Clark Griswold and Forgiveness

The girl is growing up. My friend texted me this picture this morning from car line and it seriously left me dumbfounded. She's not a baby!

She may not be a baby any more but the trouble she gets herself into is going to buy her time at the juvenile detention center!

Things I'm thankful for -

1. A sense of humor
2. A comfy bed that's big enough for everyone to pile into
3. A family of teammates that will take tread marks on their own backs in order to pull you out from under the bus
4. Sharp crayons to get the detail work done
5. Facing the Giants
6. A bank account that seems to be a bit like the five loaves of bread and two fish. Just when I think it's not gonna happen, a miracle occurs.
7. Discernment despite my lack of wisdom
8. Grace

 What a day it's been. Remember that scene from Holiday Vacation where Clark keeps dreaming about the new pool (never mind the bikini clad boobalicious mermaid in the pool)? I keep having daydreams about sitting on a beach with a book and being completely off-duty for a while. Alas, I'm stuck with the Jelly of the Month club.

Anyway, I'll share just one of the many stories that I've logged in the "Parenting for Dummies" book this week.

Annie has learned that she can control situations with her tongue. I call it lying. She calls it accidentally forgetting. Slight logistics issue.

She called me into the bathroom this afternoon for canyon clean-up. When I opened the door (she now closes the door so folks don't see her "privacy" or so she's not "appropriate"), a new roll of TP had been unrolled on the floor. Not just a few spins of the roll. Nope. Almost the entire roll. She giggled at the look on my face. (She hasn't logged the "I'm way too tired for this" look yet to understand that I was on the edge of a SNAP)! I asked her how the TP ended up on the floor and her answer was, "I don't know!" Ugh. Let the inquisition begin. I asked her if she did it. She quickly answered, "No!" I asked how it got there and we were back to answer number 1, "I don't know!" Darn it! I was not in the mood for a rousing new version of Who's on First! So, I went all Cliff Huxtable on the girl and said, "Did Dasha do it?" Her answer was a solid, "Yes, she did it." So, I called Dasha and then gave her the wink before she made it all the way to the bathroom. I began fussing at her. I stayed on this side of the crazy line but my toes were eeking ever so closely to straight out insane. As I started "yelling" at Dasha and telling her to go pick up the TP, Annie started howling and the waterworks opened for business. I admit that I felt victorious because I thought a confession would quickly come and I could get back to fixing dinner. Nope. Amidst the snot and tears, I asked her AGAIN, "Annie, why are you upset? Did you have anything to do with it?" The little convict once again denied the allegations. By this time, Grant and Dasha were laughing so hard (hidden behind the stairs) that they were crying, too! This little mini-manipulator can lie like nobody's business! At this point, I didn't have any idea of what to do. I had exhausted the spirit of Cliff Huxtable and my options were to morph into Major Payne or just hide in the closet and go back to daydreaming like Clark Griswold. Grant decided to take a stab at the situation and Annie jumped into his arms and within a couple of seconds he had a confession from her. Seriously? At that point, I admitted defeat for the night and just went back to scraping the now burned stir fry out of the bottom of the pan. However, as I wearily stood at the stove aggravated about the whole thing and now the burned dinner, I heard someone in the bathroom and I could hear the TP being rolled. What??? About the time I had scraped the last of dinner onto the plates, Annie emerged from the bathroom like a triumphant solider and said, "Don't worry about it. I fixed it." She had rerolled the TP. She came and hugged my legs (which she's now more at butt level so it's sort of weird) and said, "I'm sorry I lied," and then ran off to play. It was that simple for her. Ask for forgiveness and move on. Yikes. I sure wish I could go with that mentality. There are a few too many folks that I've had to ask forgiveness from over the last week. How nice it would be to just ask for forgiveness, know that the person you wronged had truly forgiven you, and then forget about it. As I finished getting drinks to the table, it hit me. That IS how it's supposed to be. Once again, some of us with the hardest of heads have to learn life lessons from the innocence of children.

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

Good night, all.

Spork in the road

Sunday morning - I got up with all intentions of heading to church but then realized that I still felt nasty and gave up. I pulled the service up online and watched. Then, I logged into another church's service and watched that too. No comment. Double dosing doesn't help your attitude. I decided that no matter how much "church" I poured into myself this morning, my attitude wasn't going to change until I changed it. Might as well get showered and go get groceries.

