Get it? It’s a play on “healthy, wealthy, and wise,” because this past week we have all been early to bed and early to rise, thanks to school, but…you know what, that’s enough, I’m sure you get it, and I’m sure I just overkilled it. Sorry. I have a sense of humor people have defined as, “quirky,” which is just a polite way to say, “unfunny.”
So back to life, back to reality, Bug is now finishing his first week of second grade. This means several things for me (and Bean):
I. Getting up at 6:30 is way too early to start thinking about what to fix for breakfast. But since I’ve vowed to have a hot meal waiting for a bleary-eyed Bug this year, getting up at 6:30 is also necessary.
- A. The Montessori school up the road starts a whole 45 minutes later than the public schools. Is the extra 45 minutes of sleep worth the private school tuition? No, but ask me again after a few weeks of zombie-like awareness.
- B. My vow allows some leeway.
II. Bug is not a morning person. I am not a morning person. Hubs is not a morning person. The only one who wakes up happy is Bean, and she sleeps in her own urine, so her opinion about morning doesn’t count.
- A. Three non-morning people stumbling around the house getting ready for school/work/the day in general does not a happy home make.
- B. Is that stubborn cowlick really worth the temper tantrum? Some would say not, Hubs. (Psych, Bug is the one whimpering over his reflection, at least until he gets some food in his tummy. Then it’s all karate chops and sword fights from there.)
III. I can actually get to the gym. Haha, good one, just seeing if you were still paying attention.
- A. What I really meant was, I can finally watch the Netflix DVDs I’ve had since April, as well as the dozens of Conan episodes monopolizing our DVR. (Sorry, Hubs, but consider: do you really need to record that episode of Swamp People? Spoiler alert: they wrassle gators and talk funny. Says the Alabamian.)
- B. My skinny jeans might have a different opinion of the gym.
IV. I can write. Without Disney Channel, constant requests for a snack, Transformer duels, and/or (and) an ongoing game of Categories interrupting my flow. Opus, here I come!
- A. Oh, yeah, and Bean can actually get a full nap without all of the above noises.
- B. I tend to ignore Hubs when he asks when I want to go back to work, so if I can start getting paid for this writing gig, then my answer can be, “Never! Bahaha!”
- 1. Evil laugh mandatory.
- 2. I’ll also consider job openings for a professional laugher.
V. After an entire summer of all day, everyday togetherness, Bug and Bean have started to annoy the crap out of each other (see Exhibit A). Now that they spend a full seven hours apart, they can go back to missing each other by the time 3:00 rolls around.
- A. Don’t you hate it when Babyzilla comes along and wrecks the wicked cool K’nex roller coaster you spent three hours building?
- B. And don’t you hate it when you’re minding your own business, playing with blocks or eating crumbs off the floor, and your big brother picks you up and moves you just because he can?
- C. And don’t you hate it when one kid is squalling because she isn’t allowed to eat crumbs off the floor, and the other kid is tattling on his sister for wrecking his wicked cool K’nex roller coaster SEVENTEEN TIMES A DAY?
And that’s just the five-point outline I’ve prepared for today. I didn’t even mention how I can now tell you what day of the week it is (as opposed to, “Not Sunday” and “Not Trash Day”), or how 3/4 of the house are now required to change out of pajamas before 8AM.
Then again, I guess I could drop Bug off in my pajamas, but no one wants to see my puppy feet pants. That’s an intimacy I’m just not ready to afford the fifth graders manning the car rider lane.