The Week is Ending with a Bang...

Sunday

The start of this week was slightly stressful, despite the Father's Day celebration. We had Matt's parents over for breakfast sandwiches and then Matt went to church early to practice and I began the weekly torture of getting the two toddlers ready for church.

We were on the very first song of the service when Noah began to cry that he wants to go home. Which is very unusual, because home is usually the place he likes the least, considering I am always wrestling him into naptime.  Noah loves church because he gets to go to nursery, a land flowing with juice and baby puffs. I knew it was serious when he put down his cookie and laid his head on his arms and cried. He was becoming increasingly desperate to leave so I knew that either he wasn't feeling well or he had somehow found out the nursery was out of baby puffs. So in the middle of the service I took the toddlers home and left the older kids in the row, telling friends behind us to relay the message to Matt that he now had the responsibility to take Jack and Kate home.

Noah wanted to watch Frozen when we got home so I envisioned a snuggly-sweet morning with the little ones.

Ha.

Noah screamed and cried for about 20 minutes, until Elsa sang "Let It Go." Then he suddenly asked for a blanket and pillow and went to sleep.

Not long after he fell asleep, Tali realized that no one was crying. She started up suddenly, like an actor who's forgotten her lines. "What, it's me? Oh, right. WAAAAAHHHH!"

For the next 20 minutes, she rolled around on the homeschool floor crying. They say not to negotiate with terrorists but I was desperate, offering her cheerios, juice, snuggles, a Cadillac.

Towards the end of the tantrum, she began to fall asleep. Like a dog in a dream, she would close her eyes then continue to softly cry and slowly thrash about. Even in her sleep she wouldn't surrender.

Finally, peace.

You can see the sweat on her hairline. She gave it her all.

The rest of Father's Day was happy and fun, spending the day at my parents with my sisters and my in-laws.

Monday

Late last week I got my hair cut and highlighted. I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've paid for highlights (meaning myself and not my mom) and that's only because there was a Groupon for it. It's not that I don't feel like they're nice and lovely, it's that I don't care about my appearance that much. I just don't. This sounds funny, but I feel like it's not a big deal because I only see myself when I look in a mirror, and that's maybe 5 minutes out of the day to brush my teeth and such. The rest of the time, I don't think about how I look because I can't see it.

Anyway, I got my hair cut by a girl who was approximately 12. She was stylish but had the personality of a potato. It was exhausting, trying to keep the mood happy and light for that hour. She asked me the obligatory questions about family and jobs and stuff. At one point, she asked about the kids' schooling so I begrudgingly told her we homeschooled. Cue moment of awkward silence and then the horrified realization that I am one of those people. She then proceeded to tell me that she guesses it's alright as long as kids are able to get out and learn things and stuff. I thought about the fact that my 7 year old had been quietly sitting in the chair next to me, reading Calvin and Hobbes and asking polite questions of the hairdresser. I thought about the fact that this college-educated person had asked me the definition of at least four words I used, including 'amateur.' 

But I just nodded my freshly highlighted head and said "Yes, they should be adequately socialized and educated, you are quite right."

Then she told me how to recreate this look with a round brush. 

Absolutely I have one (the toddlers take turns beating each other with it).

I tried to go as long as possible without washing my hair because man, I looked good. All coiffed and trendy and whatnot. But that's the problem with hairdresser-styled do's. It's just not a skill set I have.

You leave the salon looking like this:

This was the actual picture I showed the stylist.

And the next time you wash and dry your hair, you end up looking like this:

I tried the round brush but it just keep getting stuck in my hair. Katie, who had been getting happily used to a prettier, sleeker mommy expressed alarm - "What happened to your hair? Why is it all puffy?"

Well, it went back to normal. 

She tried to smooth out my hair with her hands, which is like pouring a dixie cup of water on a raging wildfire. Nothing tames these magnificent tresses of puff.

