I was still in bed this morning at 7:55.
I went to bed around 1am last night. It's becoming a problem. I fear it's a problem that shant ever be cured. Because while it's true that I love sleep, I really don't like night sleep. I'll take my sleep in the ayem, hours thank you. I'd rather be awake before midnight.
Unless you're talking a mid-day nap.
Okay, this is getting complicated.
In a perfect world, I would go to bed at 2 a.m. and rise at 10. Ish. All you morning people? Pipe down. I don't get you.
So, after ruining a perfectly good late-night by watching The Words (don't do it!) I slept like a champ and lolled around in bed for a while after Cory and Calvin got up because it's Christmas vacation and I could.
I was quasi-awake when I heard the thunder. Followed immediately by Silas's screams of terror. (Dude hates funder). He ran in and hopped into my bed and I snuggled up with him and sniffed his neck and told him not to be afraid of the thunder. It's just a sound. It can't hurt you.
Then I wondered why it was thundering in December.
Then I tried to remember the 5-day forecast.
Then I tried to decode the relative lightness of the sky from the shroud of my darkened room. (Rain? Really??)
Then I remembered thunder snow and thought maybe we were getting pounded by a rogue snowstorm! A Nor'easter!
Then I remembered the book I read about "the slowing", how the weather patterns fell apart and the birds stopped flying. Prophetic fiction?
Then I hopped out of bed and pulled back the blind and saw...nothing.
Then Sarah accidentally called me after issuing a text message related to my ill-fated viewing of The Words. We almost never talk on the phone, but who could walk away from an opportunity like that? So we talked.
Then the electricity went out thanks to the garbage man who backed into the telephone pole behind our house and snapped it clean off.
And thus began my day.
We ate cold cereal. I meant to write 3 lines to Robert then accidentally wrote 3 pages. I showered at my in-laws' house.
Calvin thanked me eight or twelve times on the way there. "This is the best day ever!" And he knew we were going to the hospital next. (I want to be him when I grow up.)
And now, a word on my boys:
They fight. All. The. Time. Like, I worry about it sometimes. They are a vicious cycle. I tell them they'll be best friends someday, but I secretly wonder. It got so bad earlier in the week that Cory made them sit on the couch and hold hands and say nice things about each other. "Silas is really good at being mean to Howard (the cat)", etc... It took a little time to get their heads in the game.
Last night Ruby was squirreled away for an over-nighter with Nana and Papa. I was there boiling the noodles when Calvin came in and whispered, "I don't know what happened...all of a sudden, Silas asked me if I would drum with him, and... we just got along." Friends, I almost cried. But I was too busy beaming. It's a miracle. It is.
And today? It continued. (They say catastrophes are bonding experiences. Thank you, garbage man!)
potential future bone marrow transplant*. It's one of those things I've been nervous about off and on for oh, 5 years. I knew it was coming. It's not imminent, but this makes it one step closer to the front door of my cozy reality and I'd kind of like to bust its knee caps.
His doctor talked me through some of my fears. We agreed to settle on praying that whatever needs to happen will happen. I pray a lot of those prayers and I'll be honest, they always seem sort of...unnecessary? But then I remember that it's always right to talk to Jesus about what scares me. He's not waiting on my permission or my directions. He doesn't need me to say a certain thing. But He does like it when I wrap my fear right around Him.
While we waited we ate popcorn and I read an interview with Chelsea Handler. Don't Google her. What you don't know won't hurt you. But if you do know, then you know she's insane. An interview in a lady magazine is probably your best bet as far as a relatively benign encounter goes, though there were a lot of ***s.
She said the best thing ever that I can't stop thinking about: her friend from college based her Sociology thesis on the unique and inspiring dynamics of Chelsea's family. She interviewed Chelsea and each of her 5 or 6 siblings and asked them at the end who they thought was the favorite child. EVERY ONE of them named themself. THAT is my new Mama goal. Hands down. So thank you, Chelsea Handler. You are dirty and I love you.
But I really just wanted to be home, so I warmed up left-overs for the kids.
And then I remembered that cooking is something I mostly love to do. (And, you know, I had already thawed the fish.) So the two Littlests (Calvin is having his turn at Nana's tonight. Best day ever!) went to bed at 6:55 and 7:10 and I made fish tacos and guac for me and my boyfriend.
I think I have now blogged about this meal 3 times. I don't care. I can't help it. It's too pretty and much too zesty. It is a force. A wonder, even.
I had been wearing it for about 5 hours and totally forgot.
I wonder if Calvin's doctor liked it?
In case you care (and you really should):
FPFG's fish tacos
Dice one mango, half a peeled cucumber, a quarter of a jalapeno, 1 Tbsp onion. Stir together with the juice of half a lime, salt, pepper, and chopped cilantro.
Mix one finely-diced chipotle pepper in adobo sauce (add some extra sauce but not too much or your esophagus will incinerate) with about 1/3 c of plain Greek yogurt or sour cream.
Spray skillet then add thawed cod fillets. Sprinkle with chili powder, garlic powder and cumin.
Warm the tortillas.
Chop some purple cabbage.
Assemble tacos. Voila.
PS - *Not on the registry? Go for it! It's super easy. Click here.
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