Friday, July 22, 2016

Day 22: Do you Copy?

Maybe it is being in a house of men that I've come accustomed to expecting they are usually only half listening to me.  Today has been a doozy though.  

But, as I often say in life, it is more fun to laugh than cry.  My favorite is laughter until you cry...and at my age, almost pee my pants!

I've learned to filter my conversations with hubby based on his exhaustion level.  Now that he works third shift, I have a small window for serious talks, or at least ones I want him to remember.  If I don't hit him as soon as he arrives home, or right before he goes to work, our talks are often incoherent jibberish.

On Fridays, he is normally off after 7 am; so he uses the day for his side jobs, errands and honey-do lists he needs to accomplish.  Today he didn't get in bed until almost 3 pm, which might not be a big deal, except for the fact that he's pulling an extra shift tonight.  

Around lunch time, I called to ask him to do a few things while he was out and my passengers in the car were rolling in tears by the time I hung up.  If I repeated myself once, I said it six times.  At one point I felt like an AT&T commercial.

"Can you hear me now?"

The issue wasn't my connection or signal strength; however, it was either his attention span or aging ears.  Or a mixture of both!

People comment all the time how much my son favors me but today he was taking very much after his dad.  At least in the sense of paying attention and understanding the conversation.

In our short lunch excursion, he managed to miss a turn, pass up his cousin's house, wrangle a loose cow in the road, and learn that there is a big difference between a hemorrhage and a hemorrhoid.

He takes after momma for being dramatic and tends to over exaggerate things.  I don't remember what our topic even was but we were both laughing because he was being silly in his description.  We were running late to get him to work and he was distracted trying to scratch his back.  

Noah often forgets how tall he is and hits his hat or hand or some other item on our ceiling fan often.  Today it was a metal back scratcher.  I'm not sure how the fan survived but that scratcher shot across the room and nearly took my eye out.  Once I recovered from the shock we were both doubled over in quiet laughter, so as not to wake his dad.

It wasn't until several minutes later he realized it had also taken a huge chunk out of his finger.  To the oil box we went where I doctored and bandaged him, rushing us both out the door.  He commented that it was throbbing and was worried it would gush through.

"You're not hemorrhaging, Noah," I said with a chuckle.

With a look of horror he gasped, "What's my butt got to do with it!?"  

I'm sure his employees thought I am one mean momma, laughing hysterically as I dropped him off.

Life with boys.  Oh, the joys!


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