Space Man

Big, fat snowflakes on May the 2nd?

Why not?  We are from the hearty north.

Bring it.

I might have to build a fire.  This is tragic because:

A)  I don't want to build no fire.

B)  I am not sure if we have kindling.

C)  I am not strong enough to split my own kindling.  Trust me.  I've tried.

D)  When I don't have kindling, I have to go and forage in the woods and find sticks and twigs.

E)  I am not in the mood to forage.  I have a sore throat.

F)  I don't want to build no fire.

But, alas.  I am freezing.  It's a quandary.  I will state this:  I am a better fire-starter than The Mister, of this you can be certain.  But he is the kindling splitter, so it all evens out.

And none of that has to do with anything.  So, you're welcome for that weather update.

Yesterday was going to town day.  And a wretched day it was.  Handsome Dude normally goes to preschool on Tuesdays.  He came home from preschool on Monday with a note saying the next day (Tuesday, May 1st), was "Muffins with Moms and Dads."

Hello, short notice?

Well, we had some appointments in the big city that is in a completely different locale from the rural town in which he is schooled and I could not cancel them.  The thought of my boy being at school and watching all the other children's parents feasting on muffins with their young while had was sitting all alone was more than I could bear.  So I did what any decent, responsible mother would do.

I kept him with me.

And wouldn't you know it, but that boy gave me T-R-O-U-B-L-E the entire day?  It all started when the boys were "playing" downstairs.  They came up with HD's glasses in two separate pieces, yet no one seemed to have any clue as to how the glasses came to be in this state.

My boys.

Poster Boys for Honesty.

That is an extremely old picture.  And I care not.  If I am too lazy to build a fire, you can be assured that I am too lazy to go and take a picture of my boys right now.

So.  My boy could not wear glasses.  Which is a crying shame because without them, his eyes are crossed.  We had several things to do in the big city, and the visit to the Optical Shop would have to wait.

This was unfortunate on so many levels.  Turns out when my boy can't see, he turns into Mr. Naughty-Pants.  It was a battle with him all day and I could go on and on with several examples of just how he was pushing my buttons, but in the interest of keeping this post somewhat short, let's just say if I told him to do something, he would do the complete opposite.

Our final stop before getting his glasses fixed was Walmart.  I know you are going to think that I am super cruel for not going to get glasses fixed before Walmart, but Walmart is in a different town than the Optical Shop and the girls' had piano lessons, so I go to Walmart while they are at lessons.  Clear as mud?

Good.

Handsome Dude had already pushed all of my buttons and then some.  When we were in line to pay, he wanted to put the items from the cart onto the line.  I told him to wait.  He tried to anyways.  I told him no.  He tried again.  I told him no.

Yet, he did it anyways.  And I didn't catch it this time, but he managed to dump the entire bag of apples all over the floor.

The floor of the Walmarts.

I started off with six apples.  I only found four.

He also managed to put a hole into the bag, so I had no bag to put the apples in. So there they sat, all exposed-like on the bottom of the, what we can presume to be, germ-infested cart.

Yes.  The cart.  From the Walmarts.

I had to wait until I got up to the cashier to ask for a new bag.  He gives me one and I am thoroughly grossed out by these apples at this point in time.  No offense to Mr. Cashier, but he looks a bit shady to me, so I am even more grossed out when he reaches in to the bag, takes out an apple with his bare hands, and scans it.

So basically, I bought apples just to throw them away.  Because you just can't recover from that folks.  You just can't.

So, I was in a mood by the time I got to the Optical Place.  And if anyone has the right to be annoyed at me, it is these people.  These people, whom we visit on a weekly basis, go to great lengths to ensure my son can see.  I was so emotionally fragile at this point in the day, (you know, because I had to wonder why on earth God decided I could be a parent?) and I was certain that if I got the criticism I deserved for the state of the glasses, my eyes would become a well-spring of tears.

But, no.  They were kind, as usual.  They put all sorts of temporary stuff on the glasses to hold them together so the boy could see and *hopefully* stop causing me such distress in life.

Apples!  Ahh!

While we were there, the man fixing the glasses-Bob, my bff, informed me that I should get Rec Specs for HD.  Because, guess what?  We have another appointment on Friday at the doctor and the doctor said his prescription will most likely change.

New Prescription=New Glasses

New Glasses=Lots of Money

The Rec Specs are not handsome.  My son will, most assuredly, look like a space man.  But apparently, they do not break.  Ever.

So, I am trying to get over myself and come to grips that my boy probably needs to look like a space man until he goes to college and can buy his own eye wear.

So, dear readers.

1)  Tell me its ok for the boy to look like a Star Wars character.

2)  Fun Fact:  I have never seen Star Wars.  Have you?

3)  Can you split kindling?

4)  Is it snowing in your neck of the woods?

5)  Would you eat them apples?

Happy Wednesday.