Grocery shopping with the girls in tow is like a moving three-ring circus. I normally try to corral Annie to the buggy and then have Dasha hang on to the side of the buggy. Today... ugh... Dasha is still tired from being sick so even clinging to the side of the buggy, she continued to trip. I seriously think I've pulled my arm out of its socket in my attempt to catch her from landing on various obstacles around WalMart. Annie's antics weren't as physically tiresome but mentally, I was done with her by aisle 2. She normally sits in the big part of the buggy and categorizes the items as you hand them to her. Some weeks, she puts the cold things together. Other weeks, she puts the boxed items together. You just never know. Today, she decided to "build" herself a house with the groceries. If I haven't mentioned it lately, Annie has very little patience. When the grocery blocks wouldn't sit on each other nice and neat, she started to melt down. "No, Annie. The apple slices can't be under the box of crackers. Put all of the boxes on the bottom." Have I mentioned that the girl doesn't like to be told what to do, either? By aisle 6, she was beyond mad at her crumbling house (and, the bagels and apples were squashed into oblivion). For some reason, she noticed the little pop-up dot in the middle of the lid on the salsa during her explosion. She quickly decided that the button was a camera button and started used the GLASS bottle of salsa to take pictures of everyone. Whatever. I only had a couple of aisles to go.

I finally made it to the checkout with all of the items on my lists. As I slid my card, Dasha yells out, "Mama, why do you always push the numbers X X X X on the calculator after you slide your card?" Come on now! I'm already several fries shy of a full Happy Meal so don't go there today!

If that wasn't bad enough, as I was unloading the buggy into the back of the van, Annie stumbled and fell right on top of the gallon of milk. (Thank goodness that I'd chosen to buy the WalMart brand and not the Horizon stuff which costs twice as much). The milk exploded and puddled under the cart. Both girls just stared at me watching for their cue to either laugh or melt into tears. I figured that tears were risking a bit too much so I just shook my head and laughed. Annie asked if her camera had gotten wet. Argh!

Once home, things didn't get much better. The girls were intent on testing out the "survival of the fittest" theory and continued to bicker with each other until I called for nap time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I was dreaming of a good long hibernation for both of them. As they slept, I worked on school work. Although I technically only get paid for 35 hours a week, the county probably gets about 50+ hours a week out of the majority of teachers (despite the furlough days). I got semi caught up with paperwork and then tried to take a nap. Nope. I still feel rotten but I slept all day yesterday so it just wasn't going to happen today.

Once naps were over, the girls agreed to color quietly. (Ok, quietly to the girl species is relative). However, Annie came rushing in to me and told me that she wanted an envelope so she could put a letter in the mail to Daddy. That's fine but the envelopes are in the garage - that was the office until last weekend - and the only way to get to the file cabinet is to crawl through the van. I told her to wait but moments later, I heard the garage door open and then a van door close. Not good. Remember how persistent and stubborn this kid is? I call it disobedient, too! By the time I'd gotten downstairs, she was emerging from the far side of the garage via the van with an envelope in her hand. Geez. We put the letter in the envelope and then she asked to go put it in the mail box. Once again, I told her to wait until I found the address. While I went upstairs to find the email with the address, I heard the front door open. You guessed it. (Please remember that I feel like crap and I am so incredibly tired of battling this monster on my own. Don't judge until you've tripped around in my shoes). She put the mail in the box and then came back in and sat on the sofa watching the mailbox. I didn't think much of it until I realized that she was still sitting there 15 minutes later. When I asked her what she was doing, she said that she was waiting on Daddy to come get his mail. Crap. (No, that's not really what my mind said). She's seen Blue's Clues a million times and know all about Mail Time - or so I thought. Let's just say that the next few moments after my explanation were the last straw for me and for her. We just cuddled up and had a good cry. The letter is now laying on the counter awaiting the address and a stamp.

I think there's a part of me that is refusing to slow down because I know there's some major stuff on my plate that I need to deal with. Most people talk about standing at a "fork" in the road on their journey and having to make a decision about which path to take. I feel like I'm standing at a spork in the road. I can clearly see the roads available but I keep hovering in the safety of the bowl part of the spork. When I start to move toward a path, I get cold feet and run back to safety. I feel like there's so much more grace in the spork. There's room to stumble, room to fall, and room to wallow in weariness, and whine. Once I commit to journeying down one of those tines, it's more like a tight-rope act. One wrong move and I'm done. So, this spork-loving girl simply has her head in the sand right now.

