Whack-a-mole

In the last two years, I have NEVER gone to pick Annie up from the sitter to find her asleep! She was asleep at one end of the couch and her commrade in crime was asleep at the other end. It was a rare Kodak moment that will never ever be captured again.



This is Annie's new pet. She named him Stripe. Um, do you remember the Gremlin leader? His name, too, was Stripe and he also came out of a pod. This sucker is never getting food after midnight and if anyone gets him wet, I'm throwing him outside for the birds to snack on before he morphs into a Gremlin. There are already 3 Gremlins in this house!



I got quite a chuckle from Annie teaching Stripe how to play Angry Birds. She talked to him all afternoon as he crawled up and down his stick. I've read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to her a hundred times trying to make sure she understands that this little critter is going to disappear into a cocoon in a few days. I don't think her reaction to that event is going to be favorable.

 

I'm still not sure what happened here. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and awoke to a full moon.

 

This was our Friday night luxury. The kids are so amused with the Magic Shell stuff. I know it's a complete chemical experiment but... it's Friday night. Let's live a little and be risky!



Um... Oops? The cat got trapped in the laundry room for an undisclosed amount of time. While I found it humorous and wasn't in too much of a hurry to release her from her enclosure, she was ticked off! Anyone want to take a guess at what this cat is thinking? I do believe she would need some Lava soap to wash those sorts of words out of her mouth!



So, there's the day in pictures. The story behind the pictures? I feel like I'm the mole in a championship Whack-a-mole game. Everytime I think I'm going to be able to come up for air, someone bashes me over the head I have to retreat back into "the hole." I think I've finally gotten caught up with school work and BAM! Mallet to the head. I think I've finally got my heart off my sleeve and locked up nice and tight and BAM! Mallet to the head. I think I've finally gotten a handle on raising three kids on my own and BAM! Mallet to the head! TKO!

I'm not even sure how to weave my emotions and thoughts about the two big kids into any symbalance of sense here. I think I'm going to invest in those, "Hello, my name is..." labels to stamp on them each day just so I'll be darn sure that I'll recognize them. Grant, my gentle giant, is acting like that guy, Edgar, from Men in Black that has the alien life form inside of him. I'm just not sure what to do with him. He's mastered the art of "playing" between me, Eric, and my dad. We all get different versions of the same story and it just so happens that he manipulates things to get the most bang for his buck from each of us. It's one of those "typical" divorce situations that I never thought I'd have to deal with. Ha. Actually, I don't guess I'm dealing with the "typical" verson. I'm dealing with a masterful version of the game with an overachiever.

And, Dasha? I just don't even know what to do with her. Hygenie is one of those things that you can only preach in so many different ways. The things I'm having to address with her are skills that even Annie has mastered. Does she not care? Is she suddenly not capable? Does she get it? I simply don't know.

And, Annie? Ha. I'm convinced that I need to go ahead and start securing a good therapist for myself to overcome Annie's antics. I told my mom last night, "Grant didn't think I was a complete idiot until he turned 10. Annie seems to already think that at 3!" I simply don't know how to handle this child's spirit! She loves to argue, debate, and be the center of attention. I don't want to squash that because I know that's her personality. (Anyone have a guess as to where she got those traits)? However, I need to draw some clear boundaries about respect and obedience. I'm seriously beginning to think that a shock collar might be my best bet. (Eric and Grant tried one out on themselves when we had the dogs. If they survived the zing, Annie will be just fine)!

Anyway, as I said, I'm worn out. This mole is sick and tired of being whacked across the noggin. Staying in the hole to avoid another concussion isn't an option and "numb mode" is getting old. And, heck, I've learned the hard way that the journey into consciousness out of numb mode is pretty rough. It's easier to just keep getting my brains knocked out.

What I do know, though, is that I'm snuggled up in my own bed with Netflix playing in the background and all of the kids tucked in for the night. I'm going to leave the laundry in the dryer (I run every load about 3 times before I ever pull it out to fold it), leave the toothpaste drool in the sink, and the wet towels will still be on the floor when I wake up. Tomorrow, I will begin condensing the office contents so I can demolish the wall that seperates the office from the garage. Destruction is a good form of therapy. My goal is to be able to park the van in the garage by the end of the week. We shall see how this goes but the thought of tearing out studs (Don't worry. None are lode bearing) and ripping down sheet rock sounds relaxing. If anyone needs to know, my insurance card is in the back pocket of my wallet! :) But, tonight, I'll fall asleep thankful for three healthy kids who have the breath in them to be major pains in the butt, a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and the knowledge that no matter which mallet I get knocked in the head with, He is capable of seeing me through it all and keeping me in between the navigational beacons.

Night, all.