Gracious, sometimes my senseless optimism appalls even me.
|Completely, totally me today.|
So we're sticking close to the house today, because to do otherwise would be folly, especially for anyone unlucky enough to cross my path and say such provoking things as "Hello," and "Good to see you!"
At some point during the night/morning/day/what does time even mean anymore, I decided to just give it up and go for a run. I'd planned on a morning run, anyway, to stay ahead of the heat.
This ended up being a good idea for two important reasons: I got to bear witness to another summer sunrise over Iowa, and I had so much cranky frustration still sizzling over me at my turn-around point I decided to run an extra couple miles, leaving all that emotional tar smeared over the trail rather than on our children. I got home and collapsed for a couple blissful hours, as said children are finally getting the hang of sleeping in. Kind of.
After so many years, I've got a pretty decent formula for what our day needs (yes, needs) to look like after a bad, bad night. Everyone gets more chores than usual, which perhaps doesn't sound like the ingredients for a magical childhood but hello, have you seen Mary Poppins? That chick knew what she was talking/singing about. I give a rousing speech on pulling together and working hard and the importance of contributing to our collective household, with the promise of an after-chore movie of my choosing, because there are perks to being the mother.
Now, while I will not lead you to believe that the kiddos in question skip merrily around the domicile, sweeping and dusting, I will say that if we're all working at the same time, I get very little flack from said munchkins, and I'm in a way better mood when the house is in order, because if Momma ain't happy, etc, etc; the opposite is also true.
It's Atticus's night to help with supper, so the bulk of his work was on supper prep. He made his first blackberry cobbler, chosen because it's super simple and absolutely capable of being executed by a seven year old. Please note that the blackberries contained therein are store-bought, as I am still shuddering over last week's wild berry incident.
He also made crock pot fixin's. I didn't get a picture of those because they're not as exciting as cobbler. I mean, what is?
After all that, we settled down to watch The Wizard of Oz, which all of our children have either read or listened to on audiobook, but only Adelaide has seen the movie, and that was several years ago.
Two out of three Crisler offspring thoroughly enjoyed it. That third one noted, "That's not what Kansas looks like!" Then he cocked his head, squinted, and said, "Well, sometimes it does, a little."
Did you know that L. Frank Baum had never been to Kansas when he wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? He based his descriptions of my home state on his travels across Nebraska. I have a decided opinion on this, but being a Christian woman, I can't say it.
Tomorrow we'll venture back out to the land of the living, hopefully at least marginally rested; I already feel better for our little mini-vacation/staycation. Several times today I've given thanks for the fact that our lives have the flexibility to enjoy a day like this one when we need it.
On a barely related note: How do you feel about this new term "staycation"? I vacillate between almost liking it and wanting it to burn in modern vocabulary hell.