Ouch. That much philosophical mush tired me out. Well, Grant just came back home and handed the girls each a stuffed-animalish fluff ball that makes whining sounds and both girls are talking like babies while the fluff balls whine and Grant is laid out across my bed talking my ear off. Yeah. Let the deep breathing resume.

Good night, all. (Yeah, I know it's 6:00 but my mind is already in sleep mode).

Another one bites the dust...

This stomach bug that has tormented our family is now out of control. Instead of a bug, it's more like a rogue dinosaur. Annie started the party and then passed it on to Grant. I got the two of them back into the land of the living and sanitized the whole house in a manner which even Martha Stewart would have approved of. Then, last night, Dasha decided to restart the festivities. As I cleaned up the trail of evidence, I realized that I'd been bit by the bug too. Nice.

So, with Grant in Tampa with my parents, that left me and the two girls trapped in the house today. Annie did not understand why Dasha and I refused to move from my bed. I did the DVD shuffle all day for Annie in hopes that she would watch the electronic baby-sitter just long enough for me to close my eyes. (My bug took on the shape of a high fever without the outward symptoms that Dasha was exhibiting). So, I drifted in and out of consciousness. Dasha ran back and forth to the bathroom. (Oh, and my parents' 120 pound dog is staying with us while they are gone and his favorite landing pad is directly in front of the bathroom door. I lost count of how many times Dasha tripped over him and landed directly on him).

At one point today, I opened my eyes when I realized that I didn't hear Annie's chatter. She was proudly standing out in the hallway with twelve freshly unwrapped rolls of TP. She was stacking them up in a tower and then "bowling" them down with a small ball. I rolled over in relief that no damage had been done and hoped for a few more minutes of rest. Then, I woke up again to find her sitting next to my head gooshing something through her hands. She realized I was awake and said, "Oh, I think I might have put too much lotion on." Then, I spotted the poor dog with a pile of lotion on his back. Annie explained that he was itchy. Whatever.

It's days like this that really try my patience. I managed to get Dasha out of my bed and into hers and tucked Annie back into her bed for the night, though. Currently, Annie is singing an unknown song in an unknown language at the top of her lungs. Really? Go to bed! I'm hopeful that this dinosaur with take it's germs and get out of my house. If not, I think I'm going to start experimenting with injestible Lysol.

Good night, all.

Toddler-Approved Diet



Toddler's version of a diet - use (waste) lots of ribbon and tie the fridge shut.

There's no reason for an hour by hour break down for today. It was all just laughable. It's 10:00 p.m. and I just found one child hiding under her covers copying another student's school work. The other "child" is frantically trying to redo work that was due a month ago in order to keep himself off restriction and out of getting his first C on a report card. The third little monkey is finally asleep after sneaking a bed full of books to read. I'm heading to bed, too. What am I thankful for today? I'm thankful for Aleve, cool Fall weather, food in the fridge (although it's tied up at the moment), and a roof over my head.

Good night, all.

Spanx Boot Scootin Boogie

Speed blogging for the night...

5:15 a.m. Alarm goes off and I wonder if I even slept. Annie did the feverish whine noise all night long. I started to put her in the bed with me but knew she'd sleep better in her own bed.

6:30 a.m. Drop kids at various locations and try to figure out if I'm nauseous or just exhausted.

7:00 a.m. Hello, Monday morning! Text from the sitter tells me that Annie still isn't feeling great. I know that I need to take the day off but feel guilty and don't want to give up my last day with a sub. I was hoping to go to Annie's Farm Day. Dang it. Oh well. 

7:30 a.m. I tell administration that I need a sub. They say to split my class up between the other seven teachers. No comment. I guess I won't be leaving until noon, then.

Noon  I split 24 kids 7 ways for lunch, recess, and science. One begins to cry because she is scared and don't know the teacher that I'm sending her to. Problem 623 - Leave someone else's baby alone, scared, and crying or go get my own baby who is sick. Ugh. I calmed the little one down and got her settled and went for my own child. Dang. I still feel a little hiccup in my heart when I think about leaving the little girl. What if that had been my child? This whole situation with subs stinks! I head to pick Annie up and the teacher tells me that they have Fried Funnel cakes for the letter F. They also fried Oreos. Oh my. If I see fried funnel cakes or Oreos later on in piles 'o puke... ugh.

