1st graders are BUSY PEOPLE. Let me just tell you about the pile of papers that has accumulated in my kitchen. Every day, I pull a stack out of Alyza's backpack that is the size of Mt. Washington, I kid you not.
Every so often, as time allows, I rummage through the pile, seeing what she is learning, and how she is doing. The other day, I discovered that Alyza has been learning about spiders.
I had to pause for a moment, when I saw the following worksheet...
I thought it rather interesting that although the instructions clearly say to draw just a spider in the box, she also included a person screaming, so I asked her about it.
Bodies are sore, spirits are good (despite short tempers, and stress-zits the size of Mt. Vesuvius), and there are a couple loose ends to tie-up (ie: cats that need temporary relocation.) But this 3-phase merger is one-third of the way complete, which really only means I am one-third of the way closer to sipping a glass of wine with my feet kicked up on my new sofa.
When I saw this picture earlier today, I laughed so hard I cried.
At first, I giggled at the image of Jeff driving down the street in this truck. Because, let's face it, a grown man towing a robotic pony - that's pretty funny. But it's when you start to think about the innocent bystander who will witness this debacle pass him by, well that's when it really starts to be funny. Because you know he's going to stop in his tracks, do a double-take, and try to make sense of the situation.
And no matter how hard he tries, unless he's got a 6-year-old daughter at home, it will just never make sense.
The most uncooperative photograph subject to ever exist.
Just wanted a couple shots to document the busted arm...
What he lacks in photogenic qualities, he makes up for with his spirit - that is for sure. This boy has not ONCE complained about this heavy, clunky cast or the pain of the broken arm within it. Amazed by him, I am. Yoda, I am not.
In other news... My house is a disgusting display of complete disarray. (No, I am not Dr. Seuss either.) I'm trying very hard to hold it together. But chaos, and piles, and boxes, and empty walls, and not knowing where any of my stuff is = SHORT TEMPER AND TWITCHY.
Alyza announced to me that she was going to help me pack, and later I noticed this addition to the pile...
We may not know where our toothbrushes are... But winter boots and backscratchers?? CHECK!!
So I made it pretty close to completing all 10 of the challenges during Mojo Rehab, but didn't QUITE get there... A for effort, but I still want to finish the last 2 photography challenges... Stay tuned for that...
In the mean time... check out the mess my kids created while I was in the shower today.
Single parenting is a pain in the arse when you need to shower or pee. Seriously... it is amazing what two little people can get into while there is no one watching them for 5-whole-minutes. Do you notice that Keegan has an emery board!! (WHAT THE HECK!! WHERE DID HE FIND THAT?!) Every weekend that they are with me, I need to plan at least a half hour of clean up time for post-shower... Argh.
Anyway. We need to get back to some regular posting around here... While I did find my mojo (you may commence rejoicing) I do still have some drama in my life that is causing my focus to be less-than-productive. Life is hard. Love is harder. I will figure it out, but right now................. Boooo!
Today's highlight was Alyza asking if we could go to Chuck-E-Cheez-Its sometime soon. Good GOD, I love that kid.
I've been wanting to run lately. In fact, I am thinking about trying to get my butt in good enough shape to run a few 5k's this summer with some friends. I decided to get back into running for a variety of reasons, but mostly because legs are a lot harder to steal than a new bike would be. And because if someone tried to cut off my legs in the middle of the night, I could kick them in the face. Ninja style.
So yes... I've been wanting to run, and get back into the shape I was in a couple years ago, and lets just say that losing 10lbs wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to me... But, not gonna lie... Finding the motivation to run has been hard. My schedule with both jobs, and the kids does not allow me much free-time during hours of daylight, and running through the park and back streets of the city at night does not really appeal to my paranoia. I have every desire and intention go to running in the mornings (before work)... But my hand finds the snooze button WAY faster than my brain could ever move me into a vertical position at that time of day.
I'm finding my way to that motivated state-of-mind. Slowly, but surely. The warmer it gets outside, the more my parts thaw out and want to be used. Sometimes all it really takes is a couple of sweet, adoring, PAINFULLY HONEST, children to give me the wake up call I so desperately need, and this morning, that is exactly what I got.
I am the first to admit that I take ridiculously long showers. In fact, I usually base being "done" on whether or not I am out of hot water. Being in the shower is my quiet time. My thinking time. My leave-a-message-after-the-beep time. My "Calgon, take me away" time. You get the point.
This morning, I was joined in the bathroom by two noisy children who were bored with Handy Manny, and instead decided to come upstairs and terrorize their Mother. Though I could not see them from behind the shower curtain, I could hear them pushing and kicking each other. Keegan shouting "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" at Alyza, and Alyza screeching "KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGANNNNNNNNNN" in a voice that is several octaves higher than your average soprano.
(Dear Calgon. Please consider packaging your body wash with ear-plugs. Love, Steph)
I turned my face into the water as I rinsed my hair, and noticed that it got particularly quiet in the bathroom. A few moments later, a very serious little girl began her confession...
"Mommy?"
"What, Love?"
"Keegan and I peeked behind the curtain............ But it's ok Mommy, we still love you."
Before I could respond, I heard the door to the bathroom close with the tiniest of "clicks" and two sets of very quiet feet descending back down to the living-room, as if any further disruption or sudden movements could have caused the shower-beast to react violently. And I wondered silently to myself how many more years of therapy I just tacked on to their futures...
I don't talk about them often, but at our house we have two pet kitties, who (though I love them very much) are sometimes the primary reason for my mental instability. That is to say that while 90% of the time they provide me with entertainment and companionship, the other 10% they make me want to shoot death-rays from my eyeballs.
