Friday, July 26, 2013

it's still 3:30

For some bizarre reason, the idea of blogging has become completely daunting to me. I don't think I can do it, which is weird because I have been doing it for three years, with little to no effort.

I do believe they call this the inner workings of one's mind. My inner workings can sometimes be mean and confusing and lead me to believe I am not capable. Of anything. Plus, it's July. It seems every July I go through something where survival with all the children home from school becomes the number one priority, everything else withers away and almost dies.

Like the clean house. Where is the clean house?

So anyway, I just got back, well three days ago I just got back, from 9 days in the glorious Okanagan at my daddy's house. And my mummy's house. But it's my daddy that made me laugh. He was wearing a watch the entire time. And this watch possessed a battery that did not work.

It was always 3:30.

"Dad, what time is it?"

"It's 3:30."

"No, it's not 3:30."

"That's what my watch says."


This trip may have included our own private showing of The Lone Ranger. Nine people in the theatre and they all belonged to me. We spread out over three rows, we talked to each other. Loudly.

I played on my phone. The biggest theatre faux pas of all. And all without consequence.

Mwahahahaha. That's my evil breaking-the-rules laugh.

The new season of Honey Boo Boo came out, I think at 3:30, and the man would not let me buy the scratch and sniff magazine that accompanied the episode. I have no idea why not. I'm sure the whole episode smelled like peaches and rainbows. The man is such a party pooper.

Dinner time happened at 3:30. Every day. And so did breakfast and lunch and beach time and home time and bedtime and all the times happened at 3:30. My dad never took his watch off. He said it was a nice watch. He also said it was 3:30, when it wasn't.

And then, a few days into the trip, at around 3:30, the man left to run a few errands, in the United States of America. He left me in the Okanagan with 6 kids, which I was expecting but was secretly pleading with the Gods above that he wouldn't actually leave me there. When I tried to explain to the man that he owed me for what he was about to do he claimed he did not have a clue what I was speaking of. I gave him that look and he told me to ask you. So maybe I will.

Actually, I won't ask because I already know. You know how I know? Because I know, that's how. He owes me and I will collect. When I'm not so tired from all the vacationing.

Anyway, sometime around 3:30 on day 9 we packed up my truck to the ceiling and drove away. It was the longest day of my life. Not really, but it was close. I explained to the children that I did not want to stop, except for lunch. I wanted to drive and get home and end the madness.

Children don't listen well. We stopped once an hour for one child or another who simply could not hold it. This does not make me a happy driver. But, I'm sure I was being completely unreasonable. I was the one whining, "are we almost home yet?"

I was desperate.

It felt like time was standing still....

Like it was 3:30...

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