Status: Twittering now. Tweet. (If you know what Twitter is.)
Song: "Too Much Time on My Hands" by Styx
C'mon, Jaime, you say. Blogs can be entertaining, informative, a great way to keep in touch, or downright weird, but save your life?
Oh, yes! Indeed blogs can save your life. I shall elaborate...
*wavy lines indicating a flashback*
Place: The Theler house.
Time: This morning, 5 minutes before car pool arrived.
The Story: I had just made B. stop playing his strategy-based, conquer-the-world computer game to get ready to go. I was doing what all mothers learn to do in order to survive--multi-tasking. Meaning I was fixing my boys lunches and flipping through B.'s school planner (that needs parent's initials every day) when I noticed some key homework-type things were incomplete, despite my son's assertions the day before that his homework was all done.
I called upstairs to my beloved 10 year-old to tell him he had 5 minutes to get it done. Whereupon he promptly started freaking out because there was no way he had enough time to get it done and he was going to get a bad grade which was going to affect his ability to get into college and then he'd be stuck flipping burgers at McDonald's and living on minimum wage the rest of his life... (notice no pausing for breath)
**Okay, I have to be honest. He *did* freak out, but the part about affecting his ability to get into college etc. is just my wishful thinking, as we continually have these discussions about why he should even care what grades he gets.**
So, B.'s freaking out. Then screams that his agenda is downstairs and he needs to be on the internet to do something which is...gasp...upstairs. You know. A *whole flight* of steps apart. It could kill a 10 year-old. (No, no sarcasm here.)
Being the compassionate mom I am, I tell him, "Just go get it."
He replies, "That means I'll have to go all the way downstairs! And then go all the way back up here!"
Yeah, pretty much.
"Can't you get it for me?" he yells.
Note: He would probably have been finished by this point if he'd skipped the freaking out yell-fest.
"So," I said. "You want me to go all the way upstairs, then have to go all the way back down here? I don't think so. Your legs work just fine."
*This is where the life-saving part comes. Are you ready?
My precious first-born--the fruit of my loins--then said in all seriousness, "Well, you're the one who has all the time in the world, while I have to go to school!"
It was as if everything stood still.
In a flash, something like tickertape unrolled in my mind, detailing all the things that I had to do today, with all those things I optimistically hoped I would get to, as well as the stuff I didn't quite get to yesterday or the day before or the week before, and the huge long compilation of stuff I need to eventually get to that always hovers like a bad smell in my psyche wherever I go. That was overlaid by all the things I'd already done the 3+ hours I'd been awake, including homemade breakfast, a load of laundry, dishes, making the kids' lunches, getting them ready for school, checking and replying to email, and making sure my son did his homework.
But apparently I have all the time in world.
Things started to take on a reddish hue, just like in cartoons. Mount Mommy was gonna blow. And it didn't look good for one 10 year-old.
Then, like a ray of sun, came the thought. "This will make a great blog."
I started composing it in my head right then and there and my son made it out to carpool alive. See? Blogs really can save your life.