M 2, Pants 0

Okay, maybe the score isn't completely accurate.  M has been in school for 19 days.  One day she wore pajama bottoms (even I didn't realize it until she got home.  Her defense is that she took them from her pants pile in the closet, so it was oviously my fault for putting her pajama bottoms in the wrong place.  No big deal, they weren't see through, or covered in bunnies), 17 days (including the pajama day) she has returned with her pants covered in so much dirt and crud that you'd think she'd been playing rugby in the rain. 

 

And on the other two days? you ask.  Holes, big holes, okay half-dollar size holes in her knit pant/leggings.  Holes, as in mulitple holes.

 

Can you guess what my first question is going to be at tonight's open house?

Define

goggleators*

 

As in, "Do we have any goggleators so I can see the bird's nest in that tree better?"

 

*J's word

Why is it . . .

. . . that the child who doesn't so much as flinch when she has blood drawn or gets a shot, screams when I brush her hair?

 

 

Wash, Dry, Fold . . . . Repeat

Why is it that laundry multiplies faster than rabbits? In my house we* don't consider the laundry to be complete, unless we can get it all (usually 4 or 5 loads) folded before enough new laundry has accumulated to make a new load (what I call a college load - everything goes in regardless of color).  If enough new laundry accumulates during the laundry process then the deadline resets and we try to finish before enough new  laundry accumulates.  Generally it takes a day to do all of the laundry and if we can get it done before the kids change into jammies for the night, we win.  If not, we lose, because 5 kids changing into jammies creates enough dirty clothes to make a new load (and it is pretty much a given that whatever they take of is dirty - it's nearly 100 degrees here, if you walk out side for even a moment you get sweaty and gross, ergo your clothes are dirty.)  And if we don't get done in one day and a load sits in the wash over night it will almost surely have to be rewashed (the Husband has a sensitive nose and will complain loudly if there is even a whiff of something not spring fresh).  And then there is the white load - the most hated load in the house.  All those socks to match and almost nothing that can go straight to hangers.  Unless we are in dire need of socks the white load is always the last load we wash because we would rather let it sit in the dryer and pull clean clothes from there as needed until it's time to put a new load in the dryer rather than fold it.

 

So anyway, I've explained all this just to complain that we have been unable to "finish" the laundry for nearly a week.  I keep finding clothes and starting a college load to try and get finished, but now it seems to have multiplied and there is enough to actually require sorting and officially starting the process over. 

 

 

* this is not a royal we, nor does it include the Husband. This we is largely comprised of my mother who lives with me and, truth be told does a significant amount of the cleaning and laundry, as well as covering child-care duties when I'm running one kid or another to appointments and such.

You Know It's Going to be a Long Day When . . .

you are offering the crabby two-year old who has been up since way too early chocolate for breakfast if she will just stop fussing long enough to eat it. 

 

Oh, oh and I remembered what I was going to tell y'all yesterday.

 

J, who started Pre-K this year is so confused.  He can't understand why he has to go to bed when it's morning (translated to mean still light outside) and get up when it's night (still dark).  Poor kid.  Doesn't make much sense to me either.  But it won't be long before it's dark way before it's time for bed and still dark when it's time to get up.

 

And, did you know that "y'all" get's through my spell checker?  Must be a Southerner.

Homework Might Kill Me

M's homework specifically - or really M's reluctance to complete her homework without complaining and whining and dragging it out.

 

C is to the point he realizes it's just easier to do it and be done with it.

 

E might frown and wimper at the thought of it, but she will sit and just do it.

 

M on the other hand will only do her work if I sit over her and prod and threaten her.

 

I should not have to take an extra prozac just to get through homework!

 

 

 

Oh, oh, oh, oh . . .

I was so going to tell y'all something, but now I forgot what it was, and it was really good, or at least it was cute, or maybe it was only funny in that you-had-to-be-there way, but I was really going to tell y'all something and now I can't remember what it was.

 

Promise I'll come back when, okay IF, I remember it.

 

Or come up with something better to tell you.

Really Good Chocolate

On a recent trip to Target, as I was waiting my turn to check out, I noticed a small chocolate bar made by Scharffen Berger, hardly bigger than a Hershey Snack Size. I was tempted, as I always am with chocolate, to take it home with me.

And then I saw the price. $1.79 for a 1 oz chocolate bar.

I was shocked! And then I wondered what was so special about this tiny chocolate bar that someone would pay that much for it.

I looked a little closer - it was Artisan chocolate. Well, okay, but that really just sounds like putting a fancy name on something and charging big bucks for it.

It's made with organic milk. Okay, I'll pay a little more for organic milk, but almost 2.5 times more?

I tried to resist, but curiosity got the better of me.

Did I get my money's worth? I'm not sure. The chocolate is divine - creamy and rich, just a little darker than most American milk chocolates, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. But would I buy it again? Probably not. I through enough money away on my chocolate habit. I don't need to double the damage, but for an occasional treat, I might splurge.

And that itty-bitty chocolate bar is so cute, how can I not take it home with me?

Working - But Just a Bit

So the Husband and I decided that we need more income and there were several ways to do that. The first being that he would get a second job. Not really our first choice since then I would have no backup and he'd never see the kids.

