Preoccupation: A Journal Entry

Yesterday, my day started when Peanut showed up at the side of my bed, screeching, “I’m hungry! I’m hungry, Mommy! I want a waffle!” at 5:40a.m. I told her I’d be there in just a minute hoping she’d go in the kitchen and wait for me. My logic was that this would maybe give me approximately 1.2854 minutes more of sleep before she ran back down the hall and continued her morning assault. I didn’t get so lucky. So, I hauled myself out of bed and slipped on one of the farmer’s zip up hoodies because I was cold.

I was cold because I was wearing a very light-weight jersey knit nightgown.

I was wearing a very light-weight jersey knit nightgown because sleeping next to my husband is like sleeping next to an electric blanket turned all the way up. He’s quite toasty and I tend to be a hot-natured gal, anyway.

So, I slipped his hoodie on as a makeshift robe.

Picture this: the Hunchback of Notre Dame with his hair piled on top of his head, dragging his knuckles as he walks and you’ve got a visual of Breauna making her way to the kitchen for that sweet nectar known as coffee. You’re welcome for that.

I stuck Peanut’s waffle in the toaster, started sipping away at my coffee, perked right up, and my normal day started off as usual, other than keeping Peanut home because of a low-grade fever. I’m such a creature of habit that I’ll go ahead and blame what I later did on the fact that my routine got a little out of whack.

And that I’m trying to plan for a family trip to KC this weekend.

And that I’m having family come visit the next weekend.

And that we’re having family pictures done and I can’t decide what to wear.

And that I have a new-found obsession with Zulily.

And that I’m trying to find new coffee mugs that I like because all of mine have disappeared into this strange abyss called the “dairy barn” where all coffee mugs go to die. And then, when I’m hobbling into the kitchen every morning, I don’t even have anything to DRINK OUT OF!!!!

But, I’m not bitter.

Anyway, I’m bee-boppin’ around the house, washing dishes, folding laundry, bribing Peanut just so she’ll take some Motrin, checking our bank accounts and balancing checkbooks…you know, the usual things when my husband enters the house like a storm and says, “I’ve got to go into town. I’ve got  to get plastic to wrap bales and some other things I need before I start baling this hay I cut. This isn’t gonna be a joy ride, so if you guys are going, you better get around! I’m in a big hurry.” Usually, Peanut is game for these trips. She just likes to ride around, but yesterday morning, she decided she’d rather just stay home. I was fine with that, so I just continued to do all the busy work that comes along with being a wife and mom.

As the farmer is heading out the door, she decides she DOES want to go. So, I’m rushing around trying to get her ready, doing my hair, cleaning up the dishes on the table, putting jeans on, putting shoes on, turning the TV and the lights off. I hear my husband’s truck start up, notice that Peanut has left out the back door, and see my husband inching his way down the driveway in front of our house. Yeah, he does that sometimes. I think he thinks it’ll make me hurry up. He’s right.

So, I run out the door, trying to high-step it through wet grass, hop in the truck, and we’re off. About midway down our looooong driveway, the farmer turns to me with this sly grin on his face and says, “Soooo, we’re wearing our nightgown to town today, huh?”

I look down and, yep, there it is. A midnight blue piece of material hanging about 6 inches under the hoodie I never took off. He noticed it as I was making my way across the yard, said it was puzzling, and yet only mentions it when we’re halfway down the driveway…

The farmer always says I’m good for a laugh and, obviously, he doesn’t ever have to go very long without one. We got to the feedstore and all I could do was tuck it in my jeans, laugh, and make sure the farmer’s hoodie stayed adequately zipped.

The moral to this story? When I’m 1) out of my routine and 2) being rushed, bad things will happen. It’s guaranteed. However, the upside is that it does it make for a funny story once in a while…

Breauna

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3 thoughts on “Preoccupation: A Journal Entry

  1. Hey, at least you had pants on!!! I mean really, what more could he want?!!! I’m proud of you just getting out of the house that quickly with the kid, pants and two shoes on!

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