1:00 p.m. I've retrieved Annie and she demands nuggets and mac and cheese from Chick-fil-A. Mac and cheese? Seriously? That's what she puked up yesterday. I really don't want to see any sort of yellow slimy noodle for quite a while. However, she had not eaten in hours so I staked out my pole position in the brand new double drive through at Chick-fil-A that customers definitely don't know how to navigate yet despite the hostess' instructions. Argh. One kid's meal with mac and cheese instead of fries, please. Thank you. My pleasure.

1:30 p.m. One nugget eaten and mac and cheese is now sitting and congealing into a cold bowl shaped mass. All of that for one nugget. Nap time. Annie takes herself to bed and proclaims that she needs a nap to make her tummy feel better. She starts reading her books which normally means that she will not be napping.

1:45 p.m. UPS delivers the new outfit that I ordered for my speaking engagement. (Yes, I accepted the request and I'm going to step WAY out of my comfort zone)! I tear into the package and spill the contents, a skirt and a pair of Spanx to keep everything in the skirt. Don't act surprised! You know you wear the same stuff. So, I figured that while Annie was confined to her bed reading that I'd try it on. I pulled the skirt on with doing the wresting match with the Spanx only to be mortified at the sight in the mirror. Holy smokes! Let's just say that without the Spanx, I'd be nothing more than Jello girl sporting a brown skirt. Yikes! On with the Spanx. The donning of Spanx has to be the absolutely least lady-like activity anyone could do. I think it could actually become an Olympic sport! It takes determination, know how, and persistence. I'm not kidding when I tell you that I double checked the size on the package when I pulled those suckers out of the package. They looked about the same size as Annie's undies. Really? Nonetheless, I summoned my courage and started the event. I got one leg in and then sat on the bed and burst out laughing. This had to be a joke. There was only a tiny bit of fabric left and I was supposed to fit an entire leg and another butt cheek into that thing. Ok. I had to keep my eye on the goal and keep going. So, I assumed the position on the bed that you use to zip jeans when things don't seem to be fitting and I started trying to shimmy and pull those things up. Once again, I was so thankful that there wasn't anyone in the house to witness this wrestling match. I felt like a sumo wrestler being squeezed into a paper towel tube. However, I eventually emerged victorious. Somehow, I got those things to cover what they were supposed to but I realized that the application of the Spanx had created "problem areas" in other regions. Yeah, the areas covered by the Spanx were sucked in and wouldn't bulge out from under the skirt but all of that extra stuffing has to go somewhere. In this case, it spilled right out the top of the Spanx. Not good. I kind of felt like a tube of toothpaste that had been squeezed and then left on the counter. (Never mind not being able to breathe. That's nothing new to anyone that has ever worn some sort of garment like this). There's absolutely no way that this whole outfit was going to come together on the foundation built by those Spanx. Muffin top really didn't even cover the state of affairs in this situation. Oh well. I admitted defeat and mustered my courage to try to take the darn things off. The minute I was free of them and could breath again, it's like those things just magically shrunk back up to a toddler size in a mocking gesture. Oh well. I guess I'll be looking for another outfit this weekend that won't require me to feel like a can of biscuits ready to explode from the tube. I don't have any idea why I just posted that whole scene for others to read. However, I'm quite sure that I'm not the only one who has ever done the Spanx Boot Scootin Boogie.

3:45 p.m. By this time, Annie has joined me in my room with a pile of books and asked me to read every single one of them. I oblige her wishes. It's so rare that I have any time alone with her. She's growing up more and more every day and I feel like the moment I blink, she's learned something new and needs me less and less. The girl can dress herself and even picks out her own clothes now.

4:45 p.m. The big kids are delivered home. I do a double check of everyone's grades and assignments online and see that Grant is missing several assignments and grades drop on Wednesday. Great. I don't have the energy to battle the beast but it's a necessary evil. When I call him to confront him, he's completely complacent. What in the world? My straight A child has a C and two low Bs and doesn't care. Who is this child? In the words of Major Payne, "Seems what we have here is a failure to communicate!" Dasha is failing her technology class but I've known that for weeks and I just don't care. That's a battle that I've pushed to the side. Argh.

