Tuesday: Day Off

So yesterday, I did not write about it, but I swam.  I did not photograph the workout, but I swam pretty hard and did some butterfly, and it is making me hungry just even thinking about it.  At home, I attempted to take a nap, because I am sleeping so horribly at night that I am like an ugly bear during the day; all puffy eyes and grumpiness.  In the afternoon, I took Ivan to swim and then worked with him in the afternoon on his Zum coaster bike.  He really learned to coast, and he was very proud of himself.

Now last night, I again had a terrible night's sleep, which resulted in oversleeping, not even considering going to track practice, gulping coffee like an alcoholic after whiskey, getting Ivan to nursery school late, and therefor late to Bible study.  It was not my best morning.  There are clothes that have been sitting in the laundry basket so deep and so long that I am beginning to consider my wardrobe without them.  

I feel like when I dropped Ivan off at nursery school, the children were sitting around eating jumbo marshmallows, and I am not sure why.  I feel like I look back at those teeny kids sitting around on the floor stuffing huge marshmallows into their mouths in slow motion and it seems surreal.  Were they doing that or is that some strange dream proffered up in my exhaustion haze?  OR, did I miss that it was "s'mores day" or "empty calories day" or "foods made entirely of refined sugar day" or "come home with a cavity day" on the school calendar.  I just don't know and I didn't even remember to ask when I picked Ivan up.

Also this morning, before we left for nursery school and 35% of the reason that we were late is that my toilet seat slammed down and BROKE IN HALF.  I mean, yes, it is probably 40 years old and should have been out of commission long ago, but Ivan and I were both pretty shocked.  Anyway, of course they do not even make a toilet seat to fit our 40 year old whatever model.  So until we decide how to handle this aforementioned situation that I can only describe as redneck, we are forced to endure the even greater redneck state of having the toilet seat duck taped together;  DUCK TAPED TOGETHER so that my nether-regions do not get pinched in any way.  

Are things like this how you get started down The Glass Castle road?  Will Ivan one day write in his memoirs that his parents toilet seat was duck-taped together, and he is irrevocably scarred as a result.  Will it prevent him from achieving greatness?  Is our only possible course of action to obtain a junk yard dog to chain in the front yard, and a couch and a lawnmower with the wheels off to make the statement about what we really are?