But it’s Tuesday.
And Carol posted for me. That’s love.
Here are some other love-y things:
1. Today my two year old pooped in the tub. If you’ve been reading this blog with any regularity, you will know this is one of my worst things ever. EVER. When it happened, two year old started crying hysterically. I ran in there (I was close by, very close, changing his brother’s diaper) and he was throwing the poo at the toilet. Now right off, I was umm, distressed. I wanted to scream, actually. But he was already doing it for me. He was so upset and kept trying to scoop up the stuff and get it to the toilet.
Though he was too beside himself to talk, I think he was trying to say he loved me. And he was so sorry. And he wanted to make it better. But he didn’t know how. And even though I almost died it was so disgusting, I also saw that my little boy is a sweetheart.
2. I go to the pool with my dad a few times a week. Sometimes we do a class. Sometimes we do weights in the deep end. It’s good. lately an older gentleman has been joining us. He has a lot of things to say–mostly about gravity and whether Superman is feasible. My dad is a physicist so I guess he can answer those types of questions. Today while I was on one end of the pool, he and my dad were at the other and they got in an argument.
My dad said he told the guy that I wrote books and that my latest one was about talking to dead people. The guy said that sounds stupid. No one would ever read that.
My dad said, that’s not true. How do you know?
And he said he was a literary person himself. Having won a few awards and such and no one wants to read about talking to dead people. My dad disagreed. They argued. Then my dad said that he was writing a memoir and the man said, that will be boring.
My dad said, no it’s about my wife and she’s extraordinary. And the man said, I can already tell you’re going to make her out to be an angel and she wasn’t an angel.
This is when my dad got mad. He said, you don’t know me. You don’t know my wife. You don’t know my daughter. You don’t know her writing. How do you know if they’re good books or not?
The man said, clearly you can’t take literary criticism. My dad said, I can. I actually appreciate and look for good literary criticism. What you just said, however, is not literary criticism.
The man said, don’t get mad. Don’t get mad. I’m just trying to help you out. Dad said, you are not helping me out. Then he swam over to me and we went to walk the wrong way in the lazy river (which is not very lazy if you ask me).
My dad never gets in fights. Especially not with strangers. In the deep end. But my dad is also my greatest supporter. He loves me and he’ll always defend me. He also loves my mom. And she was an angel. A spitfire angel to be sure, but an angel nonetheless. His memoir is not boring.
3. And finally, I am laying in bed writing this while my husband reads Star Wars books to the boys after a long day at work. He then will discuss yoda and ahsuka? and the rebel alliance? and whatever else deep into the evening. While I read a book.
What love have you had in your life today? Did it involve poop?