I discovered today that my two year old wasn't punishing me for being gone four for days. Instead, he was gearing up for a high fever.
Of course, he couldn't have decided to share this infomortion when we were home all alone. No, he waited for his aunt and four small cousins to be over for the entire day so he could wake up from his nap burning hot and spread all those nasty little germs to the entire family.
Too bad this was the day he and his 2 YO cousin chose to start sharing. Cups, beds, snacks....
YUCK.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The washer is running, PBS is on the TV, the dishwasher needs unloading, I have stacks of “stuff” to look through, and I am babysitting two extra kids. I have officially reentered the REAL WORLD!
Not to mention, my 2 YO is punishing me for being gone this past weekend. He is attached to me like superglue and wants to make sure that I will never, ever, ever, leave again for four days at a time.
Still not feelin' guilty for a girls' weekend out. Not gonna go there. I'm convinced it is perfectly healthy - for me, for the boys, and for my husband. Speaking of my husband, he is an angel for being such a good sport about it all.
I just wish my body would reenter the real world with me. It is TIRED. It needs four days to recover from the weekend. Someone has programmed the 'slow motion' button and it is STUCK.
That's okay - it's only ten days until vacation!
Not to mention, my 2 YO is punishing me for being gone this past weekend. He is attached to me like superglue and wants to make sure that I will never, ever, ever, leave again for four days at a time.
Still not feelin' guilty for a girls' weekend out. Not gonna go there. I'm convinced it is perfectly healthy - for me, for the boys, and for my husband. Speaking of my husband, he is an angel for being such a good sport about it all.
I just wish my body would reenter the real world with me. It is TIRED. It needs four days to recover from the weekend. Someone has programmed the 'slow motion' button and it is STUCK.
That's okay - it's only ten days until vacation!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Weekend Pics
Four very tired friends.
Our chef for the weekend.
Our chef letting his hair down.
My first geocaching experience (at the request of K's husband, who is a geocaching addict. He thought it would be cool to place a travel bug in Illinois). We couldn't find the cache .1 miles from M & V's house. So we jumped in the van and followed the GPS to cache #2.
Poison ivy anyone?
It's amazing what you'll do for someone you love.
After much searching, she still came up empty-handed.
Here we are creating the ever-famous 3 layer strawberry cake, which is quite a task for such an undomestic group of women. We would much rather be shopping, sitting in the hot tub, laying out in the pool, or just hanging out....all of which we did quite well during the weekend.
K & V enjoying the culture of Allerton Park.
R & L scoffing at the culture they were forced to endure.Thursday, July 10, 2008
I'm Outta Here!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Do you hear that?
That's the sound of my 5 year old vaccuuming. The entire house. Because he wants to.
Oh, I know this will be short lived. And I know he doesn't cover the area quite like I do.
But, bottom line is there has to be less dirt on the floor than there was two hours ago. And there are vaccuum marks that make the floors look really clean.
And I'm sitting on the computer instead of cleaning.
Do you see that?
That's me smiling.
That's the sound of my 5 year old vaccuuming. The entire house. Because he wants to.
Oh, I know this will be short lived. And I know he doesn't cover the area quite like I do.
But, bottom line is there has to be less dirt on the floor than there was two hours ago. And there are vaccuum marks that make the floors look really clean.
And I'm sitting on the computer instead of cleaning.
Do you see that?
That's me smiling.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
More of the Same
Summer is moving right along, and life is still relatively boring. Some days boring drives me crazy, but right now I am okay with it. It means in the last two weeks no one has been to the ER, no one has been sick, no schedules have been overwhelmingly busy, everyone is pretty happy, and I'm feeling fairly rested.
But boring means I have nothing to write about.
The most exciting thing in my weekend was the local city fireworks. This is a small town event. And when I say small, I mean REALLY small. Instead of hiring individuals trained in setting off big-time fireworks, they have the volunteer fire department do it. I guess they figure if they can't have the people trained in lighting fireworks, they can at least have the people trained in putting out the fires that may occur.
I typically love fireworks. I look forward to the 4th every year -- until now. I learned this weekend that the big fireworks show loses all its glory when my own husband is shooting them off. Five minutes in, they had one explode right on the ground. I felt like my heart stopped beating for an eternity, and I had to force myself to stay in my seat. The show continued, which I knew was a good sign, and the ambulance stayed put. Deep breath.
About ten minutes later I saw several dark forms sprinting toward the fire trucks. Sure enough, two trucks headed out with lights and sirens. There's another reason not to have the firefighters light the fireworks - they are needed when people who are not at the show start fires with their own fireworks. So then I wonder, "Is my husband now out on a call? Or is he stuck here trying to run the entire show with half a crew?" Oh, so relaxing.
The show finally came to an end, and then I notice a fire burning on the ground where they had been launching fireworks. Again, I see dark shadows of people all quickly backing away from the fireworks that are on fire, truck lights soon appear out of nowhere, and the fire disappears almost instantly.
Finally. It's over. Happy Independence Day, America. You just took ten years off my life.
Like I said, boring is good.
But boring means I have nothing to write about.
The most exciting thing in my weekend was the local city fireworks. This is a small town event. And when I say small, I mean REALLY small. Instead of hiring individuals trained in setting off big-time fireworks, they have the volunteer fire department do it. I guess they figure if they can't have the people trained in lighting fireworks, they can at least have the people trained in putting out the fires that may occur.
I typically love fireworks. I look forward to the 4th every year -- until now. I learned this weekend that the big fireworks show loses all its glory when my own husband is shooting them off. Five minutes in, they had one explode right on the ground. I felt like my heart stopped beating for an eternity, and I had to force myself to stay in my seat. The show continued, which I knew was a good sign, and the ambulance stayed put. Deep breath.
About ten minutes later I saw several dark forms sprinting toward the fire trucks. Sure enough, two trucks headed out with lights and sirens. There's another reason not to have the firefighters light the fireworks - they are needed when people who are not at the show start fires with their own fireworks. So then I wonder, "Is my husband now out on a call? Or is he stuck here trying to run the entire show with half a crew?" Oh, so relaxing.
The show finally came to an end, and then I notice a fire burning on the ground where they had been launching fireworks. Again, I see dark shadows of people all quickly backing away from the fireworks that are on fire, truck lights soon appear out of nowhere, and the fire disappears almost instantly.
Finally. It's over. Happy Independence Day, America. You just took ten years off my life.
Like I said, boring is good.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Every Woman's Dream
I remember dreaming about what my grown up life would be like. The perfect man, the perfect kids, the perfect job, the perfect house in the perfect location. For some reason I don't remember this scene being part of it.
But I'm sure every woman must at some point dream about her husband and his father dragging pitchforks of fire through the wheat field that is the "yard", while the children stand at the front window watching them and shouting at the top of their lungs, "You gonna burn, daddy? You burnin', daddy? Are you gonna catch on fire??"
But I'm sure every woman must at some point dream about her husband and his father dragging pitchforks of fire through the wheat field that is the "yard", while the children stand at the front window watching them and shouting at the top of their lungs, "You gonna burn, daddy? You burnin', daddy? Are you gonna catch on fire??"
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