Run your hands through your hair if you’ve just lotioned them with coconut oil.
Guess I better fix this before the Bulls game tonight…
I have a new love and its name is kombucha. It's a fermented beverage, dating back thousands of years. Yes, it kinda tastes like easter egg dye, but it's fizzy and delicious at the same time. And it's full of probiotics and helps right all the wrongs in your GI tract if yours is like mine (i.e.; not moving). I've drank it on and off for years, but recently got serious about drinking it routinely to see if it could help me feel better.
It’s officially sprummer and I am so excited! You know the season where one day you’re excited because you can wear a short sleeved shirt, but you have to settle for pants, the next day your fishing a heavy sweater out of the tupperware tote bin you thought you wouldn’t have to lay eyes on until next winter? And then SURPRISE! Just when you didn’t bother to shave your legs, the next day it’s 95*F outside! So you sweat in your jeans, or wear really low capris and sit with your ankles crossed and hope no one looks down.
I’ve gotten some cool and inexpensive things this spring to liven up my post-maternity wardrobe (yeah, she’s turning two and we’re not having anymore so it’s about time). I got a green 3/4-length sweater set from Ann Taylor, a bunch of tee-shirts from Target (love! But if you buy one with writing on it, go UP a size, they are not stretchy!), some shorts from Target, two pair of Lucky Brand sandals (Milan 2 – canvas and canvas/blue stripe – LOVE the latter), and a new whitish/creamish purse and some scarves to mix in with older pieces so they look newer. I think that’s it. Part of that was for Mother’s day, part was my “Teacher of the Year” award. *snicker*
I think the pollen is finally gone. Why did I type that? It’s like an automatic electronic groundhog burrowing in and cursing us with six more weeks of pollen. Maybe I should erase that.
So many things have happened since I last blogged I’m not sure where to start. Not huge things, just tiny little things that are hilarious, that I should record daily HERE instead of Facebook, where they’re lost forever. Lots of funny quotes from the kids, silly acts I’ve caught them committing, that sort of thing.
They’re all bursting with excitement because Grandma is coming up today to spend today through Wednesday or (I suspect) Thursday with us. I’m going to the Classical Conversations praciticum in Durham from Monday through Wednesday (so if you read this and I’ve never met you and you are going to be there – please introduce yourself!!! I’ll be the one that looks like me!) I’m only staying half a day. It says the second half is about Challenge and Henry is only going to be seven this summer. We may all be dead before he hits Challenge and he’ll be the first so…yeah. I’d rather spend the afternoon with my mom. When I say “we” might all be dead I mean all of us, not my mom. I realize that sounded bad; Jesus could be here within that time frame, you know? Not trying to kill you off. Or a plane could land on our house. We could be stampeded by buffalo as we drive down I-85. I could kill us with my cooking some day, I am always afraid of undercooking pork, that’s why our chops usually feel like cutting into frisbees.
I’ve gone to several CC meetings recently and met a lot of nice new ladies who will be joining us next year. I’m going to end this entry now so I can type up a new entry on what curriculums I’m using next year (and a bit about the practicum) in hopes it might help – or overwhelm, hopefully not! – and encourage and get them excited about next year’s homeschooling adventure!
NOTE: I fell directly asleep after I wrote this. And I wrote it at 6 am so if you read it’s first incarnation, it was full of errors! Fixed now.
Well, some stuff stuck I am glad to say! We are reviewing Cycle 3 of Classical Conversations and Henry remembered the history sentence about the Mayflower Compact and the cute little boat hand sign his tutor, Mrs. Lori taught them. I LOVE the boat hand sign, I cannot express how much I love that silly boat. I used to make him do this over and over just to see his little fingers do the boat. This may be why he remembers it…hmm…
I’m going to buy paper towels and toilet paper and give the kids the boxes.
Most. Awesome. Parents. Ever.
My precious dolly is taking after her brothers in a big way. We’re having a nice Sunday breakfast and suddenly a large “TOOT!” escapes from under the table. It comes from Sarah’s chair. She immediately beams with pride and says,
Really? We need some tea cups, stat.
Our little orchestra has been practicing and here are the fruits of our labors:
Today was week 23 of the program and there was a sense of urgency in the air, to spend time with those you will miss, to talk to those you haven’t seen much, to find the elusive tissue in your purse and avoid the dreaded pollen that was killing half the group. We had a great time. I can’t believe next week is our final week – then on to Cycle TWO!
It’s still there, great advice from friends still there too, it’s just been moved to private. I give my (oh this sounds so stupid) “nonbusiness-business card” with my email and blog address to a lot of people and I am not sure I want the first thing they see to be a mini-mental breakdown. I want them to think I’m entertaining. Well, maybe I should have left it up, because I got twice as much traffic that day than I normally do. Lookey-loos! Revel in my pain! I am a one-woman car accident. Look! There’s a bloody arm!
I’m just tired. I want to lay around in my pajamas with my feet in a bucket of cold water. That sounds weird but it always seems comforting to me. Sometimes I like to put my hands in a sink of cold water, I might do that in a minute. It’s like swimming, without the possibility of drowning.
Or maybe I’ll just take a shower and turn the water on cold. If you’re my neighbor and you hear the scream, you know I turned the water to cold.
“I hate eggs!”
“Well eggs hate you!”
“I hate my underwear!”
“Well your underwear hates you!”
Not really, but that conversation almost happened. One night this week Rhys was being beyond belligerent and refused to put on his underwear. He was rolling all around the bed – totally naked – showing me and my mom EVERYTHING he has, things I really, really have no desire to see. Positions no one should freeze in, especially when accompanied by screams and grunts.
In order to make this Circ du Sorevolting end, I tried some humor on him. I asked, “Do you want me to put your underwear on?” leaving the understood “…you?” off. He knew what I meant - do you want me to dress you? – and he screamed “NO!!”
I said, “I’m going to put it on for you, okay?”
Closer I crept to the bed with his red doggie underwear in my hand. I sat down in the chair beside his bed and proceeded to put his underwear on. He did not object, which was good, we were making progress. Well, not really.
I couldn’t really get them up past my shins. When he looked over and saw that I literally meant, “I’m putting on your underwear,” he started laughing and tried to get the underwear off. I let him have it and he got dressed.
Now, am I going to have to start putting on size 5T pants in order to motivate him to get going on Sunday mornings? I think not.