My old friend Insomnia has been back in town; I suspect the stream of snow days we've had is to blame. She likes to show up at my door any time that I get to sleep late on random Wednesdays.
Whenever I spend a few hours with Insomnia, she and I like to talk. Here's a sample of what went rolling through my brain last night:
1. Mom has me worried because she said Scout's been binging and purging. I am not sure if a cat can be bulimic, but it certainly would explain why Scout's been looking lean and svelte. I know it's nice to look good in your skinny jeans, but at what price, Scout? At what price?
2. I've got to print out that picture of Agnes for Mom. Mom had me worried about her, too, when she called less than an hour after picking up Ainsley for some Mamaw-and-me time to say the following:
"Yeah, can you get me a picture of Agnes?"
Ummm...who the f^&* is this Agnes, and how could you have gone senile so quickly? You were making sense an hour ago! How worried should I be that my kid is with this crazy person?
"Uhhh, Mom...what are you talking about?"
"You know, Agnes. She looks just like Ainsley did when she was little."
Fab. Now she's seeing little girls named Agnes running around...oh, wait! Agnes!
"Are you all watching Despicable Me, by chance?"
"Of course we are. Have Jason pull a picture off the Internet for me. Bye!"
I love my mom.
3. "He's climbing in your windows, he's snatchin' your people up, trying to rape 'em so y'all need to hide your kids, hide your wife, hide your kids, hide your wife..." Great. How did THAT get into my head? Again? Thanks, Insomnia. That was helpful.
4. I also can't quit thinking about that "Tiger Mom" book. I was condemning the author pretty hard until Jason told me I can sometimes push Ainsley too hard academically, and now I don't know if I have any business bad-mouthing this woman. But I proudly display Ainsley's last report card even though she got a B in math, and would a true Tiger Mom do that? Probably not. I push Ainsley in some subjects because I know she can get good grades. She is an excellent reader and writer and I will never be able to accept bad grades in those subjects. I don't push too hard; I am nurturing her talent. So that she can write a brilliant and scathing memoir about her relationship with her mother someday. I'm not a Tiger Mom; I'm more of a house-cat mom. I'm all fine and good until you ruffle my fur the wrong way and then I might give you a little hiss and bat you with my paw to let you know I mean business.
5. House cats...Scout...Blurg. Here we go again.
Sleep did come. But this morning in the shower, I still couldn't get Antoine Dodson out of my brain. Such is the life of those who entertain thoughts when they should be entertaining sleep.