12:10 AM on Sunday through Thursday nights - our cue to button up the house for the night and head upstairs. Naturally, my song choice was “Closing Time”.
With my phone propped up against the banister, I shooed the dogs outside for a final bathroom break, we turned off all the lights on the main floor, and we were in bed by 12:30. I would almost think some congratulations were in order if I - you know - weren’t an adult who was supposed to be going to bed at a reasonable time anyway.
Sip. So how was your Monday? I don’t know about you, but I had one of those days where all the supplies in our house that I stock about once of month were suddenly depleted. Off the top of my head, we’re running low on toothpaste, paper towels, ziploc bags, garbage bags, glasses cleaner, and Windex. On top of that, we’re also at peak garbage stress. Last week, a bunch of online deliveries converged, and the sudden swell of garbage and cardboard brought our home garbage pipeline to a screeching halt. With both our cans stuffed full, I proceeded to line up several black garbages bags along the side our fence (and now that I write this, I realize that’s probably what happened to all of our garbage bags).
Over coffee before Rodney woke up, Marissa and I hatched a battle plan at the dining room table.
“I’ll make a Target order. I’ll have them just mail everything that they don’t have in store,” said Marissa, taking a tired sip of coffee.
More mail. More cardboard. More garbage.
“We’re also out of milk and juice,” I added. “Want to order some breakfast from McDonald’s or something? Then we can order him milk.”
Marissa retrieved her phone and swiftly opened Grubhub. “Can we do Denny’s instead?” she asked. I nodded and relocated to the computer to put in a grocery order.
“I’m just getting us three Lumberjack Slams,” she said. “And they don’t have drinks - Rodney can just have water, right?”
I began to laugh. “That’s the whole reason we were ordering breakfast,” I mocked, spinning around in the computer chair. “We’re not doing this just for the sake of getting Denny’s.” Marissa began to laugh.
“Good point, wait - they do have drinks. OK I’ll get him some milk,” she said.
“Oh excellent - Denny’s is saved,” I teased.
Getting Rodney out of bed, I decided have a little fun with him. “Sssh,” I warned. “Mom is still sleeping. And we’re out of milk and juice - you just have to drink water.”
Rodney nodded. I could see him trying to hide his disappointment. He doesn’t drink coffee, so I suspect that to him, going without a cold glass of milk in the morning is like me skipping coffee - unthinkable.
A grin spread across his face as he entered the dining room. “Momma’s awake?” he said sleepily. Marissa opened her arms over a table of three freshly delivered Grand Slams and a chilly sippie cup of milk.
Later that day, Rodney and I would take a trip to Woodman’s. We’ve developed a small friendship with the guy that brings us our groceries. Since he always points out the Bears sticker on our back window, Rodney just calls him Bears.
“WHAT’S UP LITTLE MAN!” he said, approaching our trunk.
“BEARS! LOOK WHAT I GOT?” yelled Rodney, straining to hold up his Highlights magazine out to the side.
“OOOH, what you got?” he asked, excitedly. Six feet from each other, Rodney and Bears practically read three full pages of the magazine together before he shut our trunk and waved us on.
Back at home, after putting the groceries away, I got to cooking dinner. We had some fried cod and roasted vegetables with a butter cream sauce. After dinner, we watched the highly anticipated new Dude Perfect video, and I went upstairs to put Rodney to bed. As he put his toys and books away, I began to unpack his new pajamas. Rodney noticed them immediately, his eyes fixed on the new strange pair of pajamas like a hostile, unwelcome invader in his wardrobe.
“I don’t want to wear these,” said Rodney beginning to sob. “They make me sad.”
“I know,” I said patiently. “It’s OK to cry, but you have to wear them.”
Rodney waled, stretching out the simple act of getting dressed into fifteen angry, tearful minutes. When he had finally calmed down, we read a story and I put him to bed.
“You handled that a lot better than I would have,” said Marissa.
“Oh thanks,” I said, shutting the door of his room. “I was ready for it this time. My goal was just to show him how crying and throwing a fit didn’t accomplish anything.”
Rodney’s room already fell silent. He was fast asleep minutes after shutting his door.
“Other than tiring him out,” Marissa laughed.
“You should have seen how he was walking,” I said, beginning to quietly snicker. “After he had them on, it was like he was trying to move as little as possible. He walked to the bathroom hunched over without straightening his legs.”
I mimicked the strange, stubborn walk through the hallway into the bathroom. Marissa dipped her head into Miles room so her snickering wouldn’t be heard.
I avoid teasing my son at all costs. I try not to use things that upset him for a cheap blog laugh, but today I make an exception for the new pajama meltdown. The image of Rodney with a stubborn frown, angry squinting eyes, squat walking to the bathroom because he thinks that even just straightening his back and legs would be an undeserved endorsement of his shiny new colorful alphabet jammies - it was all just too funny. And I think that if he were in my shoes, he would think it was funny too.
Thanks for stopping by today. I hope you have a wonderful day today.