Brooke fuller

Hobos and Post Hole Diggers

“Come on! Let’s go pick up rocks!” I literally believed my kids were going to think that was a fun task; however, I quickly realized their excitement for cleaning up the backyard was not at the same level as mine was. Built a fire. Played in the sandbox. Watched Kyle build the pull-up bar he has longed for for two years. (You better believe by the end of the year, I’m going to be able to do 7 pull-ups. Watch out world!) Put my middle children in holes that hid over half of their bodies. Went to a basketball game. Played in the sandbox more and bought 2 weeks worth of groceries for $150. Good job team.

For half the day my wardrobe consisted of pink and gray stripey pajama pants, one of Kyle’s blue and black flannel shirts, Kyle’s tall black sock (which the pajama pants were tucked into), tennis shoes, and a very high ponytail that had fallen over to the side during all my hard work picking up rocks. I didn’t even realize what I looked like until the lumber yard delivery man walked into our driveway. (Insert face slapping emoji.) “Hi, I’m Brooke and I don’t always dress like a hobo.” The outfit went very nicely with the dirt I’d accumulated on my body the previous 2 hours.

After becoming disgusted with my appearance, I finally worked up the motivation to shower before going to a basketball game where I dropped a sucker three inches from the court as the guys were running toward me on a fast break. I quickly rescued the sucker without dropping the baby and hustled to the edge of the court.

Went home to see the pull-up bar standing nicely and level-ly by the driveway before taking a Wal-Mart trip that consisted of somewhat (AKA blatantly) hiding from a certain human, dropping a can of salsa in the aisle, watching Malachi drop a bundle of bananas that led to one breaking in half, and biting my tongue in silence when the cashier lady kept sliding the gift card I’ve had for months the wrong way and/or extremely powerfully through her little machine and wondering why it wasn’t working. “Um…yeah, I’ll just use it next time. Thaannkkksss” ??

I just looked down to see that I am, again, wearing tall black socks which now have purple jeggins tucked into them. I really need to figure out this stay-at-home-and-not-look-like-a-hobo thing.

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