Wednesday

I had been smelling urine near the hallway for a couple days. At one point I thought "Shoot, the cat peed somewhere." Then I realized we don't have a cat and became more alarmed than irritated. What was it, a diaper, a pee-soaked blanket? Then the other night I went to give the littles a bath and grabbed the cup I used to rinse off the window sill in the tub. It's full and sloshing. It smelled so much of ammonia that I was concerned a child had somehow gotten into a container of hair dye. 

One of my children, who shall not be named but is known for doing ridiculously awful things in the name of science, confessed that he filled the cup and left it just to see what would happen. Turns out, if he leaves a cup of pee out for days, his parents will discipline him mightily. 

I met my mom that night for my annual birthday shopping. It's really the most wonderful time of the year. We eat, we shop, we are fabulous for that night. It's a couple weeks early but I wanted to get new clothes for Matt's company's annual retreat next weekend. I want to show up those other women because that's just the way I am. 

Is there anything more depressing than trying on clothes? The bright fluorescent lighting, the endless mirrors. They should dim the lights and softly play "You Look Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton overhead. Women will be like "Dang, I look good - break out the Mastercard, we're buying all the clothes!"

My mom had bought me a Brighton charm bracelet for mother's day so we picked out a few charms that night.

Afterward at dinner, I was admiring my bracelet.

"Doesn't this make my wrist look so fancy?" I asked as I reached out to dip a fried onion petal in the mayonnaise sauce.

Thursday

On the way home from swim practice tonight, we were heading home on a four lane divided road when a car pulled out in front of me. I tried to swerve left and stop but it was obvious she didn't see me because she wasn't slowing down. She hit the front right part of our van. Luckily, no one seemed to be hurt and we weren't going too fast.

It was quite jarring but not too bad as far as accidents go. I got out and walked to the other car. The lady stepped out and was so sweet and shaken and worried. I told her not to worry, we're ok and accidents happen sometimes. Then Jack stuck his head out the window and yelled "You've got crying over here!" When the woman found out there were kids in the car, she became really upset. I've been in accidents when others have gone ballistic over their car being hit and it certainly doesn't help when you already feel awful about it. Thankfully, Matt works on the same road and was in an appointment with a client. A random citizen pulled over to ask if we need help so I sent him to Matt's office to have him come over. Honestly, having kids in the car makes accidents so much worse. My hands were shaking a little and so were Matt's. Kate was crying, asking if we were going to sleep in a hotel, as if this accident somehow compromised our house as well. Noah started crying about our house. Good gravy, you guys, pull it together!

So that was our Thursday.  Jack came straight home and drew a picture of the accident. Kate sat down and wrote a letter to Matt's brother about the crash. It was all a bit like therapy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Pringles to attend to...

Mama's Back, Jack

Matt's been out of town for a few days on a business trip. Earlier this week, I dropped the kids off at my mom's house so I could have a couple fun-filled days to myself.

I'm kidding, of course.

The leadership class I'm taking for my BSN degree requires clinical hours so my classmates and I helped out with my college's summer camp for middle schoolers. In theory, it was for kids interested in health careers. In reality, most of the kids were there because their moms made them sign up. And, as we all know, nothing is more fun than entertaining kids who don't want to be there. If being a youth group leader taught me anything, it was that.

At first I was so excited about the whole thing because I was going to have Monday night all by myself at the house. I could go dancing or buy antiques or do a 5k through some sort of interesting material (mud, food coloring, perfume, floam...). The sky was the limit.

I don't know why I get my hopes up about these things.

In the end, I cleaned a little and did homework. Woohoo, indeed. I had dinner at my in-laws, which was also novel, being there by myself. Matt's dad suggested some background noise of children screaming and discipline being meted out. You know, just to make it feel more normal.

The few days leading up to it I waffled about pigging out on some fantastic food. After all, being able to eat whatever you want is honestly one of the few great things about being an adult. Well, that and finally growing into your adult teeth. That's always a relief, not to be forever stuck with teeth too big for your head.

Monday's dessert was steamed edamame and red wine. As it turns out, I'm pretty boring by myself.