6:00 p.m. I bribe Annie to eat Teddy Grahams by putting them in a bowl on the floor and pretending she's a puppy. Really? This is something that you only do with a 3rd child. I would have never done this with Grant. However, she ate a handful of crackers and drank some ginger ale so maybe she'll sleep better with a little something in her tummy.

6:45 p.m. I ship Grant off to scouts. He's suddenly interested in scouts more because he may have a chance to work at a summer camp. I'm not sure how I feel about him being gone for three weeks. That's something to worry about much later.

7:45 p.m. I'm attempting to revamp my lesson plans - AGAIN. Why is this so challenging this year? I just can't seem to find the right groove. I've spend too much money buying new resources that don't solve the issues and I feel like I'm just not being effective. 

8:00 p.m. I'm calling it quits and crawling into bed a with a book for the night. Wait a minute. I still haven't laid out clothes or packed lunches or signed agendas. Guess not. Just kidding.

Good night, all.

Uncle!

Unlike Grant at this age, Annie simply blazes her own trail and assumes that everyone else will keep up with her!

The poor baby was like a hot stick of butter and just kept sliding right out of the bouncy!

Corn mazes, pumpkins, bouncy houses, and animals... Oh my!

Hay ride to feed the camels. No. I'm not joking!

Here's the 3rd Musketeer!

Never mind that these suckers were $12 each and you can get them for $4 each at WalMart. It was all about the memories - talk about priceless! :)

Here's the recap of the weekend...

Saturday - Pettit Creek Farm in Cartersville. I love this place. Right after our world was turned upside down, we took a trip to the farm and the owner personally gave us a tour. She helped Dasha walk the entire property and even picked her up when a turkey chased her. Then, she brought out a baby wallaby for the kids to hold. Despite their $12 pumpkins, this place will always hold a special place in my heart as a sort of epiphany that we could still do fun things and make memories as a party of four.

Sunday - Church. I don't even know if I should touch this activity with a 12 foot yard stick right now. I just can't find my niche. I don't fit in with the "regular" groups in my age range because they are all married and raising families. I don't seem to fit in with the singles because they are knee deep in living the single life. And, well, let's just go ahead and put it out there... I surely don't fit in the class with Jello girl. So, I've skipped the Sunday school scene lately. Heck, I've even skipped choir. Complacent? No, not really. I was even restless during service this morning. (Can I just note that I ended up having to stab my dad in the leg with a pencil because he was forcing the teacher in me to ooze out with his squirming and pestering)? Anyway, this seems to be a work in progress. I'm just not sure where the other singles are that have their kids 99% of the time (meaning no "free" weekends to go party) and have a 3 year old that requires a baby sitter and a nap so extended lunches after church are a little laughable. Hmmm... Who knows. For now, I guess I'll sit in the service and continue to jab and stab dad into a respectable church-like attitude using pencils and other non-adultish tactics. (My mom has given up trying to keep him in line so I've had to pick up the slack)!

After church, we splurged and went to a real restaurant. Holy smokes!!!! I forgot that they change the menus out for the after church crowd! What costs $5 at lunch through the week costs $17 on a Sunday afternoon! I told the kids to savor each bite because they were eating gold! At this point, I realized that Annie wasn't eating her food and I thought it was because she thought it was gold. Nope. A couple of hours later, I realized that she was simply at the onset of a stomach bug. That mac and cheese she'd been nibbling, yep. I saw it again as a repeat a few hours later. Dear Grant's comment was, "Hey, mom! Look at that! We could scoop that up and eat it again! It doesn't even look chewed!" Why, oh why do 12 year olds have to focus on weird things? It took all I had not to add my own lunch to the pile.

Amidst the puke, Grant and Dasha both needed outfits for different activities. Grant needed pants and shoes for his band concert and Dasha needed jeans and a shirt for church this afternoon. Yeah, nothing like waiting until the last minute. We managed to grab everything at Target and hope for a 75% success rate since we didn't try anything on. Luckily enough, Dasha's stuff fit but Grant's... of course not. I guess I'll be making another Target run tomorrow. Ugh.

I dumped Grant and Annie at mom's so I could take Dasha to choir practice and then stay for her "performance." The middle schoolers led worship tonight and to Dasha, this is of mega importance. Grant, on the other hand, missed too many rehearsals so he was nixed from the opportunity. Anyway, on the way to church, Grant texted me alerting me to more pukage at Grandma's. (He was amused that mom had simply handed Annie a bowl and told her to empty her contents into the bowl. Annie obeyed. That's the one thing she got from me and not her daddy. She can puke in a very small confined space. Eric and Grant - not so much)! Anyway, I got clearance to keep going and take Dasha on to church. I thought about heading for the state line but decided that it would be my luck that I'd already caught Annie's stomach bug and it would activate itself about the time I crossed the FL line. The thought of being stranded puking my own guts up on the side of I-75 made me keep the van on a direct route toward the church.

