Feed on

It didn’t help that my mind carried to bed every burden in the world and could solve none of it or that I bumped into my son in the hallway at two-forty a.m. on his way to our room.  Or that seven o clock came before it should have, and with it the same small boy from the middle of the night.

No…none of that helped.

Because before I could squeeze the non-sleep from my eyes, the day was off like a freight train.  One that apparently had no stops to make.

That it is twelve and a half hours later and I am sitting down–alone–is directly proportional…proportional?  Uh…that can’t be right…anyway…it’s directly something…to the moment my husband put his hand on the door knob and I released all mental, emotional and physical responsibility of my son.

Without regret.

Only now with my eyeballs ready to seal themselves shut and the rest of my body twittering like an old car with one final sputter after the engine’s off, I’d rather flop over and wait for someone to cover me with a blanket than attempt, well…anything. 

Here’s the brief account.

Somewhere between the moment I handed my son his honey lemon drink and the moment I turned around to do who-knows-what, my son splashed half his drink on the floor.  Which is nothing to shout about…when it’s water.  That I stuck to the floor 33 times in the same fifteen minutes and could only find the sticky spot by leaning sideways and watching for it to reflect in the light while I paced the kitchen seemed unmerciful.  But I had no idea.

My son would later fling sour cream off of his nachos and onto his sister’s forehead.  He would unwind the rest of our toilet paper and chuck it in the trash.  Then flush the cardboard piece that held all the toilet paper and with it, all our dental floss.  Only they wouldn’t flush and would need retrieval.  On our way to the store he would drag his cleaned coat along the unwashed van.  While I pushed the grocery cart on a wheel and a half, he tottered on the front end, whisked his arm over all he could reach and then dove off when he felt the whim.  When I reached for eggs, he reached for a couple of coupons dispensing on the milk door.  I was touched when he offered to help pay for everything with the penny he found in the parking lot.  Only he reneged and took to wrapping his penny in his coupon.

While I took a phone call in the car, he dismantled the glove compartment, shoved a bobby pin down the window and offered a tampon to the people in the parking spot beside us. 

I’d hardly inhaled at home when he ran by with a hammer and the van keys.  When I’d insisted he stop a moment and listen, he’d rebutted that he couldn’t hear me because he was busy.  Busy with that hammer, my car keys and a wet strip of toilet paper.

Only before I blew my final gasket, my son clung to my leg and said what he’d been demonstrating all day…”I just need some bu’ttention.” 

One hour and twenty-six minutes later, my husband got home…

And did what I could no longer do.  He gave that kid some bu-ttention. 

Hallelujah.  Amen.


8 Responses to “When It's Been a Day…Times Four Hundred”

  1. Perry Olson says:

    Take a deep breath I had to. Some days truly challenge us. I am happy that Troy came at the perfect time to lend a helping hand and give his son bu-ttention!

    Hopefully you can get some rest and feel energized to face the new day tomorrow.


  2. Sarah says:

    At this age it takes more bu-ttention that one person can give. You do you best. When you are all out of best you give some good. Good is gone right around the time “this is all I got kid” kicks in. Right at the very moment the door may open so they can suck it all out of the stranger behind the door. Hehehe

  3. Ruth Slagowski says:

    I love this entry!! I had Steve put the tv on hold so I could read this to him!! We really enjoy the adventures of the Munson Family. I don’t know when you find time to write this, especially when giving your family so much bu-ttention!!! Ha

  4. Linda H says:

    He is such a busy little guy. And poor Mom without enough sleep it’s just hard to keep up. Thankfully Troy was able to step in and handle things so you could get some rest. I hope today will be better for everyone.

  5. Pastor Brad says:

    This was painful/entertaining to read. Is that possible? Thanks for sharing your adventures with us.

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