Bloggable Material

It has been 10 months since I last posted here. That's a long time! I could have grown a whole human baby in that time (I didn't), or finished a year of schooling (nope), or joined crossfit and turned into someone who loves working out (ha ha ha, yeah...no). Every time I start to think about my little corner of the internet here and how I should probably dust off the keyboard, I quickly talk myself out of it and decide that I am too tired, or should be filling my time with dishes and laundry and soaking in my babies because we all know that babies just don't keep. Sometimes, like this week, I tempt fate by uttering something about how nothing really 'bloggable' has happened in my life. And then life knocks me on my a  gives me new material.

Today, I ran into a friend and we exchanged a few quick pleasantries. I apologized for my brevity, as I had no less than 4 metaphorical fires burning across my life that needed my immediate attention, and as I excused myself to leave, she sweetly commented on my hair and how cute it looked. I turned my head around, took a step in her direction, and LAUGHED IN HER FACE. You see, friends, I knew some things that she didn't. Like the fact that the hair she just complimented hadn't been washed in *at least* four days. Or that there were no less than 39 bobby pins shoved into that hornet's nest atop my head just trying to hold it all together. And she had no way of knowing that tonight when I finally prioritized washing my hair, that I could smell the sweat running out of my scalp and down my face before the shampoo ever touched my head. Sidebar: Hi, my name is Heidi, and I'm disgusting sometimes. She didn't know any of that. She just saw me, in front of her, maybe in need of a compliment, and she led with the lens that she sees me through - one in which I have my crap waaaay more together than I really do. 

Here are some other things that she likely didn't know about my week -

Ryan has been planning a trip out of town for the last few weeks. The night before he was scheduled to leave, he had an untimely run in with a bout of the stomach flu. Travel plans had to be postponed, but I still took on the single parent duties so that he could rest and rehydrate. And rest, he did. In fact, my Goldilocks husband rested everywhere he went that day. In our bed, in the guest bed, on the couch, in the chair, and then the other end of the couch. While his body was recuperating, his mouth was BREATHING ON EVERY SLEEPING SURFACE IN THIS HOUSE. All of them. Every single germ-free oasis that I could rest my weary head on was contaminated. That left me with one pillow, a single blanket, and a can of Lysol to work with. 

No stranger to a little sickness in the house, I compartmentalized all of the things that would need laundered, and then quickly got distracted with remembering that it was trash day and we had 2 bags and a recycle bin that needed taken to the curb. Being the strong, independent woman that I am, I slipped on my flats and headed out the door. I would return shortly; barefoot, limping, and bloody, as I had managed to step on a twig that went through my shoe and INTO MY FOOT. 

That left me crippled, bedless, a single parent, and dodging the stomach flu. Perfect. 

I managed to (literally) hobble through the day and the first PTA meeting of the year, get the kids home right at bedtime, and collapsed onto the couch to open my laptop and start organizing the 7 page word document of notes that I had just taken at the aforementioned meeting. I am the PTA Secretary this year, and while I used to be a near prodigy in all things Microsoft Office, I have been out of the professional world for the last 4 years, and my rust is definitely shining through. It is super important to me that I do a good job for the school and my fellow PTA officers, so I refused to close my eyes until the notes were organized and edited and uploaded to the shared drive for review. 

Right as I was giving it a final look before sending it off with any glaring mistakes, I noticed that there was a single rogue bullet point on the screen where it should not be. Fast forward to me trying every single editing trick that I already knew, reformatting the entire document, and googling next-level editing tricks. I had tried everything. Literally everything that I, the help icon in Windows, and Google collectively knew to try. None of it worked, and now it was personal. Every ounce of my self-worth was hanging on by a thread, in the form of a bullet point that couldn't be deleted. 

It was at this point that I found myself silently crying on the couch while my foot soaked in epsom salt, and absolutely inhaling the last of the quick dinner I had made myself after realizing that I had only consumed 190 calories in the last 11 hours. A last bite, a deep breath, and a wipe of the screen later, I was ready to dive back into solving the problem. Wait. Where did it go? It's missing. The bullet point that I have waged a war against and spent the last 90 minutes trying to destroy is gone. WHERE DID IT GO?!? 

It went on my finger. Because it was a flake of black pepper that must have flown off of my fork and onto my laptop screen over an hour and a half ago. 

And I told the universe that I didn't have any bloggable events in my life! That's how you end up sleeping in a chair, clinging to a bottle of lysol, walking around with part of a tree in your foot, and nearing a complete mental breakdown over a single flake of pepper.

If you see a woman with her hair in a 4 day old bun, frantically trying to solve a million life problems at once, just give her a compliment, okay? And remind her to wipe off the screen before she smashes her brand new laptop into 300 pieces.

Hair in a bun and soaking in my babies, because babies don't keep