I’ve been doing well with proper email etiquette. Sometimes this means typing it all out, then realizing I have no capital letters and apostrophes, and back-tracking to correct it all. It actually takes longer that way than just doing it right in the first place. I still don’t write a proper one to my husband, though. Cause really, my time is valuable, people. My time is MONEY!
My “dresser nicer for work” has been put on hold a little due to my poison ivy covered legs. I am no Uma Thurman, that’s for sure. Much more red than green. So guess what I wore to work yesterday? Yup, my comfy-cargo-type-elastic-waistband-brown pants. I can’t stand to have anything touching my legs and these are pretty baggy. I thought about wearing them today too, but thought people might start to wonder if I owned anything else, or ever washed them, or ever even bathed.
I can’t do too much with my raw legs, so while Riley was playing yesterday, I sat on the couch with my Nook to try and finish The Help for my book club meeting. He was happy for a few minutes, then told me “No do this, Mama,” and closed my Nook case so I couldn’t read. Then I realized that this is one of those times I need to play with him and do nothing else.
So I got out his Lincoln Logs. I am becoming quite the architect. It comes with instructions for one house/barn and then just picture each for two others. I am proud to say I have built all three. And I am becoming quite fond of the little log cabin design. The whole time I am building, he is standing by with a truck to mow it down as soon as I put the last board into place. He takes great pleasure in destroying the things we build him.
He did this a few days ago, too. We went outside to play and silly me thought I could read a book while he played on the slide. “No do that, Mama.” He closed my Nook up, took it away and told me to go slide, head-first. Granted, my childbirthing hips are a little too wide to go down the slide but I manage. He finds it hilarious. And that’s what it’s all about, right? I can always read when I retire… At age 78, because there is no Social Security left and my mutual funds have tanked. But whatever. My kid loves me and loves to play with me, so that’s all that matter. Tonight, maybe we can build a Lincoln Log garage for his cars. And then knock it down with a tractor and scatter the tiny little pieces all over the living room.