When I was in seventh grade, my English teacher wanted to make a point. I’m not entirely sure why he picked the thing he did to make the point about, but it worked. He stood up on his desk in the middle of the classroom and bounced back and forth exclaiming that the phrase ‘a lot’ is two words, not one. “A lot – two words, a lot – two words.” I haven’t forgotten it.
Today was a good day, but it felt like a lot. Coaching a soccer game in the morning, followed by a baseball game in the afternoon, followed by teaching 2nd & 3rd grade boys class at Saturday night church service. By the time I got home at 7:00 for dinner (a great one I might add), I had little left but for a glass of wine and being silly with the boys around the table. We made funny voices and told jokes like a TV announcer: “You just ate your potatoes, how do you feeeeeel?”
When Mommy and I tried to unwind and watch a movie after the kids were in bed, I had to turn it off after just a bit more violence than I could handle at the end of the day (Olympus Has Fallen – skip it). It was a lot. Which happens sometimes. Like a glass overflowing, there’s sometimes a limit.
But even when you feel full, it’s still nice to look back at the day and remember the expression of your son on the field right after he rounded the bases or tagged the runner out at home. To picture them cracking up and looking wide-eyed at you like you are the greatest thing they’ve seen yet. I like those times. A lot.