Making weekend plans is just an invitation for disaster

Okay, so THAT didn't work out.

Last weekend, I shopped, but definitely didn't get enough sleep to last me through the entire week. Dillon had an ear infection a couple of weeks ago, and it turns out that he is allergic to being sick. Actually, he is allergic to his antibiotic, but it is a delayed reaction, so he took it for a week before I knew.

Needless to say, he hasn't slept and that means I haven't slept. Right now, a four-hour night of sleep sounds BLISSFUL.

So that is why I haven't been around. I have tried to post once or twice but I keep falling asleep right in the mid...

Living for the weekend

Here is what I am doing this weekend!

1) Shopping! My mama gave me some money for graduation (Yeah! I am a graduate! Again!) so I am going to get some jeans and shoes and maybe some cute jewelry.

2) Cleaning! My house is a WRECK. Daniel has been doing a remodeling project - new trim, paint, etc..., so nothing is where it is supposed to be. Hopefully we are nearing the end of this little venture so I can relax in my own home!

3) Napping! Of COURSE Dillon and I have to take a nap together. That is the sweetest thing to see his little head on a big man pillow, with every limb wrapped around his beloved Dohg. I might not sleep - maybe I will just watch him. Okay, who believes that? I am exhausted from this week!

4) Working! I have some files to read on some kiddos in my room. Better late than never!

5) Cooking! Maybe I will cook a couple of things to freeze so eating during the week will be easier until I get the hang of this Working Mom thing.

What are you doing this weekend?

(Was that too many exclamation marks? I felt a like I was overusing, but I didn't see any that I could take out. I also want to accurately portray my delirium from lack of sleep. So there!)

Guilted into posting

I have a lot of guilt.

Guilt cause I haven't cooked a decent meal for Daniel in a week.

Guilt cause I am leaving Dillon at a babysitter.

Guilt cause I didn't brush my teeth before I collapsed into bed last night.

Guilt cause I just told you that.

My guilt is usually manageable, but sometimes people in my life call me out on my guilt, and that makes it worse.

That happened today. I took Dillon to the doctor right after school. He has felt bad for a few days, and it turns out he has another ear infection. (Yes, I feel guilty.)

While I was at the doctor's office, I saw a friend of mine. She asked about my new job, and then said, "The blog has been pitiful lately. It really needs to be updated."

Stunned, I fell out of my chair.

Not really. Stunned, I stared at her open-mouthed.

Not really. Who doesn't have the wherewithal to close their mouth?

Not stunned at all, I said, "Yeah, I know. I feel pretty bad about that."

I don't really feel that bad. I am sure you guys understand, and if you don't, there are tons of other blogs to read. Blogs whose owners don't have jobs, and can post daily. Sometimes even more than once a day. So, I don't have THAT much guilt over not posting.

Then she said, "The 'Shrek hands' post was harsh."

Ay - there lies the rub.

Keeping you posted

What I have been doing:

Teacher inservice this week. Long, inspired speeches given by people who are paid to sound inspiring, but who sound remarkably cliche.

Something funny that happened:

I sat by a woman who had Shrek fingers. Her body was normal. Her face was normal. Her arms were normal. When I looked at her hands though, instead of fingers, I discovered round sausages pegged with tiny flat fingernails at the end. Her toes were the same. Fat and stubby, with tiny nails, lost in the puffy skin of her digits. Yum.

Something ironic that happened:

We listened to a five-hour lecture on poverty. In the middle of this lecture, someone distributed our lunch. It was a small, mashed sandwich remnant, soaked with pickle juice and laying on a limp piece of warm lettuce. Were they trying to make us FEEL the poverty? What about a soup kitchen? Maybe next time I will suggest that.

Something small-townish that happened:

The P.E. coach at my new school was my P.E. coach in elementary school. I was in the second grade. Little, with long stringy hair and glasses. Knobby knees. Aqua cotton shorts and a floral button up shirt. I never did anything wrong, and I just adored him. One day, he told me that my zipper was down, and I died a thousand times in mortification. I told him about it today, and we laughed. Funny that it made such an impression on me that I remembered it twenty-two years later.

Something heartwrenching that happened:

I dropped Dillon off at the babysitter yesterday and today. Both days, he has been sad. Both days, he has been thrilled to see me when I come get him. If the boy wasn't already crawling, I am sure he would have learned this week. because the second he sees me, he takes off toward me, choking back his excitement. He curls up in my arms and puts his head on my shoulder. He kicks his legs to scoot in closer to me, cause we just can't get close enough. One chubby hand is on my neck. The other arm wraps around my shoulder. Just like I have done to him a thousand times before, he lifts his hand and pats me on the back.

"It's okay, Momma! I missed you so much but now we are together again and we can play!"

That boy. He just gets me.

My apologies, and the excrement of birds

Sorry the blog has been a bit of a "blahg" lately. I don't have time to think, much less type those thoughts out. Things will get calmer in life, or I will amazingly require less sleep. Either way, sometime I should be able to post more.

Now, on to my story.

This morning, when I let Tux outside, a bird flew into the house through our screen door. (The screen is severely lacking in this particular door.)

The bird flew into the kitchen and rammed into a cabinet. Then she hopped into the living room and sat on Dillon's play table. She went under the couch and beat her wings furiously for a few minutes. Then she went under the entertainment center where she stayed for a long time. Armed with a colander and a piece of cardboard, I finally got her to fly out the open door.

My issue is not with the presence of this bird in my house. It is with the sheer volume of poop she produced in those few minutes. It rivaled the bowel movement of a small dog. Seriously!

I remember having a bird when I was younger. He pooped a lot, but I also didn't clean his cage often enough. For whatever reason, there was always a lot of mess in the bottom of his living environment.

But today, this bird put a lot of mess in MY living environment! I swept. I vacuumed. I wiped the floor to make sure there was no residual poop.

That is a lot of work to clean up after one tiny bird. I know she was scared - the colander and cardboard didn't look anything like the branch of a tree. So here is my theory to account for the amount of poop:

When frightened, the internal organs of a bird turn to excrement so that the bird can make himself lighter in order to properly respond to "fight or flight." I think it sounds reasonable. Anyone want to help me test this hypothesis?