The time in your life when a Daddy date to Shari’s still made your whole day.
And when, along with books and games to play, you insisted on bringing some extra undies…”Just in case.”
Lest you think I have it all together (although why you would think that after reading my stories I have no idea!), let me tell you a little story about Monday.
Monday for me started at about 4am when Isaac, who was sleeping in my bed for some unknown reason (he usually claims “scary thoughts”, but he claims it with a smile, so I think he’s after my warmth and soft bed) fell OFF of my bed, and his flailing knocked my very large full water glass all over my phone, tablet, kindle, pictures, chapter books, etc on my night stand shelves.
And my initial reaction was a CURSE WORD. Not concern over my crying 4 year old. (Nightime Caitlin is not so nice) (or naptime Caitlin) (or afternoon Caitlin) (I might just not be that nice of a person)
Brian ended up getting up for the day, and I stretched out in my bed and fell back to sleep…until I woke up to a still-blaring alarm FIFTEEN MINUTES before the bus is due to come.
I pulled (literally) a still sleeping Joseph out of his bed and shoved clothes on him and shoveled breakfast in his mouth as he cried, “Mama! You have GOT to stop doing this!”
Ahem. It maaaaaaaay not be the first time that this has happened so far this school year.
At this point, I could tell that this day called for something special, so I declared it “PUMPKIN CARVING DAY!” Hooray! There was excitement and happiness in the land!
When 5:30 rolled around, I cleared off the early dinner dishes, poped popcorn, put out a tablecloth, the whole shebang!
And….my children all refused to touch them.
Okay, Isaac was willing to do some very light scooping with a spoon, but other than that it was a one woman show.
(Samuel’s initial reaction, and Isaac’s face makes me laugh)
So….. I decided, in my infinite wisdom, that I was going to make my darling 6.5 year old touch the guts this year. Just one time. For one second.
I picked an extra juicy chunk for him and squeezed it a few times before dropping it into his protesting hands.
Then the vomiting started.
So, so, so much vomit.
And that’s all I have to say about Monday.
PS- wait until I tell you about the doctors appointment we all had last Friday…
PPS- Just for fun, here are some pictures of my children being repulsed by pumpkin guts throughout the years. I don’t know why I was surprised.
- Socks that are too loose
- Socks that are too tight
- Socks that are too “strange” feeling
- Shoes that might fall off (note: they have never fallen off, and they fit him perfectly. He admits this)
- Shoes that are too “squeezy”
- Pants that are not elastic waistband (even if he picked them out himself at the store and insisted that they were comfy and that he loved them the best of any pants ever)
- Waistbands below his belly button (Hellloooo Steve Urkel!)
- Fingernails that are too short, or sharp, or “fuzzy”
- Shirts with stretched out neck holes
- Clothing that might make him hot. Or cold. Or both. Or either.
- Sleeves that cannot be comfortably pushed up and stay up. Including (here’s where it gets tricky) coats and rain jackets.
And that was just this morning.
As I’m typing this, I have chocolate chip cookies in the oven, rain hitting the window, and a fresh pot of coffee brewing.
Won’t Brian be delighted when I bring it upstairs to his office? Don’t you wish that you worked from my home? Yes you do. And you wouldn’t mind if I came in a few dozen times a day to complain about your children and demand a hug, would you? No you wouldn’t.
I should actually be watching the cookies right now, because my last few batches haven’t turned out so well. But, I think I solved that by having NO HELPERS this time! “Whoops, Mama, I spilt part of the egg!” Whoops, Mama, the flour is all over the ground!” Seriously, the odds were stacked against me. So this time, I mixed in secret.
As I’m typing this, Isaac has refused a nap, even after swimming for hours this morning (Do hear this, adult Isaac? You REFUSED A NAP on a rainy day when your bed was warm, and with the promise of fresh cookies afterwards! I am equally baffled.)
He is sitting at the table gluing faces on pumpkin cut-outs, but mostly gluing his HAND to pumpkin cut outs, and REALLY MOSTLY pouting. We are on Day Three of no screen time, you see, and he is still shocked and saddened by this turn of events. But, he is gluing his hand to paper instead of watching Ninjago with his tongue hanging out, so I’m considering it a win.
And even though I miss the quick tranquilizing effect of a show in the afternoon, I am loving the extra play time they are having. The better imaginations. The better attitudes (mostly)
With those ramblings I am off- the cookies are ready, the coffee just beeped, and Isaac just wandered in to tell me he is out of glue.
(I bet you he licked some)
Isaac’s “quiet rest time” was over, but he wanted to snuggle with me in my bed.
His head on my arm, his ear to my chest, his head tucked under my chin.
“You used to sleep just like this when you were a little tiny baby,” I said, remembering.
“Just like this?” He asked
“Just like this, sweetie.”
He blinked, blinked, and was asleep. Just like 4 years ago.
And I joined him.
Tender mercies on a Monday
I am funneling an extra dose of love and attention to my sweet, naughty little middle child.
I swear he hasn’t stopped talking since we dropped off Joseph.
I think its going to be a good year for this one!
PS If you can’t hear what I whispered at the end of the video it was: “I TOLD YOU HE HASN’T STOPPED TALKING!” haha!
Today was my baby Joseph’s first day of FIRST GRADE!
When did they start making toddlers go to school, people, because I swear he is still my toddler. Or maybe my infant. But SIX AND A HALF?! I don’t believe it.
He was as cool as a cucumber this morning- his only complaint was the 20 mosquito bites that he got at the Labor Day campout on Sunday. (20 is impressive until I tell you that Isaac has over 30)
I, however, am projecting all of my fears onto the situation.
Fears that I am praying about include:
1) Who will he sit by at lunch?
2) Lunch in general: Did I pack enough? Can he get everything open?
3) Who will he play with at recess?
4) Will he feel comfortable asking to use the bathroom?
5) The bus. Oooooooh the bus ride home. I can’t even type it out. Just- how?, where? and what if??!
Toss that in with a smattering of mommy guilt that we uprooted him from his friends at his old school and well…its been a little rough on me internally.
And YES, thank you, I KNOW HE WILL BE FINE. I know it like how when you are little and crying because you are tired, and your parents say, “You are just tired,” and you shout “NO!” even though you know the answer is yes. But you still want to cry for a little while.
But soon he will be home, and all will be well, and we will eat the chocolate cake I am baking for the occasion, and he will tell me all about his day, and I will be relieved that he is no longer forcing me to listen to a play-by-play of the Lego Movie.