When I got home from college on Tuesday, my mom and the kids were there. The little ones were happy to see me. Pretty soon, though, the cold, hard, reality of mom being home set in for an unsuspecting Noah. At one point, I held him in my lap after a few screaming fits (him externally, me internally). He rubbed his eyes with his chubby little hand and told me "Mama, I want you to go to work. I want you to go to school."

The fact that my mom brought with her foods with an approximate sugar content of the country of Brazil had nothing to do with it, I'm sure.

Today was a little rough, considering the transition my kids made from a grandparent wonderland filled with movies and Fruit Loops back to a house of schoolwork and child labor. Jack told me he needed about 5 minutes to just rest and remember certain things that he had already forgotten in his 3 day absence, things like unloading the dishwasher and checking to see if the lid was on the carton of milk before carrying it sideways to the fridge (hint: it was not).

Later on in the afternoon, a delivery guy showed up with a package from Amazon (seeing those boxes makes my heart go pitter-pat). I saw him pull up and met him in the driveway, Talitha on my hip. The guy said immediately, "Wow, she is adorable."

Yup, I know.

Then after a minute of small talk and the handing off of the package, he said "Really, she is so cute. How can you stand it?"

Well, to be honest, I'm flipping out right now. I'm just really good at hiding it.

Then he said "Bye, sweetheart."

And I said goodbye back, pretty much at the same time I realized he was talking to Tali. This is going to be tough, as I am used to being the adorable one. Transitions.

Random Ramblings

Adults Not Needed

The other day while I was working, Matt and the kids watched Honey, We Shrunk Ourselves. Matt told me that he asked the older two what they would do if Mom and Dad weren't at home for a weekend.

Kate: I would probably clean a bit. And eat healthy food. Well, a little sugary food but not much. Not like those kids (in the movie) were eating."

Jack: I would do a little less homeschooling than usual."

So basically their adult-free weekend would consist of cleaning and some light schoolwork.


Ol' Curly Toe

A couple months ago, I was playing This Little Piggy with Tali and I noticed one of her toes bent under another toe. Here, I'll just show you the picture because I'm sure you're confused (not you specifically, the rest of the readers. You are a shining example of intelligence and wit. Not like the rest of them - you know who I mean):

So today I took her to a pediatric orthopedic clinic to have it checked. Apparently it's congenital thing where the tendon is too short. They might cut it in a quick, 10 minute surgery next year. Or some other time. Orthopedics are a fairly blase group of people when it comes to curly toes.

The doctor and her assistant walked into the room and stop.

Dr: "Oh my gosh, isn't she the cutest thing in the world?"
Asst: "Yes, she is. So cute!"

Me: "Ladies, please. You're embarrassing me. I don't even have makeup on or anything. Stop."

They then proceeded to grill me on her history.

Dr:. "Family history of blah, blah, blah?"

I shrug.

Dr: "How long has her toe been like this?"

I shrug more emphatically.

Dr: "She's so little. Was she premature?"

Me: "Listen, I'm going to stop you right there. All of my answers to those types of questions will be a shrug."

In other news, she's still holding steady at about 20 lbs - my fiesty, little, curly toed girl.


Purple Haze

Just when you think you've gotten through one embarrassing stage of parenting, another one rears its humiliating head. Noah is often without his underwear, either from getting damp or becoming misplaced. Thankfully, Kate's little tushie is about the same size as Noah's shapely one. So more often than not, he is sporting a pair of hers. I don't think about it much. Well, I didn't until yesterday.

We were at small group, all of us adults sitting in the living room while the kids were off playing and watching movies and poking each other with sticks. Noah came into the living room holding his underwear and shorts, having recently visited the bathroom. A hush fell over the room as he waved his purple girl panties towards me. So I felt I had to explain the situation. Much as I had to a year or two ago, when the last pacifiers in the store were pink and purple and we proudly used those until, inevitably, they were lost. Noah? He's just keeping it real.