Don't Quit The Day Job, Lady.

The Trips filled out one of those super-cute questionnaires about me at school a while back, in what was supposed to be a "Kids say the darnedest things" exercise.  I ended up nearly devastated.  Not because they all listed me as being in my 80's (really, who cares).  No, it's that none of them thought I was funny.  I know I'm not hilarious, not even close.  That title belongs to my sister and a couple other people I've met along the way in my years of existence.

So apparently I am some sort of ogre.  Not funny and certainly not cute, at least in the eyes of three of my children.  Okay, okay, I look nice when I go to weddings and birthday parties, which was three times last year. 

John tried to be The Hero and pulled each kid aside and told them to LIE and tell me I was funny.  Here's how it went down:

I overhear John whispering to Johnny "Go tell Mommy she's funny".

Johnny: "Hey Mommy."

Me: "Yes, Johnny?"

Johnny: "She's funny."

Me: "Who's funny?"

Johnny:  {Shoulder shrug}  "I don't know."  Walks away.

Cue Gracie, who does the Gracie swagger to the kitchen.

Gracie:  "Hey Mommy. You're funny."  Then, over her shoulder as she walks away: "But you're really not."

Me: "Thanks, Gracie."

NEXT!

Lizzy: "Hey  Mommy.  Daddy told me to tell you you're funny."  Walks away.

Me: "Thanks, Lizzy."

It's fairly obvious I have some work to do on my stand-up.

An example of the offensive opinions from the peanut gallery.

By the way, they are RARELY told to eat all their dinner.

Indoctrination

I took the kids to the high school track awhile ago to run the crazy out of them.  They're always asking question after question after question about the place anyway, and since we had absolutely nothing {free}to do, it seemed like a reasonable idea to pile everyone into the car and pop over to check it out.  I hadn't seen the new field anyway, so I figured it would be a winner.  It was.

Of course they HAD to run the track (they didn't know it was the only option), which led to "Running On The Track 101".  It was one of the few times they have ever been slightly fascinated with what was coming out of my mouth.  Annie didn't care to stay in her lane.  Everyone else was thrilled to have something that was all theirs.

Yes, I know it isn't the true 100m start.  It was hot, they had already passed it, and I was already flirting with irritating them.  So we compromised to try our first "Runners to your mark" stance.  They thought they were they were so speedy-quick.  Kidlets, Momma won't make you run, but maybe you could humor me for a season or two? Please?

Can't go to a stadium without jumping and rolling and cartwheeling in the end zone.  It's so super-cool. They thought, and still believe, they are super-cool. 

Got to get 'em hooked while they're young. :)

Two Steps Forward, One Giant Step Back

One of the kids was clearly not using her sweet little head tonight and "asked" me to be quiet.  To give her a wee bit of credit she did ask in a polite voice and she did say "please".  However, this is obviously a question that is not to be tolerated.  A question a child should never, unless in an emergency situation, ask an adult, at least in this house. 

This incident falls into the "giant step forward" category because everyone else but Annie had an "Oh, Snap!" moment, stopped what they were doing, whipped their heads around, eyes and ears wide open to see how badly Mommy was going to lose it.  It's nice to know that somewhere, tucked away in their internal files, they know that some comments are disrespectful to adults. So...hooray?

But then, within 5 minutes of a little victory, I stumbled across this:

Apparently, it is excruciatingly difficult to toss dirty clothes in a basket I positioned in the un-classiest yet most-convenient location. They almost had to put more effort in order to miss.

We'll get there.

I Know This Happens To Almost Everyone, But...

There are 930 pics on my phone and over 150 of them are of this little chucklehead.

Another 80 are of a kitchen cabinet. And then another 100 of the sofa:

The movies are fabulous as well, but I'll spare everyone a sampling of the 3 second mini-clips of rude noises that are scattered about my camera roll.

Two Thoughts

1. Class lists came for Ainsley and The Trips today.  Looking at their sweet names on the lists, in different classrooms, made me a little weepy.  This is for real, folks, and I'm not liking the thought that this chapter of our life is closing in just a few weeks.  They make me completely insane sometimes and I love watching them grow up, but...you know.

2. Along with the class lists was the "supply list" and we may have to take out a loan to cover this mess.  Plus, they all need new backpacks this year.  And probably lunch boxes. And shoes. And underwear.

Good grief.

Quote Of The Day

Setting:  In the car, on the way home from the zoo.

Johnny: "MOMMMEEEE!  Lizzy won't talk to me!"

Me: "What are you talking to her about?"

Johnny: "I'm trying to ask her a question!"

Lizzy: "I'm ignoring him."

This is exactly what I've been trying to tell them to do when a sibling is bugging the tar out of them (which is what was happening).  At least someone is listening.

Dear Laird Kidlets

I am tired.  You are funny and insightful and silly and I love you.  You are also children and behave like children (as you are supposed to do) and it can be exhausting to be your Mommy.  It's a good exhaustion and I'm thankful to have the opportunity to experience it, but there isn't a whole lot of physical or emotional energy left in my tank and this is why the house looks the way it does and grilled cheese and pasta and rice are the Big Three in the meal rotation.  It is also why you all know what "crazypants" and "Mommy's going koo-koo" means and when those words come out I'm about 8 more seconds of you all fighting/whining/crying away from losing it.

So I crash at night instead of cleaning or writing or sorting through clothes you've outgrown in the last two weeks.

And then I think of something funny one of you said today, like how Gracie still says "mind" instead of "mine", even though she has been told 457 times that isn't how it's supposed to be said, only to reply "I KNOW!  That's how I like to say it!" and stomp off indignantly. And I laugh and shake my head and fall asleep on the couch.

I love you all very much.  I really do. I'm just tired.