Long Time No Read

I haven't been sleeping well. No news there. Though I'm convinced it's hormonal because the sleeplessness seems to come in cycles. (Note to self: start logging sleepless nights. What part of the month it is. What I had for dinner. What thoughts are running through my head like a hamster on a wheel. What jeans I wore. High heels or flats? If I'm soaked with sweat. (Pretty pic, I know.))

That last one is true. Some mornings I wake up completely saturated in sweat. Yummy. Like I just worked out for hours. It's weird. It's gross. It means a lot more laundry. And that alone is enough to motivate me to search for answers. I'm 30, for Pete sakes!

So one day following a sleepless night I took advantage of Zoey's naptime and decided to also lay down myself. (Or is it lie down? Whatever. You know what I mean. I approached my bed, crawled under the covers and assumed a horizontal position.) While I was horizontal (aka supine. Yeah baby, I'm smart!)...while I was horizontal I had a blog post idea. "Oh yes, I'll write about that. Good idea, Macey...oh, *pop*, *pop*, *pop* (those are ideas popping into my head) and those will be my supporting pieces...yes, yes, good ideas Macey....NO! STOP!"

It was just as the creative juices were really flowing that I decided I would NOT think about those things during my much needed nap time. I knew I was limited for time with Zoey sleeping, so I had to seize the opportunity...for sleep, that is. So I tucked myself in, pushed the pause button on my blog post idea, and went to sleep.

And then I woke up.

Empty.

When I woke up, I realized I didn't push pause, I pushed the stop and erase now button. And when it verified if I really wanted to delete my ideas, I pressed yes. It was GONE! My idea. My supporting pieces. All gone! Where they went, I haven't a clue. I suppose they will find their way into my cerebrum again someday. Probably when I least expect it. Probably, if I'm really lucky, at a time when I can't take notes!

So I've been waiting. Thinking. Meditating. Sleeping. Wondering. I even went to a hypnotist to find where my ideas where hiding, but only found out that I forgot to turn the washing machine on and turn the coffee pot off. Doh! Alas, not even a smidgen of a hint of an inkling of a twinkling of an idea of what I was going to write about. So with the days quickly passing, I decided I'd write about the fact that once upon a time I had an idea. Wow. Interesting! So there it is folks. Really, it's a post about nothing at all! Does that mean my brain is void of all rational thoughts? Probably. But if we're being completely honest here, we've already known that for a while now.

So to add a little sustenance to the nothingness, I will offer some stories straight from my crazy offspring. (Offsprings? Geesh, maybe I should read more. Note to self: read more. Note on top of original note to self: nursery rhymes don't count.)

Today Gavin informed me that the tv in the playroom "wasn't working right". These types of comments and requests are usually made to dad. Everyone in this house knows that electronics and I don't mesh. We're like polenta and goat cheese. Or shorts and Uggs. For some reason the stars don't align with our complicated relationship. We have an ugly past. But being that Sean is the working dad that he is and I was just attempting to write about the nothingness inside my void brain, I was the only one at home with "authority to plug things in". Even though I'm sure those privileges will be revoked soon enough.

So Blog Mom put down the computer, grabbed her Electronics Fixer hat and went to the playroom to investigate. Just as the boy said...the TV wasn't working right. At least it wasn't showing the movie that was obviously running in the dvd player. Just a blue screen. I used my super sleuth skills to check that the tv was on VIDEO...check. I checked all plug ins...check, check, check. A couple were loose, so I pushed em in farther and checked the screen. Still blue. I checked everything I knew how to check and even went for the fix all "reboot" that seems to help out the laptop 9 times outta 10. I turned it all off, then back on. No luck. Screen's still blue.

When I tell Sean about the tv here in a bit I fully expect my Electronics Fixer hat to be taken back and my plugging in authorities to be revoked. It could be a sad night.

But the funny part of this story is not how I played directly into my role as the non-fixer. It's about the scene that was taking place behind me as I sleuthed my way to failure. (Yes, I made sleuth a verb.) I shall call this story Oh Be Careful Little Mouths What You Say and here it is:
Gavin and Zoey were playing house, or something of the sorts. Zoey grabbed her purse and her keys. Gavin gave Zoey a list of items they needed from the store. On her way out, she grabbed her phone (or course) and Gavin yelled, "don't forget we need dog food". Zoey left the room, came back about 5 seconds later and sat down in a chair. After a second and verifying to Gavin that she remembered the dog food, she looked around the room and said, "You kids need to clean this crap up!".

I about fell out. I think I did.

I turned around unable to hide the smile on my face and told her she did not get to talk like that. And I realized, it just hit me, she obviously got that from her daddy. Ha!!

The second story of the day comes to you via a paper Gavin wrote at school. I will call this story Everything is Gravy When You're High and it goes a little something like this:
Gavin usually gets done with his in-class assignments quickly, so to keep himself occupied he draws on the back of his papers or practices writing sentences. He said his teacher is usually busy helping other students with the assignment so she doesn't help with his extracurricular spelling. She tells him to "just sound it out".

While going through his backpack today I found his normal school work. I flipped over all the papers to see what creativity was oozing through him today. Most days I'm greeted with an "I love you Mom" or a beautiful mosaic of colors. But today, I found this. A piece of paper with this written on the back:
"Avery is butfl. She is hiye. What the?"

No. I'm not even kidding. I kinda wish I was.

This is what I am hoping it translates to:
"Avery is beautiful. She is...(I'm actually lost here. I was hoping for 'nice', but it's just not fitting.) She is high. What is the meaning of love?"
It's a stretch. It's a very, very large stretch. But it's better in my make believe world.

This is what I actually saw the first time I read it:
"Avery is buttful. She is high. What the...?"

Huh? Avery is buttful? Does that mean she's a little round in the backside? That she's got junk in her trunk? At the age of 6? *Sigh* I don't know where Avery came from, but I keep imaging a 6 year old Jennifer Lopez addicted to crack. And Gavin questioning it with a "what the ....". I guess I can't shield my first born from the real life forever. Wait. Who am I kidding...he watches Big Brother.

Totally kidding. He doesn't watch Big Brother. He said Big Brother was trash tv compared to the Real Housewives of Orange County. Now that's real life, folks. Fabricated, silicone-filled, extension-attached, fake-friending, botox-ridden real life! I'm kind of addicted to the trash. Don't tell anyone.

We'll be praying for and with our children tonight. They obviously need it. I'm concerned. I also might change my name to protect the guilty.

Finally, if I ever remember what I was going to write about, you might hear from me sooner than later. If not...it might be another post about nothing.

Until next time!