Stuff and stuff
I ran to drop my daughter off at gymnastics this afternoon and came home to my 3 year old feeding my 1 year old Mike n’ Ikes. The 12 year old supposedly in charge is in BIG trouble.
After retrieving aforementioned baby, who was not at all unhappy, from his crib, I noticed a funny stain on the front of his onesie. Upon further inspection, I discovered that a chocolate chip had melted, then hardened on the inside of his shirt thus caking chocolate forever into his belly button. He thought the removal of said chocolate from his belly button was funny.
The baby likes to dump out the cat food every time we feed the cats. He thinks its funny. I beg to differ.
My eldest is moving on to the 8th grade. He has a year book. He’s all old and crap. Do you know what that means? Do you? It means I’m all old and crap. Crap. He’s already informed me he’s bored. It’s gonna be a LOOOONNGGG summer for that one. Either that or I will have a very clean house. (The punishment for declaring boredom at my house is chores.)
I have determined that organization is not in the cards for me. Just as I get one part of the house organized, another part throws up all its pieces. I am forever stepping over garbage and yelling at kids to put their stuff away. Maybe if I had less kids we would have less stuff and I would be organized. I think I’d rather have the kids. I’ll just close my eyes and pretend the house is all clean and organized and stuff.
The downside of year-round school is convincing the children still in school that its not summer yet. It’s a hard sell.
The baby is teething permanently. Every time he’s cranky I just say he’s teething. It’s probably true. Or maybe he’s just really a cranky kid being disguised by cuteness. I think I like the teething thing better.
My girls often pretend that they have boyfriends. It’s probably normal. What worries me is that they often play that they have been tragically jilted by these pretend boyfriends. Having not been recently jilted by a boyfriend, I am at a loss as to where they come up with this stuff.
“K, let’s pretend that we are waiting for your boyfriend to come.”
“Ok. But he’s not going to come!”
“I know! He’s not nice. I don’t like your boyfriend.”
Hmmm. Concern for the future.
I just noticed a parade of random children, only a few of which were mine, walking out the door with cups of water. I should probably go check that out.