The biggest problem of the day beyond the puke was when Dasha realized that she would need to get herself up the stairs and onto the platform to participate in leading worship. Ok. She's done this before and we managed. Why in the world was she suddenly panic stricken about the situation? It's like she's suddenly becoming aware of her own differences. I lost count of how many times she asked if I was going to be there to help her up and down. During a break, she asked me, "What do you think I did wrong for God to make my legs not work?" Dang. Dang. Dang. My heart is already coming unglued in a zillion different spots. I don't need sneak attacks like that! Cry? Laugh it off? Say, "I don't know?" Or, be honest and say what my first thought was - "Life just sucks like that sometimes." Somehow, I managed to catch my breath and just told her that it was a special gift and that God would use the gift in some really important way. What the heck? Did I really say that to her? I'm surprised she didn't look up and slap me. Before the situation could reach complete melt-down stage, it was time for Dasha to climb the platform. I helped her up the first couple of steps and she managed to get into position on the riser. She seemed to relax and enjoy herself for the first several songs. However, I could see her begin to bobble and wobble. She starts stomping her feet when they begin to hurt and though I couldn't see her feet, I could see her entire body vibrating every few seconds and I knew she was fighting to stay up. Then, she stumbled and went backwards. Somehow, she managed to land on her butt and it looked like she'd just decided to sit down. No one else probably noticed it but I had a feeling that the stumble would have a much greater impact on her. She managed to get back up and then across the sea of audio cables to the stairs where I helped her down. (I'm still wondering if I'm the bad parent for not rushing across the stage in front of everyone and saving her. I don't know). Anyway, the conversation on the way home was laced with anger at God, at Eric, and at me. There are so many times that I dismiss Dasha's thoughts as confusion on her part. However, it's like she really has more of a clue about what's going on than I do and it takes just the right key for her to unload on someone. Tonight, the key must have been her huge desire to stand on stage like the other kids without anxiety about her mobility. She even went so far as asking if the doctor made a mistake when he "fixed" her legs (heel cord lengthening over 7 years ago) and it was his fault that she was struggling. It was a VERY long ride home. Honestly, I wish that I could say without a doubt that I had done a stellar parenting job and said the right things and been nothing but caring and loving but... nope. I'm definitely not getting a gold star for tonight's performance. I think my final words went something like, "Dasha, the doctor did his best. Your legs are just designed differently and if you aren't willing to stretch on a daily basis, your legs aren't going to work right." Talk about grace. NOT!

So, as I let the heart of the 14 year old break in half and stood by and seemed to throw rocks at the breaking heart, I hurled the van back toward mom's house to pick up the puking child and her partner in crime who has been throwing rocks at my heart for the last week. Once again, the thought of taking 575 south and heading right on to 75 popped in my head followed by the vision of my hanging my head in a very public toilet at a rest stop on the GA FL line and succumbing to the stomach bug. Nope. I'll take my one pukey kid.

Now, Annie is in bed running a low fever but without anymore puke. Dasha has her leg and foot braces strapped on as tight as she can get them and is snuggled into bed. Grant is hidden away in his disaster area fighting sleep. I'm still pondering finishing rewriting my lesson plans for the week even though it's 10:45. I started redoing them thinking I had a miracle cure that would somehow miraculously allow me to teach kids from first grade to tenth grade levels all in one classroom. But, I think I'm going to stick with plan A and just collapse for the night. Because, if I have to call in sick tomorrow to take care of Annie, I'm going to have to rewrite the plans for a sub anyway (and give up my second and last sick day with a sub for the semester).

When is this going to get easier? The balls I'm juggling seem to keep getting heavier and more fragile AND the darn clown just keeps throwing in more balls for me to juggle. I can only keep it all up for so long, though, before I start dropping the balls and things are literally going to go to pieces like someone dropping a jigsaw puzzle with 1000 tiny little pieces. Does anyone hear me yelling, "Uncle?" I give!

Good night, all.

