I am going to attempt to do what few others have done before: blah, blah, blah about #Whole30 life (W), articulate my crazy (C), and express immeasurable gratitude (G). Buckle up, buttercups.
This morning began with the standing pajama-clad, news-broadcasting, coffee in bed date with #bffhusband. (G)
Seriously, priceless in all the good ways.
Breakfast with out-of-town family, and in-town family. (G) In a restaurant. Insert big, fat (W) sigh. Ordering has taken on a new level of When Harry Met Sally high-maintenance activity.
And we broke our fast in a diner, where butter and grease reign supreme.
So, when I inquired as to whether or not the hard-working kitchen crew could prepare my spinach , mushroom, no-cheese omelette without butter , the sweet-slammed-I-appreciate-you-but-I-aint-got-time-for-this-nonsense server did a somewhat-believable job of NOT laughing in my face. The fruit was really, really delicious. (W) (G) (C) However, I did bring my (W) coconut creamer in a thermos, so I'm sure no one thought I was a strange, privileged, millennial-wanna-be at all.
We give and receive hugs and kisses with the fam (G), then my husband and I pull into our driveway where I am apprised of his intention for the first part of the afternoon. Quote, "I'm going to unload the trailer, return it, then blow up the cow to dry it out." (C) Because that is a phrase not everyone hears on a beautiful, Florida 80 degree Saturday in November. (B) B stands for bitter because 80 degrees in November is really unacceptable behavior for any state, regardless of whether you boast the sunshine.
Add in the fact the blowing up of the cow (don't think Halloween or Christmas yard decor; think a building Superman would leap over) is taking place in our front yard, and I'm pretty sure the neighborhood association will show up to picket later. (C)
I'm starving. So, I hug our bleary-eyed teenagers who barely noticed our absence during their oh-so-sweet youthful Saturday morning slumber session, and prepare a (W) meal that will last me through a work out and part of the afternoon. As a side note, licking avocado off my fingers is apparently not sexy. The whole green booger-like-imagery did not amuse my husband. (C)
Plus, he's really not a fan of the (W) "tools" being all over our kitchen counters. They are washed, but I will not put back up because I'm only going to use them again in two hours. They are arranged nicely. We will survive. (C) (G) (W)
On his way out the door, my husband decides to do something he has never, ever done before. He takes a bit out of my (W) bowl of yummy before asking me what is in it. He then proceeds to gag and make his way out the front door where he spews what is probably $5 worth of organic-unsweetened almond butter into the dirt. Now, I am not amused. (W) (C)
My son, in the meantime, is arranging a time where his science buddy can come over and make a volcano from homemade play-dough, vinegar, and salt. Lord Jesus, I just cannot. (C)
My daughter is asking me questions clearly not appropriate before I've eaten anything of real sustenance. (W) (C)
I open the fridge for something and notice what looks like a murder scene on the second shelf. The roast. The one defrosting for 3 days. The one I was supposed to cook in the crockpot, but because of the (C)—never happened—has seen fit to seek revenge by BLEEDING all over the glass shelving. I can hear my husband driving away, and I scramble to make this mess disappear. In my world, this is a 5 minute clean-up and look the other way project. In his world, this is a perfect opportunity to detail clean the entire kitchen. (C) (G)
I sigh and get ready to eat my (W) yummy. Then, I hear a strange noise that turns out to be the blowing up of a bovine. (C)
And my husband just told me he feels the need to purge, minimalist, simplify. (I have no letters.)
About-to-be-napping-despite-it-all with Scribbles,
Amanda Williams is a forty-year old wife and mother of two who can still swing her pony tail and display just a tad of sass. She is also a Jesus loving girl who realizes she is nothing without the One who saved her. Amanda has two degrees specializing in serving students with special needs and is currently working in the field of Leadership Development. She is a Christian author, speaker, blogger, and publisher who loves serving beside her husband at her local place of worship, First Baptist Church of Ocala.