The Days All End in Tears

Matt and I took the kids to Stone Mountain Park in GA last week and had a great time.

After we did the activities in the park, we took the cable car up to the main attraction at Stone Mountain Park, which is - wait for it - a mountain made of stone.

The kids were running around and Matt and I were talking when I spotted this guy not far from us. He had on athletic shorts (with a hand towel tucked into the waistband) and no shirt on. And he was holding a jump rope. He paced for awhile, holding the jump rope. I could tell he was fighting an internal battle whether to jump rope or not. Because who, on God's green Earth, exercises in such a spectacular location without someone else to record it to post on social media? What's the use of jumping rope on top of a mountain if Instagram will never see it?

So I was half listening to Matt while keeping an eye on this guy, ready to snap a picture when he did start jumping because it was just so funny to me.

*interrupts Matt's talking about financial stuff*

"Oh, wait! It's happening!"

Ok, you can't really see him. He only jumped for about 10 seconds, disheartened, I'm sure, by the fact that he was doing this really cool thing for no other reason than that it was good for him and enjoyable to do.

Had I thought of it, I would've offered to take a picture of him with his cell phone. Then he could post and add a bunch of hashtags: #jumprope #onamountain #sunshine #exercisepostoritdoesn'tcount

Because everyone knows that you have to post your workout for likes and comments or it's wasted. Poor guy.

On the way home with 2 3-year-olds who had missed naps, Matt and I again expressed our desire to one day buy a limo with a soundproof barrier behind the front seats as our family car.

Oh the crying and arguing.

Noah is especially potent when he's tired. He's so illogical it's hard not to laugh. I feel like I'm on a police jumper squad, trying to soothe a dangerous person.

(As I put him into his bed for a nap):

Noah, screaming, crying: "This is not my room! This is Katie's room! (Here he holds up his stuffed salmon). This is not my salmon!"

Me: "Of course not. You don't even like salmon."

Noah bursts into fresh tears, frustrated by the fact that I'm agreeing with him when he wants to argue.

Noah, screaming: "I'm going to turn into a giant and carry you out of the house!"

Me: "That's nice of you."

Noah: "It's not nice, it's mean!"

He turns away from me and cries for a minute.

Then he pulls the blanket over him and says softly "Mama, I want you to hold me."

Another crisis averted.