Well, should I get a job that requires me to move, it will be a miracle if I get this house clean. How the hell did I accumulate so much CRAP?!?! I've got so much junk, I don't even know where to start. And with J trailing behind me like a little wrecking ball, if I DO get it clean, how will I KEEP it clean?! AAARGH! Needless to say, I didn't get much done this weekend. I wish I had the vacation time to take a week off work and just clean like mad.
Last night was fabulous. J must have been worn right out, because he told me to go away so he could read about 8:30 or so. I did, and realized in about 10 minutes that I hadn't heard anything from him. So I went to check, and he'd fallen asleep with his book in his hand. This was about 8:40 or so, which is uncommonly early for him. And the kicker? I didn't hear a peep from him this morning until nearly 8:00. I'd gotten smart and gone to bed shortly after 11:00, so we both got a good night's rest for once.
Today J and I went to church. Nursery care is only for kids up to age 3, so J went to the sanctuary with me. This was his first time in "big church". He did OK with the prelude - asked me what that noise was, and I told him it was the piano and the organ. And that was OK. Then came the processional, with everyone singing and with instrumental accompaniment, and he lost it. Poor baby, he was sobbing and saying it scared him. The music was too loud for him. (This from the kid who thinks he'd like to go to a monster truck show.) He really was freaked out, so I told him we could leave, that I knew it was his first time and it was a bit different than what he was used to, but we'd try again. He said he'd go back, but he told me tonight that he didn't like going to God's house. Oy, I've scarred my child for life, trying to bring him to church.
On the way home we ran by Whataburger - he wanted a cheeseburger and fries. He snarfed down the whole huge thing of fries and left his burger virtually untouched. After he'd left it for a good 45 minutes or so, I asked him if I could eat it. He said yes. I asked him if he was sure he didn't want it, and he said he didn't want it, that I could eat it. OK, fine. I ate the meat and left the bread. A good five hours later, he came wandering into the living room asking where his hamburger was. I told him I'd eaten the meat, and he just started to sob like his heart was breaking. "Mama, I WANTED the meat! I LIKED my meat!" LOLOL It was sad, but it really was comical, too. Poor baby. I told him that if he wanted to keep something for later, he needed to tell me that and not say it was OK for me to eat it. Then we went back to Whataburger for our second cheeseburger of the day, and he ate the whole thing. He told me as we were getting ready for bed tonight, "Mama, you ate my meat. I wanted it." Yes, dear, I know, I'll never make that mistake again.
Tomorrow is work. It makes me tired just thinking about it. If I'm smart, I'll go on to bed again. Maybe then I won't sleep through my alarm.