Since moving to our new house in the fall, they've begun an attack on my livingroom furniture so violent that it has forced me to take action. Mostly because I am quite tired of seeing the innards of my sofa strewn about the floor each morning, and at this point, I'm not even sure I can repair the damage that has been done. Yes, I have a scratching post. Yes, I have tried the sprays and the plastic protectors. Nothing works. They are simply too smart.
Because I do not believe in declawing, I decided to give it another go with the softclaws. Surprisingly enough, the cats tolerate the application of the rubber claws pretty well. Only one of the cats growled through the whole process and tried, only once, to slice out my intestines. I consider that a success.
Simon is my problem child. He is the most lovable cat you will ever meet, but he is about as smart as a pile of bricks in a junkyard. As soon as I get the claws on him, he rips them right off before the glue has a chance to set. And so, in my efforts to put a stop to the Great Sofa Massacre, I have recently purchased a pet cone.
Oh yes. A big ole CONE to put around my cats head while the glue on his rubber claws dries. And they even come in pretty colors. We got a green one.
I have to admit. I was so angry at this cat that watching him walk around backwards for an hour with the green cone around his neck felt somewhat like a small victory in my twisted little mind. He was all over the place, walking into walls and doorways, and finally just laid down on the rug in the dining room and gave up on his quest to back his way out of this situation he was suddenly in. I also have to admit that after watching him clunk-clunk-clunk himself over to his water dish, I finally gave in and took the cone off.
But, I will win this battle. Of that you can be sure.
There's really not much hope for someone like me who is not only mostly brain-dead, but also forgetful! It's a bad combination, and sometimes it lands me in precarious positions. For example, often times because I have already forgotten something several times, I am forced to write reminder notes on the only thing I can not forget to take with me... myself.
Today it was a pair of snow-pants that I promised a friend/co-worker she could borrow for her hot date on the ski-slopes, and then forgot to deliver. Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!
Later in the day, I thought it might be funny to send the above picture (via cell phone) to my very tattooed friend, Bird. You remember him, right? So I sent it along without a single word of explanation.
Did he write back asking why I had tattooed the word SNOWPANTS on my hand, you ask?? Did he need clarification?? Did he need me to explain?? No, sir. Instead, a few moments later, my phone buzzed and I was graced with the following:
And as far as I was concerned... That was all that really needed to be said, and I probably laughed way more than was actually necessary!
Stay tuned for Steph & Jeff's NYC Adventure!!
Oh, and PS - I did finally remember the snow-pants.
Several weeks ago, during a snow storm, I came to an abrupt stop at a red-light and because I had been lazy - and perhaps somewhat careless - in my snow removal process, my winshield was suddenly covered in what can only be described as a small avalanche. Without a second thought, I did what any female-who-knows-nothing-about-cars would do.
I flipped on the wipers.
After watching the sad little wipers desperately try to lift Antarctica off my winshield, I came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn't my best decision ever. This conclusion was only made more complete by the sound of a loud pop, followed swiftly by the cessation of any/all wiping.
What's funny about the breaking of the wipers is that almost immediately, I knew that I could fix it. I'm pretty sure I even told Jeff I could fix it before even telling him what had happened. He was skeptical, as were several other people that I told. Encouraging me to take the car to the mechanic instead.
But I was brave, just as I have been in the past. I knew it could be done, and that I could be the one to do it. Even when being told I needed a tool I did not have (and can not - for the life of me - remember the name of at the moment), I perservered. I hit only one road block during which I had to call in the big guns to help loosen some extra tight nuts... A phrase never realized I was dying to use until just now...
Moral of the story is... Never let a tool and some tight nuts stop you from achieving your dreams.
(Special thanks to Steff, Rich, and Brad for their parts in this adventure as well.)
Also, yes I am wearing surgical gloves in the above video. Must protect manicure at all costs... Obviously.
Keegan has been seeing a private speech therapist, multiple times each week, for almost two months now. The most convenient thing about this is that the new therapist has an office that literally abuts with mine. So, you could say that we are abutters, which is a word that Jeff uses frequently when telling me about his work. Itthat has always secretly made me jealous. Now, I can use it too. Bonus.
Typically, Steve will leave work, pick up the kids, and deliver them to me at the hospital. And while Keegan goes in for his session, Alyza and I will wander around the hospital for an hour. We make regular stops at the giftshop, and the cafeteria to check out the fish tanks. But last week, during our hallway travels, we found ourselves wandering by an old-school water bubbler...
"Mommy? I'm thirsty." She said.
"Well let's go get you a drink then!" I suggested, motioning to the nearby cafeteria.
"No, Mommy... Can I just have some of this water?" she asked as she pointed at the bubbler. "I know how to use these, we have them at school."
"Well, sure... Go ahead."
She made her way over to the bubbler, as sure of herself as ever, as I trailed behind. She turned the knob, and water bubbled out of the little faucet. With a delighted look on her sweet little face, Miss Alyza bent down towards the water...
(What happened next can only be explained correctly if you imagine it in slo-mo.)
It may have only been .0003 of a second, but it felt like an eternity before my brain allowed my mouth to accurately respond to what my eyes were seeing. I reacted calmly and quickly as I showed her the correct way to use the bubbler, all-the-while trying to hush the voices in my head that were rocking (in the fetal position) and shouting: "OHMYGOD!!! JUST SQUIRT THE PURELL INTO HER MOUTH!!! RIGHT NOW!!!"
And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't actually consider it.
