Can't Handle This

Ainsley is officially signed up for Kindergarten. I'm holding it together, but my heart has a general malaise about it right now.

The kindergartners in our district have the option to ride a bus to school (if you live within a mile of school you are supposed to walk). I asked her if she wanted to ride or have me take her and she chose the latter. Phew! Relief, in part, because there is no way I wanted to be the crazy lady, sobbing uncontrollably on the corner the day my little baby steps onto a bus and out of my reach for the first time.

I would prefer to be the crazy lady who sits in my car in the school parking lot and cry, thank you very much.

A Rut

I'm in one. The weather here has been lousy. There's been loads of junk going on. The kids are so, so fabulous and so, so not fabulous for weeks.

I love this town and most everyone in it, but I could leave here in January and February and not miss an angstrom of this place. Okay, the people. I would miss most of the people.

But then it started snowing today. You know, the big bunches of flakes. The ones that, if you try to catch them with your tongue, would cover your face from nose-to-chin. My very favorite.

And I was reading books to Gracie and Johnny and they weren't fighting over my lap. And Ainsley and Lizzy were playing nicely in my room (destroying it, but they were having fun jumping on the bed). And there were giggles and wrestling and swinging and dancing and it was perfectly lovely because I never dreamed I would be allowed a family like this.

So I peeked out of my rut for 30 minutes today and it wasn't so bad. I ducked back in, but maybe tomorrow I'll give another looksie.

Where Is My Brain??

I started the dryer (clothes, of course. it would be silly to think it was a hair dryer - that would imply I have time for that) the other day and as I was heading up the stairs I heard the "whump, whump" that happens when a shoe gets in there or the load is unbalanced.

Hmm.

Stop the dryer, rummage around the clothes for a bit to see what could be making the noise, pray the dryer is not breaking.

Nothing is found, so I turn the thing back on and walk away.

Whump. Whump.

Whatever. I ignore it.

As I unloaded the dryer, I discovered pieces of this:


which was absolutely full when I must have somewhat intentionally tossed it in there. It was a load of the kids' clothes, which I meticulously scan for stains before I put them in the wash. The only thing I can think of is that I sprayed an item and then tossed both in. The clothes ended up all stiff and smell like Shout in a nauseating way.

Two-Year-Olds Talking

Lizzy: *Coughs*

Johnny: "Izzy Ooo! You okay?"

Lizzy: "I okay, Nonny. Jus' coughin'. "

Johnny: "Okay, Izzy"

Darling. Would have been grade-A adorable if it hadn't been 5:30 in the morning and I wasn't in their room with Lizzy on my chest, hoping she would go back to sleep. She didn't.

These kiddos really, really, need to figure out how to wake up in the 6's. These 5-ish hours are completely unacceptable.

Mean, Mean Mommy

Whenever I need to guarantee the Big Three stay out of my room, I put this Bad Boy in the middle of the floor:



Obviously we try to keep the door shut, but is that always going to happen?

Why do I do this? All four of my kids despise the vacuum cleaner. Ainsley barely tolerates it now and still makes sure she leaves the area; when she was little I'd find her in her bed, desperately sucking on her paci to keep her blood pressure down. But the Three, they go grade-A ballistic. If I even mention that I need to vacuum they start to cry. Lawd help us all when I actually roll the thing out of the closet...which is what happened today.

It had been an embarrassingly long time since the floor of my bedroom had been cleaned and I perceived it was a "safe" time. The kids were downstairs, happily playing, just had a snack, happy, happy, happy. "I'll just get this done speedy-quick. They'll hear it, but will be downstairs. I'll shut the door." Silly, silly Mommy.

Gracie followed me upstairs, then Lizzy. Gracie heard me tell my friend, Joan (I was on the phone), that I was getting ready to vacuum and started crying. Me: "Gracie, go get your lovies sweetie! (I rarely tell her she's allowed to get those nasty things out of her crib). " She retrieved them and then pronated herself in the middle of my bedroom floor, sobbing. Lizzy had already run away, screaming. I was pulling the vacuum out of the closet when Johnny strolled in, oblivious, carrying a princess tea party bowl, full of cereal and a spoon (why??). He took one look, literally threw the bowl and spoon in the air, turned tail and ran away. The look of terror on his face made me feel a little sorry for him, but GUYS!

They all left and I shut the door, fortunately spared from the freak-out-fest that then took place. Finally finished, I came downstairs to see all four kiddos on the couch watching Curious George (a fan favorite around here). You see, John works from home and had to come up from the basement to stop the madness. Three little faces red from crying. Big sigh from me.

We should start saving now for the counseling they're going to need because their mother didn't want them to live in filth.

Game ON!!!

So John likes colored lights on the Christmas tree and since I don't have much of an opinion about it, colored lights it is. This year we had a problem: we could only find one strand of tree lights when we unpacked our tree decorations box. Obviously not enough. Easily solved - call Bob, friend and neighbor, (father of SuperBabysitter, husband of Friend Joan). Turns out that Bob is offended by colored Christmas lights, is a bigger Christmas snob than I ever was, and implied that the Laird clan is less than dignified (we aren't dignified, but a whole lot of Pride does reside in this house).

What to do? Take our single strand of colored lights and wind it into Friend Bob's perfectly placed white lights on his tree outside. He noticed immediately, of course.


What happens next? This pretty thing appeared one night in our yard:



There is a motion detector on the lollipop. It plays tinny Christmas tunes when set off and the candy canes flash.

I went on a run one evening and heard the music 4 houses down.

The kids love it.

Every animal, vegetable, or mineral that passes by the motion detector sets it off.

We got a bit distracted by some crazy stuff for a bit, otherwise retribution would have been swift and painful. With the holiday season closing it's a little too late, but plans are already in motion for next year.

Game on, friend Bob. Game on.

Not Ready For This

I found out yesterday that kindergarten sign-ups for Ainsley's school are January 28th. How in the world am I going to allow this sweet-faced thing to start real school????



Thank you, Carrie, for the pic!