It's 7 Quick Takes Friday! How was your week?
Phillip and I haven't gone out on a date in a while, so earlier this week we dropped off our son at gymnastics, then walked around the mall together and each bought a pair of workout pants. It was everything you'd expect from a date in a 21-year-old marriage.
Since last year, I've been upgrading our Easter decor to reflect our focus on Jesus during the Easter season and thought this might be a nice addition to the front door. "Do you like this?" I asked Phillip.
The world is so big, but in some ways it's also kind of small. Isn't it weird that the airport lady's voice is the same lady in so many places all over the world?
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—1—
My high schooler was supposed to pick up his sister from middle school, but he forgot. When I finally arrived home and realized she wasn't there and went to go pick her up myself, she wasn't too happy.
He apologized for not coming to get her (apparently he'd set an alarm on his watch but accidentally set it for the wrong time) and asked what she was doing that whole time she was waiting.
"Pondering the mysteries of the universe, probably," I said helpfully.
"I did!" She cried. "I sat there for so long I figured out the answer to the question 'to be or not to be.' After 35 minutes, I decided the answer was 'NOT TO BE!'"
—2—
Over the summer I took a break from my language exchange app, where I talk with Spanish speakers learning English, and never started up again in the fall.
This week I jumped back on it and had a short conversation. I feel a little out of practice but I didn’t say anything stupid (at least not egregiously stupid enough for Luis to correct me on), so that's something.
—3—
Someone brought the toy train set down from the attic to use for a school project (something about a Rube Goldberg machine) and now the younger boys have been playing with it.
"How sweet that they're not too old for trains yet," I thought, but as I went down to watch them play I noticed it wasn't like when they were toddlers. The goal here was to recreate as many accident scenes as they could think of.
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Still a work in progress. More wreckage to come. |
—4—
My 11-year-old brought home slime from school. Slime.
As much as I wanted to rip that Ziploc baggie from his hands and throw it out the window like a live grenade, I tried to be a fun mom. A supportive mom. I said he could keep it as long as it stayed in the kitchen and dining room, where there's no carpet and very little upholstered furniture to destroy.
Of course, then he had to push it, and could he puhleeeeeaaaase take it up on the balcony in the living room to see if it could stretch all the way down to the first floor? Yes he could, I said, because I'm an idiot.
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I should've known right about now that this wasn't going to end well. |
By the next day, I was cleaning slime out of the carpet and thinking of that scene in The Little Mermaid where King Triton says "I consider myself a reasonable merman" and ends up destroying Ariel's secret grotto.
—4—
We were in Burlington looking at the home decor (note to self: if you're looking for a plant stand, go to Burlington; I've never seen so many plant stands in one place in my life) and I saw an Easter door hanging that I kind of liked. This isn't the actual one I saw, but I found a similar picture online:
His response was a resounding NO. "It's got Easter eggs on it, that's weird."
"Weird? Why? People mix secular and religious traditions for holidays all the time."
"But not in the same decoration! That's like a Nativity set with Santa's elves in it."
I guess he might have a point, but I was too distracted by the image of Buddy the Elf next to Mary and Joseph to say so.
—6—
When my oldest kids were little I spent hundreds of hours making them gorgeous baby scrapbooks. I pictured flipping through them as a family to relive old memories, and then they would go on to be treasured by each kid's future spouse and children.
Well.
Fast-forward a decade or more, and the glue has lost its tackiness. The fragile scrapbooks are sadly not headed toward becoming forever keepsakes, they are headed for the garbage. When I first realized this was happening, I was super-sad. If the physical pages weren't going to last, I at least needed to digitize these things but it felt too overwhelming to start.
Encouraged by my ever-positive 13-year-old ("You can do it, Mom! Just do three pages a day and you'll get through them!") I began the slow, painstaking process of removing each page, taking its picture, and uploading it to the cloud so it can still live on in some format.
Maybe once I have the pages all digitally copied, I'll feel okay with setting the physical books out and letting the kids leaf through them until they really do fall apart. Because one thing I've realized in my journey to becoming a minimalist is that if I hide things away to preserve their specialness, not only will I never get to use them but they'll also never carry special memories for the kids so they won't want them after I'm gone, either. Special things were meant to be used, even if that means using them to death.
—7—
She seems like a delightful person.