An uncharacteristically quiet Saturday morning in Jantz-Estes land.
Let’s see, where did everyone end up in the night? I started out with the boys. Slipped out after G fell asleep. In my own bed by midnight. Joined by John at daybreak (he’d fallen asleep in his desk office chair). About an hour later J joined us, later followed by G, at which point John and J left, leaving G and me (and a garbage truck, and Lovey). Some time later, J arrived asking where John was. “Don’t wake him up!” I whispered/implored/warned. “I’m hungry!” replied J. “I’ll be down in a minute—don’t wake up your dad!” I finally rolled myself out to find J had gotten himself some yogurt and wanted some Kix, Papa Gary style (that is, with milk).
At present, John’s asleep in Gabriel’s bed. Gabriel’s asleep in our bed. J is asking how long ’til swimming lessons and am I going to take him because I said all week I was going to take him and I didn’t and today is the last day!—that is, until he starts swimming lessons again in a week.
Wait. G’s up. I hear his big baby feet pounding to the bathroom and then the toilet lid smash against the tank. Toilet lids are remarkably solid household objects. I did not properly appreciate their utilitarian beauty until the boys began doing their part to minimize landfill fillage. I know, fillage isn’t a word, but I feel this time slipping away from me as Jonah asks, “Why does Yoda have three fingers? How do they make him look like that? How do they make the hand without showing the puppet? . . . Anyways, I love you.”
Quick report: mammoth copyediting job is finally finished, though I now face invoicing/pay upon receipt glitches (note: I am not a shrewd business woman). We are readying ourselves for the next family visit (John’s sister Beth and kids visited last, my sister Beth and kids and husband visit next). The boys and I completed a two park, two discount store walking tour yesterday while John was away with the car. Dollar water cannons and googly-eyed glasses were procured. After a week of rain, the yard is out of control. Instead of eating my cereal Papa Gary style, I’d like to mow my three yards Papa Gary style (he just got a new riding mower!).
So begins our Saturday.