Potty Mouth

I'm not even sure which end is up tonight. I'm really not sure why I'm about to post the contents of my brain in a public forum. However, this is a day that I need to be done with.

6:00 - 7:00 a.m. - Delivery of children
7:00 - 2:00 p.m. - Teaching of students
2:00 p.m. - Threat on my life with a sharpened pencil which was lodged into my butt. This is the one day when I was thankful for some meat on my butt and for tough Old Navy jeans that dulled the point before it did too much damage.
3:30 p.m. - Pick up my own crumb snatchers from various locations and head home.
4:30 p.m. - Lay my head down for a nanosecond. This is the cue for Annie to call, "I pooped! I'm done!" The translation is, "Come wipe me!"
5:30 p.m. - While I got laundry started, Annie decided to open a box of my checks and use them as a pad of paper. Nice. After trying to salvage at least one book of checks, I made the mistake of checking my email only to realize that somehow I paid the mortgage twice. Not good. Not good. Not good.
6:30 p.m. - Annie decides she wants to go to the grocery store with me and makes a "list." She tells me that "gymnastic Dora" is on the list and I still find the whole scenario sort of cute. The big kids decide to go too so I'm now forced to drag all three kids to the store. Annie decided that we had to use her list to shop with and that it was not an option to leave with just groceries. Gymnastic Dora was a serious item on her list and the trip would be incomplete without this purchase. Did I mention that this cute little doll was $40? Dora did NOT go home with us - just a very angry toddler with a wadded up list.
7:30 p.m. - Kids still haven't eaten dinner. I'm feeling a melt-down coming on myself so I do the unthinkable and drive through McDonalds. Yes, the kids looked at me with concern in their eyes and all got quiet.
7:45 p.m. - Grant puts the icing on the cake. My once sweet and studious child has turned into... I just don't know. The boy has dealt me some major whammies this week and tonight was the pinnacle. I have worked so hard over the last year to guard my heart and make choices which are full of integrity and protect what's left of my sanity. Tonight, I blew it big time. A few careless words from Grant and I dropped an f bomb. I've absolutely never said that word in my life. That's not even a word that rattles through my noggin in the heat of the moment. My mouth still feels dirty despite gulping down untold quantities of Listerine. Why is it that the ones we love the most have the most power to bring us to our knees?
8:15 p.m. - Girls are bathed and we play nail salon and paint our nails orange and then draw on jack-o-lantern faces. (Grant has barricaded himself into his room and declared that he does NOT want his nails painted orange)!
9:15 p.m. - Time to Nair Dasha's legs. She assumes the position sitting on the edge of the tub and I smear the smelly goop on and leave her to simmer and brew. Annie had been reading in her room but came screaming into the bathroom saying her bottom hurt. I went to investigate the issue and forgot that my hands had just been in the Nair mixture. Not good. Not good. Not good. (See? Even at this point, I wasn't thinking the f word)! Annie's screaming now sounded like a jet screaming across the sky at mach 2!  I tossed her into the shower and hosed off the problematic area. Meanwhile, Dasha had simmered way too long and she hinted at the fact that her legs were burning. I thew her into the shower, too, and rinsed her off. And, in case you weren't mortified enough, I bought a little Reese's pumpkin at WalMart for my enjoyment and decided to eat it after the whole circus act had been completed. As I licked the chocolate from my fingers... yeah... it sort of dawned on my that my fingers probably weren't the most sanitary utensils in the house. Gross.
10:00 p.m. - Everyone is finally in their assigned bed and quiet. Annie is actually still reading to herself and I'm not sure what Grant is doing since he's not speaking to me - again.

Last week, I had an interesting conversation with some of my teammates. They were questioning the actions of a single mom. I realized that I was defending the mom. There's a sense of desperation that runs through me on nights like tonight and I realize that I could make some really bad choices based on my feelings. However, I have the luxury of being surrounded by friends and family that would smack me into next week if I started acting foolish. I also have the privilege of knowing who holds my next breath, my next tear, and my next bushel of grace which I'll need to cover up my continued stupidity.

For tonight, I'm throwing in the towel. Tomorrow, we're headed to the country to the pumpkin farm and the petting zoo. If the kids misbehave, I might exchange them for a couple of turkeys. (Ok, yeah, I was actually thinking of a horse-type animal that rhymes with bass but I was trying to get myself together and keep to the high road).

Good night, all.