Wasted Saturday

I just got done spending about 7 hours of my Saturday writing two papers that are due this weekend. The first was a group paper that I, the "coordinator," had to edit and compile. (This was a nightmare in its own right, mainly because to "coordinate" a group paper is really to rewrite it.) The second was an individual paper, which I actually enjoyed writing (wait, did I seriously just say that?) but it took forever because I am a perfectionist when it comes to my homework. (Just ask Craig. He'll tell you how mad I get when I receive a score of 91% on a paper. Stinkin' college professors. What do they know anyway?) (Except you, Laura.)

During the course of this long and arduous day, I realized a few things:

1) Craig is a saint. He took the girls to the zoo so that I could actually work (and think) in peace. (I am also a perfectionist when it comes to picking a spouse, in case you were wondering.) (Also, I already knew he was a saint.)

2) I eat like a maniac when I write a paper, especially if I am nervous because I don't know exactly how to convey my thoughts...which is often. One entire bag of popcorn, half a bag of chili lime sunflower seeds and a large Cherry Limeade later, I am a poster mommy for not snacking while studying.

3) My right hands gets mysteriously cold while I am typing. This would make sense if I typed with only my right hand and sat on my left hand. Which I don't.

4) I do much better work in my pajamas. I think this has to do with the elastic waistband. (See realization #2.)

5) I hate doing homework on a Saturday. (Oh wait, I already knew that, too.)

Now I'm off to fry my brain for what's left of the day. All this being smart makes me grouchy.

When Mommy Goes AWOL

I've realized, over the past couple weeks of feeling-horrible and fighting (a losing battle against) a nasty cold, cough, sore throat, etc., that I might as well not be here when I'm sick. (I know. If only that were an actual option, right?)

To be sick is to be relatively invisible. Oh, I've been here, all right, plopped down on the couch in comfy (read: ugly) pajamas, armed with tissues, cough drops, humidifiers and the like...but really, when I'm that sick, it's almost as if Mommy As We Know It falls off the face of the earth for quite a few days.

Some signs: 

-dinner (if you can call it that) in front of the tv almost every night.

-giant playroom mess left unattended for days and days (and days...)

-giant messes in virtually every other room in the house left unattended for days (and days...)

-a perpetual sink full of dirty dishes (whilst clean dishes inside the dishwasher remained untouched)

-floors stickier than hard candy

-a Christmas tree left up until halfway through January

-letting the kids watch unprecedented amounts of television

-groceries unbought, meals unmade...

 -etc, etc.

all accompanied by

-a feeling of apathy about it all.

Craig was a hero and stayed home/worked from home for most of last week. He is wonderful. He is dedicated. He is loving. He is patient and gentle. He serves without complaint. But he is not Mommy. (Which means that none of the things on that list happen to bother him.)

Some things I learned:

-to lose your voice when your kids already barely listen to you is torturous.

-Savanna thinks that whispering is called "secreting."

-my kids will never tire from cereal for dinner, or Scooby-Doo episodes

-an asthma inhaler is a solid friend during a miserable cold.

I hope I am over the worst of it. And, as soon as I finish the book I'm reading, I plan on tackling the mountain of mommy-tasks that await.

What To Do When Your Hand Gets Tired

After two long weeks away from school and all of the grueling writing exercises that that entails, Julia's poor finger was feeling pretty exhausted on its first day back to work.

So, we did what any good parents would do: we put him straight to bed.

See how happy he is?

A Realization

I've recently discovered why I don't like to quit while I'm ahead:

I'm never ahead.

Gem from the Past

While spending time today going through old emails and eliminating some things I no longer needed, I found a folder entitled "journal," which I had apparently created in an effort to maintain, for posterity, all of the funny happenings of my children. I guess I didn't get very far with that, because I only found one entry, dated some time in August of 2007. (This would make Julia just over two years old.) But oh, what an entry it is. 

“A lot of times when we're in the car together, I point different things out to J to keep her occupied...balloons, airplanes, buses, whatever. She's started pointing things out to me, too. The other day in the car on the way to a doctor appointment, she pointed towards the windshield and said, 'Look, mommy!' I turned to see where she was pointing, then turned back around to look. 'What do you see? That bus?' 'No, Mommy, look!' Again, I turned around to see where she was pointing, and it was still towards the front of the car. I turned back around again looking for what she was pointing at. 'What is it, baby? That tree? An airplane?' 'LOOK!" she insisted. I still couldn't guess what she was talking about and said, 'I'm sorry, honey, I don't see what you're pointing at.'

'Look...a booger!'

Right in the tip of the finger I thought she was pointing with."

Posterity is so luck I documented that one.