Well, I was going to post last night but our power went off around 6:30 p.m. and didn't come back on until 12:50 a.m. so it was like Little House on the Prairie over here only without bonnets and a fiddle.  If nothing else, though, it reinforced my belief that God, in all His wisdom, saw that I would not be fashioned for the days of yore preceding climate control and He perfectly placed me in this cooler, more thermostatic moment in history.  For that, I am grateful.

Anyway, we called the power company and the automated message said that they hoped to have the problem resolved by midnight or so and, since I knew practically every light in the house would come on and every TV would be blaring, I was just going to stay up so I wouldn't be jarred from my slumber.  But, there aren't many ways to entertain yourself when the power is out for 6 hours.  Ok, well, except eat Cheetos. You can eat Cheetos without power. And, unfortunately, with nothing else to do, you can lose track of how many Cheetos you're eating in the dark.  And, well, you can also read the Bible with your husband's headlamp strapped around your forehead like a coal miner but, really, aside from Cheetos and reading there's not much else that doesn't require electricity.  So, besides the Bible part, not much was accomplished here last night except a renewed appreciation for the fine work of Benjamin Franklin with that kite of his. 

Let me stop here and just say that this post is going to be a rambler, I can tell you that right now.  This next portion of today's muffin top report is purely for your entertainment and my self-deprecation.    

So, I was talking on my cellphone, yesterday, while walking into our neighborhood Dollar General for a few items.  I usually don't talk on my cell phone in stores because having to listen to someone else's phone conversation while I'm shopping is just one of my pet peeves.  However, it was my friend, Michelle, who lives out of town and so I made an exception but I made every attempt to talk softly so to not bother the other dollar store patrons.  I talked and walked while picking up the few things I needed but Michelle said the farther I got into the store, the more I was cutting out on her so I told her to hang on while I went back up to the front so we could finish our conversation. 

The store was pretty quiet.  Not many customers.  I looked around and decided that since I had to stay near the front for good reception, I'd make myself at home there by taking a seat on the medium-sized stack of plastic chairs displayed by the front window.  I hopped up on the top chair and found them to be quite comfortable.  Oh, yes.  This was going to be a good place to finish up my phone call in the relatively quiet store. 

Everything was going good as I was enjoying sitting a spell until I was getting off the phone and, all of a sudden, the stack of chairs started falling forward.  It happened so fast.  The chairs threw me out onto the floor......not unlike the whale which spat Jonah out onto dry land....which, by the way, had to have been softer for Jonah than the tile floor was for me at the Dollar General.  And you know how long it takes to fall.  Well, I fell and fell and fell and fell some more.  And landed hard on my rear end right there between the Gatorade and the Frito-Lay display.  I quickly hopped up to survey how large my audience was and bow if necessary.......and to assess the damage done to my pride.  My left buttock throbbing and my self-respect hemorrhaging right there in front of the Cool Ranch Doritos.  I'm not sure but I think the only person who saw me was the Coca-Cola man restocking the shelves near the back of the store and I'm almost sure he enjoyed the show.  I really stuck the landing.   

So, today, I've been taking ibuprofen because I'm so sore.  I guess I strained some of my muscles....like the ones you only use when, say, you fall out of a stack of chairs at the Dollar General.  I'm sure the security footage has been sent out by mass email for the whole cooperation's entertainment by now.  And, so, there's that.    

And we haven't talked about my Carson starting his senior year of high school, a couple of weeks ago.  I posted his picture on social medial like a bajillion other mothers have done over the last few weeks with a contemplative caption about where time goes.  All parents seem to start wondering about time's whereabouts when their kids get almost grown.  Yeah, and it's all fun and games in motherhood land until time comes calling for your youngest. 

There are all these different phases of child rearing and, while time does fly by in general, not all phases seem to zoom past very quickly.

You bring home the little bundle of joy, who was just a slumbering angel in the hospital, but you get home and your pain meds work their way out of his system and he starts this demonic screaming.  You'd already been bragging on what a good baby he was to everybody who came to the hospital and you get him home and now his head is doing 360's and you're not sure but it looks like his eyes are red and glowing.  "Where has the time gone?" is not something you ever ask in this phase.  No, it's more like "Is it just 9:30 in the morning!?"  I guess you do that when you haven't slept in 8 weeks and are exposed to incessant, shrill noise.  You find yourself begging time to pick up the pace just a bit to get you back to some semblance of a sleep pattern.

Then, comes the time of toddlerhood.  Oh, they're cute enough but they never stop.  From morning to night....go, go, go.  They start giving up the naps and so there's no intermission to be had there.  They get up before the sun rises and have those darn toddler beds with none of those beautiful, precious bars for restraint.  And then there's the whole trying period when they wear that training underwear and your couch smells like a latrine.  You're so tired from just trying to stand between them and death all day.  You know, like keeping them from getting caught in the blinds cord or sticking a fork in a socket or drinking the drain cleaner or throwing themselves off a balcony.  Your protective watch is required 24/7 and you certainly aren't asking where the time has gone here.  No, to your weary bones, it feels like the days move like molasses. 

The toddler years give way to the kid years.  Now, you can relax a little here.  Everybody has pretty much learned the rules concerning the appropriate and inappropriate places to urinate and their more developed depth perception puts them at a much lower risk for plummeting to their death while you lie on the couch watching HGTV.  But, with all those wonderful changes come homework and birthday parties and class cupcakes and ball practice.  Childhood's a busy time for moms as you begin to form that special relationship with your car and start to consider it your second home.  The box tops and immunization records and trying to get those darn straws in the drink pouches.  It feels like you have a million years left before they're grown while you run around and around and around in circles.   

Then, the teen years come and they can drive themselves and would prefer you not fuss over them in public.  They're gone with friends and need you less and less.  All of a sudden, you start trying to find the brake.  You've had your gas on the accelerator all these years and now....woah.  Maybe from where you are now, you can see the finish line.  But, maybe this crazy, wonderful, hectic race isn't one you're ready to finish just yet.  I mean, it's all you've known for so long.  How would you get used to it being any other way?   

Carson did most of those things.  He screamed at the top of his lungs for the first five months of his little life.  And, like boys in general, he took forever to potty train.  We called poison control a time or two after his sampling of a houseplant and then some mushrooms in the yard.  We've been in the ER a half dozen times and worked on homework until we both cried. 

And I wouldn't trade one second of it. 

I just can't believe we're here already. 

I thought I had more time.

But time has a way of fooling you.    

Last week, we got new shirts in at the stores that say "Mommin' is hard".

And it is. 

Really, it just is. 

And we thought most of our tears would happen on the front end of the Mommin'. 

But, sometimes, this back end "ain't" no picnic either.
 



I hope y'all have a great weekend! 
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