If you happened to notice that rift in the very fabric of the universe earlier today, it may have been due to the fact that we went out on a family outing and had a perfectly lovely day. Everyone behaved and there wasn't any traffic and when we came home everyone got ready for bed and turned in without complaint. It was weird. Good, but weird. In fact, when we were sitting in a restaurant eating, a kid at the next table fiddled with his cup until he dumped about ten ounces of ice directly into his shoes. (Crocs. Yet another hazard they don't tell you about---shoes full of ice pellets!) And I...
There are times when I behold my children and wonder if they have been replaced by aliens who've never had a mother. Times when I find myself asking what it is they don't understand about turning off a light or putting something in the hamper or not tormenting their sibling or waiting just a minute and not making my eardrums bleed while they do so. Those times, I wonder if I'm doing anything right, because clearly nothing is sinking in to their precious little half-formed brains. And sometimes when these things happen, I say things to them like, "Can you hear me AT ALL?" or "Is anyone home...
Chickadee: So there's Fred, and Tom--- Monkey: Sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Chickadee: Ew, no, they can't do that, they're both BOYS! Me: That's okay, sometimes boys kiss each other. Monkey: They do? Me: Sure, we've talked about that before. Chickadee: Oh YEAH! I remember now. And that's called... that's called... wait, I know... that's called MORMONISM! Me: Uhhhhhh, no.
[Ed. note: Believe it or not, this entire exchange was extremely jovial, punctuated with laughter on both sides.] Chickadee: So I had my piggy bank, and I tried to get the money out, except I shook it and shook it and--- wait. I lost my train of thought. I need to start over! Monkey: Stop. Chickadee: So! I had my piggy bank, and I tried to get the money out, except I shook it--- Monkey: Be quiet, I said. Chickadee: Whoops! Lost my train of thought! GOTTA START OVER! So! I had my piggy bank! And I tried to get the money out! Monkey: Stop. Talking. Chickadee: GOTTA START OVER! I had my piggy...
I love Halloween, but in the same way that I love tequila---a little bit goes a long way, and too much is, ah, regrettable. The dressing up? That's awesome. Having candy? Yes, please. (Especially from the point of view of this whole parenting gig, because they go begging FOR ME and then share because they love me. Or because they leave their buckets on the counter and go to bed earlier than I do. Details.) But when Halloween falls on a weeknight and the kids keep wanting to do "just one more house," at the end of the night while I'm trying to get cranky children into bed, I'm thanking the...
I feel like I've been writing about the kids a lot recently... like, more than usual. It's almost as though this is... I don't know... some sort of mommy blog or something. Huh. On the one hand, I know. I KNOW. They are amazing and wonderful to ME, but every parent thinks their kids are awesome, and what makes me think mine are any better or more interesting or whatever than anyone else's? I mean, PRIDEFUL MUCH? On the other hand, my children are no strangers to MAKING MY HEAD EXPLODE, so when they're being fantabulous I do feel like I've earned the right to share it with the world, you...
It's not that I'm not a fan of the Red Sox, because OF COURSE I am a fan of the Red Sox. I find that down here in the south I am even MORE of a fan of the Red Sox because it rather feels like more of my identity is hinging on it, somehow; and so this has nothing to do with my love of the team, or even how it just never stops being funny to me to poke Otto and say, "Hey! There's my favorite player, COCO CRISP! I bet he turns all chocolatey in milk!" And I am delighted that they won the Series. Truly, I am. In fact, I would like to extend a very special, heart-felt thanks to them for sweeping...
Chickadee was invited to a (co-ed, if it matters) birthday party for today. Said party was taking place at a local campground. Because it was a camp-out. Now, I will fully acknowledge that I am an over-protective mama, but I found this very, very weird. I don't know this kid, and I don't know his parents. And despite the fact that I regularly spent a MONTH at sleep-away camp every summer by the time I was 8, and these were 9- and 10-years-olds, I found a party invitation to go sleep in the woods bizarre. The party was slated to begin at 4, and I RSVPed to the hosts letting them know that...
So guess what I did this morning! Go on, GUESS! I put on a sweater. Because I was COLD. Which is sort of newsworthy in and of itself, I suppose (it's official: my blood has thinned), but that's not what I wanted to tell you. No, actually what I was referring to was the fact that today we had the long-awaited 504 meeting to "get things straightened out." I drove over to the school this morning with trepidation, bracing myself (and here I reveal my overwhelming geekiness, fair warning) with the rather soothing thought that even if the meeting didn't go well, it would surely yield so much...
