Slad? Salad?

What do you call it when you’re sad about something, but also glad about the same thing for a different reason? Like when you’re sad that someone dies, but you’re glad they’re not suffering anymore? I’m having a day like that, but on a much smaller scale than that whole Death Scenario.

After the exceedingly sleepless night that Isaac and I had last night, I needed a nap- BAAAAAAD. Mark, Madelyn, my aunt et al offered to take Simon to the mall with them this morning so I could have a nap with Isaac. Sweet! And it was… until he woke up after a short nap (I DID get to sleep, though), ate, and then puked on my bed. OK, that’s fine. I was glad I’d had some time to rest, anyway, even if I hate missing a chance to get out of the house for a while.

I got a bigger dose of that this afternoon. Simon had his nap after lunch. There were loads of people around to look after Sir Snots-a-Lot, so I attempted to have a real nap. Then Dad came in and said they were all going to the Haunted Hayride. I reeeeeally wanted to go- who wouldn’t? But Simon was still asleep, and I was mostly asleep, myself, so we stayed home. And we slept for another few hours in the blissfully (and unusually) quiet house. It was SO good, and I needed it SO much after last night. But come on- it was a haunted hayride! I don’t actually know what that even means, but I’m sorry we missed it.

Come to think of it, though… what else were they going to do? Let me come along and leave my 3-year old here by himself? Wait until he woke up (at 4:30)? Or, God forbid, wake him up… None of them really good options at that point. Maybe my option was to say, “No, I’ll get up and you can leave Isaac here, too!”, though I’m pretty sure no one would have expected me to do that.


Simon and I are now watching the old “Superman” cartoon (the OLD old one), and I am once again marveling at the horrible, horrible racial stereotypes, and wondering if Simon’s going to be scarred for life by hearing badly-drawn Japanese men screaming “NOOOO MOOOOOOE TALKIE!”  It’s worse than the “Injuns” in Peter Pan, I swear.

Also wondering (again) why Lois Lane looks like a friggin’ blow-up doll.


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