A Month of Sundays....

Okay, thanks to my buddy, Nick on FB, and my real life gal pal, C, I'm back in the saddle again tonight.  I know it's been a month of Sundays since I've sat down and wrote anything to all of you and for that, I apologize.  I'd love to say that it's because of this and that or the other but mostly it's because I sit down and look at this little blank space and I'm not always sure what to say.

So *deep breath* I'll just say what's on my mind right now this second.

Sunday nights.

Growing up with my grandparents, Sunday nights were for staying in, popping popcorn, heating up frozen pizza, and watching TV.

Over the last 30 years, not much has changed in my life for Sunday nights.

They're still that night for regrouping and packing your lunch.

Taking a bath and shaving your legs.

It's for painting little girl's toenails.

It's for reminding the boy that he should pack up all his baseball stuff NOW and not three hours from now when I'm ready to go to bed and don't feel like washing this or that in the middle of the night thank you very much, sir.

It's for walking around in a pink chenille robe - even though it's hot outside - because your husband has the thermostat set to 'meat locker'.

It's for setting cream cheese out on the counter so you can make that 'really cool apple dip' for the kiddos to have for snacks during the week.

It's for making that mental grocery list in your head because you're gonna stop after work tomorrow night because gas just recently starting costing an arm, a leg, a thigh, and the rights to your first born.

It's for letting the dog out to go do his business and stopping to admire the mums you planted a week ago.  And to smile at the pumpkin vines because they finally quit looking like that pasty kid in the back of the class who sniffs glue and looks at his own boogers.

It's for looking under the couch because someone dropped the remote and the batteries rolled under the couch and you'd love to go to the kitchen drawer and get some more instead of hefting up the couch but someone left the empty battery container and didn't say a word to anyone about it and dear god, we have to watch powerpuff girls right this second (seriously?  Up yours, Buttercup)(sidenote:  Jude hates it when I call her Butterfart) before my head implodes, momma....so you heft up the couch and find nine-thousand-four-hundred and sixty-two hair ties and two fishsticks, nine pencils and two batteries. 

It's for thinking about a friend who had a horrid week and saying a quiet prayer of peace for her.

It's for thinking about how blessed I am.

It's for wondering if I have clean underwear for tomorrow and then remember that I'm the one in charge of the laundry and if I don't then I have no one to blame but me.  Or Kenny.  I'll blame Kenny.

It's for watching the National Weather Service Radar and wondering if I'm going to sleep before midnight.  Although, I'm sipping on a glass of iced tea anyway, so consulting the magic 8 ball here and thinking 'odds do not look good'.

 It's for snuggling down with a new book.

It's for those twenty 'just-one-more' hugs & kisses.

It's for the boy smacking the trim around the door and saying 'Night, Mom' before he takes the steps two-at-a-time.

It's for pizza, popcorn, and apples.

It's time for reflection.

And soon, it'll be time for bed.