Too Much Thinking is Bad for the Brain

I have a new boss at work.  He's a Type A, forward thinking kind of guy.  I'm OK with that, I'm fairly Type A myself.  However, this week he asked me what I want to do next year.  NEXT YEAR?  It's only September!

I took a moment to enlighten him about my "grass is always greener" complex, and told him that right now might not be the best time to ask me what I want to do next year.  To say that working full-time and taking classes has been a bit overwhelming is a major understatement. 

I didn't tell him that if I had to decide right now, there is a good chance that I would choose the couch, bon-bons, and a really good book. 

This sounds terrible, but the thought of staying at home while my kids are at school........well, it sounds like a little piece of heaven right now. 

The other day I walked into a friend's house in the middle of the week and it was perfectly clean.  Granted, they just moved in a month ago, but I asked her if her house really looks like that all the time.  I nearly fell over when she admitted that, yes, she really tries to keep it consistently looking that nice.  Again.....another little piece of heaven.   

The question for me, though, is how long would it really last?  I'm not talking about the clean house; I already know that answer.

How long would I be content not being submersed in the field of education?  My track record for staying away from it is really not so great. 

How long before I would be wondering why I was sitting at home when both of my kids were in school?  How long before I would be wishing that I was there with them?

Honestly, it just makes my head hurt. 

Balance.  What I really need is balance.  It is the answer that I am looking for, I just haven't quite figured out how to make it reality. 

I'm a little nervous that I am going to wake up one morning with an 18 year old ready to go off to college, and I am still going to be trying to figure it out.  And that I'll look back and realize that all those years of trying to find balance just landed me with years of regret.

Friday Night - Kid Style

Sand box creations built.

Caterpillars caught.

Mud races finished.

Soccer game played.

Brownies eaten.

Hide and seek mastered.

Nerf battle fought.

Wii games accomplished.

Four boys asleep in tent in basement.

Perfect boy Friday evening.

Adults exhausted.

What Are We Thinking????

Like Father....

(It's been nice knowing you.  He is going to kill me when he sees this.)

Like Son.

Minus the mullet.



Here is how it started...

Two weeks ago on Sunday we were walking through Walmart.  My five year old said, "I want one of those!" while pointing to the battery powered toy motorcycles.  My eight year old put in his two cents, "Yeah, Dad, we have a big yard, it would be so fun to drive around with that.

My husband told my eight year old that he was too big for one of those, and what he really needed was a dirt bike. 

I thought he was kidding. 

I also didn't give it too much thought because my husband is....ummmm....a saver of money.  Careful.  Cautious.  Thrifty. 

What I forgot to take into consideration is that my husband grew up with three wheelers and motorcycles.  His dad built him a three wheeling track complete with hills and jumps. 

Nevermind that he nearly died from a three-wheeling accident when he was in fifth grade.  We won't focus on that little fact.

So, Sunday the conversation started.  Wednesday they went to the motorcycle store.  Saturday the purchase was made.  And now we have this. 

My parents aren't sharing much of an opinion, which speaks for itself.  My MIL said, "I can't believe you allowed him to buy that."  My son is elated.  And there are 37 and 70 year old little boys outside freezing their rears off, having the time of their lives.....building a track complete with hills and jumps. 

A Bug's Life

I have absolutely no idea if my child is learning anything in Kindergarten.  In the morning, he says he doesn't want to go to school.  In the afternoon, he says his day was "good".  When asked what they did during school, he doesn't remember.  

Unless I ask about recess.  Then I get some information....because that is when he goes bug hunting. OH MY.  It is out of control.

Ever since this child was a tiny baby, we have called him "Bug".  Not always, just sometimes.  It was just a fun little nickname.  Usually I use it with his name in front of it, because it just rolls off my tongue all cute-like. 

Now I am thinking this maybe wasn't such a good idea.  The level of infatuation with bugs is almost frightening.  If I had known the power of a nickname, I would have opted for something like "Genius"....

Everyday he brings home a ziploc bag that looks something like this. 

This week he has expanded his search to spiders.

This does not thrill me.

However, he is IN LOVE.  Spiders are way more fun because they spin webs right from your hand.  As demonstrated here....

And here....

Until you manhandle the spider so much that the spider keels over dead right on the spot.  This act instigates hysterical, sobbing sadness.

As demonstrated here....

September....Finally

Reminders from the last couple of weeks....

*I like school, but August might just be my new least favorite month of the year.  Too busy, too much work, too many babysitters for the kids, too hot, too tired to do a good job of transitioning schedules.

*My 8 year old was filling out a "What's the Scoop?" page for his 3rd grade teacher on Thursday night.  It was full of statements like, "I am good at __________", and "I wish I could meet _________".  My son was doing pretty well until he hit, "Life is __________".  His first words were "not good".  I tried (fairly unsuccessfully) to hide my shock and tried to explore this statement a bit.  What I got was plenty of tears and no explanation.  My heart started breaking a little.

*The Sunday School class I am going to just started The 5 Love Languages of Children.  The VERY FIRST PAGE held a story about a 3rd grade boy who was withdrawing, acting up at school, and struggling at home.  When the parents were asked if anything had changed in the home, the mother shared that she had just gone back to work full time for the first time in years.  Rip.My.Heart.Out.

*My son's primary love language is quality time.  Time......time.....time.  No decisions made yet, because I don't tend to be a rash decision maker, but the Master's classes may have to be put on hold.

*On a completely different note, here is a piece of advice.  When your clothes are feeling a little tight, and your upper arms are waving goodbye long after your hand is finished, and you think about asking your weight-lifting husband to design a program to help you get back in shape...don't do it.  OUCH.  Go somewhere else.  Get a trainer.  Pay the money.  It will be easier to fire the guy.