The next option would be that I continue do the small odd jobs I have been doing for most of the last year. Not a bad idea expect it's very little money for a good bit of work (not that I mind working, but when a job only pays $10 and it takes 3 hours to complete - you do the math.) So while I will probably continue to do those odd jobs, they won't really satisfy the income need.
Another option would have been to ramp up my photo business in hopes of making it more profitable. This is really my favorite option, but also the most costly (I really need some additional equipment, not to mention some kind of advertising, not that it has to be fancy, but something to get my name out there more, and that can be costly.) So again while I will continue to work on the portrait business (as well as the art fairs I started participating in this summer) it will not be my main focus, yet.

So all of this is the long way of saying that I have been seeking employment. I have applied several places (not fast food, I refuse to do fast food right now, we are not that desperate), even received one job offer (which would have really been a fab job in my field, but the hours were outrageous for someone who had hopes of still being able to put her kids on the bus and be there when they got home - and really is that too much to ask? I could totally be the person there before the high school kids got out, okay there might be a couple hours between when I'd need to leave and the high-schoolers could get there, but come on, there's bound to be some kid out of school early on work release - do they still do that?), but so far nothing has really fit the bill.
Until today, and while you might scoff, have you ever tried finding a job when the last entry on your resume is from over 10 years ago and the company has gone out of business, so there's no one to contact for a job reference, you can't remember your boss's name, much less how much you were being paid (and is that really relevant when it was 10 years ago anyway) or the exact dates of your employment? No? Not easy.

But I did find something and my work history or qualifications didn't even enter into the conversation. I think I was hired solely on the recommendation of a friend that works there and the company's recent loss of all the college kids that worked there over the summer. And I do know the general manager, but that did not come up either, but based on the person that recommended me for the position, they know I know the GM.

It's really pretty perfect, just enough to get my feet wet, a gentle transition from SAHM to WOHM, even if the WOHM is only one day a week.

And P will stay home with Nan on the day I work, leaving me with just the teeniest bit of mommy guilt. So yippee for me.

Bait and Switch

So way back in January, the adults in the house started on South Beach.  We only made it about 3 weeks before gradually dropping back into old habits. The one habit that stuck was using Splenda instead of sugar to make Kool-Aid.  This was especially easy because Splenda had introduced these new Quick Packs that are equal to a cup of sugar - perfect for Kool-Aid. (In an effort for full disclosure I must admit that I use three Quick Packs to two Kool-Aid packs).

So I was doing great until I ran out of Quick Packs and couldn't find them at the local store.  At first I believed they were just out and in a few days (on the next milk run), I'd be able to pick some up.

No.
I tried another store, again no luck.  I checked the Kool-Aid aisle instead of the sugar aisle.  Nope.
During this time, I've been using the little packets to make Kool-Aid.  I just couldn’t go back to using real sugar.
Today I ran out of little packets and had to use  . . . Sugar.  So I did the only thing left to me.
I ordered it online. 
What a world.

The Honeymoon is Over

On Monday the kids started school.  They were each up well before the appointed time, bouncy and already dressed. 
On Tuesday they were again up before I came to wake them.  They were not quite as bouncy, but J was thrilled to be riding the bus to school.

On Wednesday, they were awake, but still in bed when I came upstairs to assist with the morning rituals.
Thursday, they were not awake, but the quickly got out of bed when I turned on lights.
This morning was more like the scene in Freaky Friday (okay, not that bad, but it took some definite prodding to get the kids to give up their covers.)

And then when J got home from school, he said, "Today was my last day of school."  I hated to burst his little bubble, but I couldn't let him think he was done.  I gently informed him that he only had two days off and then would go back to school on Monday.  "Okay," was all he said.

One week down.  Now I remember why weekends are so good.

Day 2, Day 5 (or is it 6)

Today is my kids' second day of school.  Yes, I know we start early, but we also get out before the end of May. J loved his first day of Pre-K, although he was mosted excited about getting to ride the bus.  He didn't blink when I left, but it was all I could do not to shed a few tears.  He's so big, but still my baby, although I'm not allowed to call him that anymore.

M & E are enjoying the second grade and I am pleased with their teachers.  The first struggle of the year is transitioning to "real paper" from the stuff with the red/blue lines and the dotted center line (you know the stuff).  They used it all through first grade, so the change is a bit of a struggle.

C is in 5th grade - so far so good, but the home work hasn't started yet.  This is the last year that C will be in the same school as M & E until he's a senior and they are freshmen (and even then the high school here has a seperate ninth grade campus).

 

As for P -- she is on day 5 or 6 of living without a pacifier.  She was down to one last pacifier, and we explained that we weren't buying any new ones.  One day last week she couldn't find it when she woke up, so we knew it had to be in her room, but we didn't search very hard. She has gone from only taking the thing out of her mouth to eat to not having one at with very little trauma.  She occasionally asks for it, but it hasn't even been a problem at night.  I found this missing paci last night, and rather than throwing it away, I put it in my nightstand drawer -- the last paci, a final reminder of the time when my kids were babies.