Yesterday I woke up and spontaneously decided to do absolutely nothing.
It. was. glorious.

In the past when I’ve executed lazy days, I’ve always felt a tremendous amount of guilt… so much so it completely sabotaged any joy I was trying to juice from day-long Austen Movie Marathons. Well. Yesterday was an exemption. To add joy to joyous, the two piano lessons I had scheduled to teach called up and cancelled! It was like providence!

Aside from the usual daily ins and outs, I was free as a bird.
“Kids,” I said, gathering them around me in the morning, “Today is Relaxi-Day, okay? We’re going to have all day be rest day.”
THAT automatically made me the world’s uncoolest mom, but hey. At least she’s sane, ladies and gents. At least she’s sane.

On a side note, I think the Lord assigns special angels to survey the earth.
“Pin point stay at home mothers who are taking the day for themselves and then prompt everyone in town to go over and visit them…” and then they all have a good laugh watching us scramble to put up our hair, put away the blankets on the couch, get rid of the ice cream bowl, slab on make-up (and a bra, for that matter), light a candle (it SEEMS cleaner if it smells good, right?), and bark at the children (“underwear OFF the floor, you are NOT a dog, stop throwing, and do I have to ask again: GET THOSE UNDEROOS OFF THE FLOOR!”), and then politely sweep open the door to welcome visitors with a pleasant smile and a mouthful of apologies for the state of the house and the stench coming from the direction of my unshowered self.

I’d laugh my buns off watching that from above. Real-life comedy show. But then: most of reality is something of a comedy show… like the way I feel when my husband uses the lap top until the battery is borderline DEAD, closes the lid, and then leaves it for me to find. Which I do. After I’ve situated myself comfortably down on the couch. Of course the cord to plug the computer in is ALWAYS at the other end of the house. It’s got the same laughability effect as the whole “empty ice tray in the freezer” situation.
Ah, life.

My kids are champions when it comes to staying outta the way, mostly because they know they can get away with so much more when mom’s checked out for the day. Nutella sandwiches around! Conversation hearts for lunch! Make a fort from the kitchen table!

What did I do? Shuttling the girl aside, attending a preschool pizza party aside, and delivering my husband’s wallet to him at work aside?

I watched an 18-episode television show. Isn’t that ghastly? It was a terrible show about a family who ran a hotel in the 1920s. The first 8 episodes were absolutely gripping. The next ten? Soap-opera at best. I was spoiled with both great plot and good acting AND terrible acting and cheesy dialogue.
“Go ahead, Marcus. Tell them. Tell them what you’ve done. Tell them how you’ve been in love with their mother -your own brother’s wife and THEIR mother all their lives. Tell them how you pursued her!” Marcus’ wife would yell.
“ENOUGH!” Marcus would glare at his wife. Who, by the way, happened to fake a pregnancy and BUY a baby from a poor mother so far in debt she was reduced to selling her unborn child. Marcus had no idea, by the way. He was duped. Not like it mattered. He was too love sick over his brother’s wife to notice the pillow under his wife’s maternity dress.
All the while, there was a soldier son who had the audacity to fall in love with a chambermaid.

I’m telling you: it was all too wonderful and perfect. Hilarious.
By the end of the day, I had myself convinced I could write a scintillating soap opera that would be absolutely gripping to people who took it seriously and gut-wrenching hilarious to those who didn’t. I even started planning music cues to go with dramatic expressions.
You really ought to have seen it go on, you know, in my head…

Anyway, yesterday gave me just enough time off to make me feel ready to start today with renewed umph. Today will be much better.
No chocolate sandwiches.
No rejoicing over the treasure chest I found in the freezer (cookie dough I had frozen and forgot about -heh-ven!).
No sweats.
Today is going to be all sunlight, fresh air, and home cooked food.
And then, at the end of the day when I’ve showered and dressed, cooked and cleaned, I’ll look around and wonder why NO ONE bothered to stop by.
I blame those angels. Is it possible for angels to be rotten? Maybe just a little?

Before “over and outing” I’m going to leave you with a few pictures of our little Blu.
Blu is the bird Santa brought to the girl, and Blu is the bird we’ve all fallen in love with. It also happens that Blu absolutely hates strangers and bites every single one of them, but Blu loves us. Loyal little thing.

Blu goes everywhere with Lacy, per Lacy’s orders.
Blu even sits on me while I craft and poops on the shoulder of my new white shirt. Yay! Per Lacy’s orders, I am Grandma now.
“Come on, Blu,” Lacy’s says in a high-pitched voice, the kind you use to talk to babies, “Let’s go see Grandma…” and then she plops the bird on me.
It’s fine, really. She might as well call me grandma. Ever since we went ice skating, the boy insists on calling me “Skater Mom.”
Between being “Skater Mom” which makes me feel 15 and “Grandma” which makes me feel 50… I somehow feel all right with the world.

Oh, Blu. You patient little thing.


  1. Jamie Burt says:

    next lets start up a business called relaxi-cab! “you know like taxi-cab”

    • “It’s a Relaxi-Taxi!” Haha! I totally thought of that too! Ah, Friends. We could pick our favorite episodes for our next date night AFTER our Flagstaff date night. We might as well start just mapping out our date nights and forcing the boys to go along-with. Haha, poor things.

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