Princess Dawdle is . . . well . . . a dawdler. Every day she goes about her grooming rituals until someone tells her it's time to leave. Monday morning her brother wasn't going to school at the same time she was, but no one told her. She just kept at it, waiting for Ladies Man to tell her when it was time to go. I thought she'd be ready at the normal time, and when she wasn't I had to go searching for her. We had a little "discussion" on the way to school about how being late was going to be her fault.
Me: You're going to be late to school every day next year. You have to quit relying on other people to tell you when you have to be ready.
Princess Dawdle: Ladies Man wasn't up so I didn't think it was time.
Me: But you know what time you have to leave. Why were you waiting on him? Why can't you keep track of time yourself?
Princess Dawdle: Okay. In my defense, no one told me Ladies Man wasn't going to school at the normal time. How was I supposed to know?
Me: Okay. I can accept that. We need to communicate better about what's happening.
Princess Dawdle: And I accept full responsibility for this morning.
Me (pleased with the swift, amicable conclusion): Well. There you go. All is well. Peace reigns again.
Princess Dawdle: Happy clappy Mondays, Mom!
I put up my fist to give her a fist bump, but she gave me a high five instead.
Princess Dawdle: Wow. That was like a turkey.
So we tried again and this time nailed it and Monday went on as planned. Happy clappy and all.
Have you seen these Facebook movies that people have been posting? They're kinda cool, like a montage of your life since you joined Facebook. Kevin was watching his the other day and all of his most popular posts were about me! Is it vain to say I loved that?! Either he only talks about me or all his Facebook friends enjoy the sap he shares about his wife. It was like him saying "I love you" without opening his mouth.
Sigh. I really like being married to that guy.
My kids are constantly sending snapchats to each other and have been urging Kevin and I to get on the bandwagon. I finally complied and find myself getting all kinds of pics from Drama Queen. She sends pictures of her food and a menagerie of classic Drama Queen poses. This week, however, I wasn't a fan of the pic she sent. Her roommate was a passenger in her car and she had her take a picture of the snowy road conditions and added the caption "We're gonna die!"
Now really, what mother in her right mind wants to think about that? Though I rarely snapchat back (read on for an explanation), I promptly fired off a picture of me looking horrified and said, "One should not frighten their mother!"
My problem was that I forgot how observant Drama Queen is. She totally recognized the background of the picture and figured out I was sitting on the toilet! A few minutes later she beeped in with "Are you popping?!!!!!" which was just as funny as me being on the toilet because she wrote the wrong word!
Yes, this is bathroom humor at its finest, people.
I probably get 5 snapchats a day from Drama Queen, but I rarely reply because it just seems weird to take so many selfies in varying poses. I mean, I'm not that versatile or dramatic. I'm a middle-aged woman with dark circles and bags under her eyes, not a young twenty-something with a mane of hair to die for (Yes, Drama Queen, I did just say that.). Yesterday she sent a very entertaining pic about the cold and I enjoyed it so much I wanted her to know. So I texted her.
Me: I sure do get a kick out of your snapchats. I don't reply cuz I don't wanna take pics of myself!
Drama Queen: I figured that's why you didn't. You're a little foolish sometimes, Mom :) I'll just send you super ugly ones and then I expect you to reply :P
Me: Foolish?!!!!
Drama Queen: You're worried you're gonna look stupid in pictures you're sending to your daughter that are literally 5 seconds long. It's a little foolish ;)
Me: or vain!
Drama Queen: Yeah I s'pose. You should see the ones Princess Dawdle and I send to each other. Yiiiikes . . .
I know they say they are gone in like 5 seconds, but where do they go? What big conspiracy theory will surface where some psychopath is intercepting these weird pics and resurrecting them at the most inopportune times?
But then again, what's the worst that could happen? The psychopath is grossed out by my picture? That would be a good thing, right?
A highlight of this week was a little snowstorm that blew in on Tuesday. That morning I went outside to start my van and brush the snow off and found myself so enamored with the environment. It was cloudy, a little dark even, and the snow wafted to the ground. The air felt moist and clean, and smelled nice, like a gentle rain in the Spring but without the noise. It was so quiet and refreshing. I just stood there and listened and felt the air . . . glorious. It put me in the best mood for the whole day.
People who don't like snow say it's only those who don't have to be in it that like it, but I was cleaning off cars. I was out and about driving on messy streets. I did my share of scooping the next day. I don't care what anyone says, there's something soft and lovely and perfectly wonderful about snow. It's a blanket of hush over a busy world that I welcome.
#6 . . . hmmmm . . . let's see. I had a productive day yesterday. Is that riveting content? I got all my tax information together for an appointment with our accountant next week, made a menu plan, grocery list and got the groceries. I put the finishing touches on a speech I'm giving today. I sorted a big pile of mail and the junk I sit next to my bread box I want to ignore. I worked on my Bible study lesson. I got this post done. I even managed to talk to a friend on the phone for over half an hour and checked in on Facebook every few hours.
Productivity. It's a beautiful thing. Too bad it only comes to me once a year or so.
We've got a full weekend planned. Today I'm headed to Gretna to talk to a women's group, then it's over to Central City to watch Ladies Man and Princess Dawdle in a show choir competition. Saturday we're helping at a speech meet in town. Sundays are Sundays. It's a work day for my husband. Enough said.
Sometimes I wonder what it will be like when our kids are grown and these activities stop. Will I have a lot of free weekends? Will I read more? Will I miss the commotion? Will I yearn for the days of traipsing over the countryside again? Will my house finally be clean? Will I say things like, "Remember the good old days when we never had a Saturday free?"
I guess you can't know til you get there. I try to take every stage of life and appreciate the good things in it. In the stage we're in now we never have to think about what we're going to do. There's always something! And it is fun to see the kids doing their thing. Makes a person introspective and reflective, you know?
Of course my husband would say I get introspective and reflective over meatloaf, so I better quit here. I hope you enjoy your weekend, whatever stage of life you find yourself in. For more Quick Takes, visit
Conversion Diary.
