Sleep has been a challenge this week. Nolan’s been out of his routine since 1972 March, and his tummy hasn’t been kind to him in recent weeks. Mixed with hormones, puberty and everything else going on inside that 14-year-old boy body, and Nolan just isn’t sleeping well… Or at least, he’s not letting Kirk and I sleep well.
So instead of hitting a subject hard with thought provoking prose, I thought it might be a good chance to stop and laugh a little bit at the random and absurd things that have passed through our lives this week.
Around here, there are always plenty.
For example, there’s this text that Kirk sent me last week while I was at work…
I never cease to be amazed at how much childproofing I need to do with this teenager.
Most of the texts from this week were related to poop. I talk about poop at work so much that my coworkers probably think I have some sort of unhealthy obsession. Really I have to deal with it so much that it’s probably more like I have an unhealthy level of comfort with it.
In fact, there was an incident several months ago where I work that involved a customer/ client someone having a #2 accident where no one would ever have expected. I told the manager of that location (which happens to be just downstairs from my department), “You should’ve called me. It’s just a code brown.” He was like, “uh… no it was gross…” and I was like, “Well yeah, they all are, but it’s just poop…” I’m pretty sure he gave me the side eye over the phone for that one.
Oh, and the elevator in our building broke again. So while I’m rewarded with a beautiful view once I’m finally upstairs (5th floor if anyone other than my watch is counting my steps), I’m definitely breathing hard by the time I get there. Now when I leave the house in the morning I prioritize keeping my trip light. “Do I need two diet cokes today? I mean, I don’t want to have to go to the basement to buy another from the machine, but do I really want to carry both of them up the stairs?” After a few weeks (hundred-year-old elevators take time to repair…) I’ll be more used to it, but for now I’ll keep my inhaler close on my climb up.
I can't deny the view is amazing...
This weekend was chock full of typical Nolan moments, though. He’s learning to be independent (which I appreciate wholeheartedly), but at the same time I continue to question my abilities to childproof against a teenager. Does a fridge lock even work if you’re smarter than the person who installs it? Asking for me-- no shame.
Sunday evening, though, Nolan let himself out into the back yard to hang out on the swing set. And I clearly need a thorough review of how to keep my kid safe in and around my own home. He knows how to go out the back porch door, and I haven’t come up with a way to slow him down. In fact, that door is why we bought our alarm system last year on Prime Day. The hook and eye on that door used to slow him down at least, but now it’s nothing. So we stay vigilant, listen for the familiar “blip blip” that our Ring system makes every time a door to our home is opened or closed, and keep googling in search of an option that is too smart for Nolan but not too smart for Kirk and I (which again doesn’t exist because Nolan will outsmart us. Every. Single. time.)
After a few trips in and out (most with me yelling, “WAIT! Slow down! Wait for me!!!” as I ran through the house after him), we landed back outside again. Nolan tends to oscillate between the backyard and the driveway (which runs along the side of our house). Every time he changes spots, I get up to move and follow him, at which point he decides it’s time to move on again--it’s kind of a game we play that neither of us seems to actually enjoy.
But after following him back to the driveway at one point, he grabbed my hand and started walking toward the road.
Me: Buddy, wait-- that’s the road… We can’t just go out into the road…
Nolan: (pulls harder)
Me: Oh! You want to go for a walk?
Nolan: (whines a little and keeps pulling)
Me: Okay-- but can we go get some shoes first?
Nolan: (with zero cares to give about shoes, keeps pulling)
Me: All right then…
And that’s when I frantically texted Kirk to ask him to bring us some shoes. Before he could, though, he needed to finish the sentence he was in the middle of working through. After that, he fell prey to a carefully-crafted booby trap left by a certain teenager involving a very full glass of water in a very inconvenient spot.
Sometimes my phone corrects swear words into cuter things... It's kind of adorable.
Much to Kirk’s credit, we were only about 2 blocks away when he caught up. Which is good, because Nolan was ready to cross the street that had been resurfaced only two days before. I don’t know if you’ve ever walked barefoot over loose gravel, but it’s less fun than a blistering sunburn. The tiny pointy stuff that they use here is pure evil-- nothing like the nice pea gravel they used to use when I was a kid... All I could think the whole time was, “Don’t get a foot wound… it’ll take forever to heal.”
But because we failed to communicate, Kirk only had Nolan’s shoes. So now Nolan was moving much faster than me. He did wait for me when I asked him to let me catch up (repeatedly), and eventually we made it home without a single new wound.
Other than the gravel? It was a beautiful impromptu walk that we probably wouldn’t have taken if I hadn’t given Nolan a “why not?”
But now, I think Nolan is finally asleep… So that means it's my turn to finally go to sleep. By the time this posts in the morning, I will have had a full night’s sleep (HAHAHAHAHAHA!), and we’ll pretend none of us was ever sleep deprived. Why? Because sometimes I use denial as an unhealthy coping mechanism.
Other times? I use cats. Here's a shot of Walter's belly in case you need it. He wanted me to tell you you're welcome.
