...we've been told it's really on it's way this time. Truly. The weather man wouldn't lie to me, would he?
In the meantime, Jacob and I have been getting our wee seedlings' final resting...er, plant bed place in order. Going wild and crazy and trying something new. Straw bale gardening. We currently have a couple bales outside "cooking" (fermenting and composting) as I type this. I also have a couple containers for one or two of the tomato plants--just in case!
Spring...where are you? My allergy afflicted sinuses tell me you're here--but my frigid toes tell me a different story!
Blame him. He started it. That and the Force was strong with me today--I managed to pass off both of Kyleigh's foul and putrid diapers to the Daddy.
Just now--a "conversation" between the Fruit of My Womb:
No, MA'AM! You need to use your inside voice, Kyleigh!
No! No shrieking.
And you need to use your 'poon!
Yep. That sort of sums up the total of our rules* around here. My eldest has now become the parent. I may now retire. I'm already looking up airfare to Tahiti.
*Just in case you were curious I've provided a list of our Rules for your review:
Household Rules
1. Don't be dead
2. No shrieking
3. Use the appropriate silverware to eat with--sometimes that does mean your hands.
4. Say "please" and "thank you"
5. Don't pee on the cat
Of course this had Jacob all sort of curious...
Why is there a police dog?
Because maybe this policeman does what Daddy does and has a dog for a partner.
Just like Daddy and Helix!
That's right--just like them!
Why didn't my Lego policeman come with a dog?
Because technically, it's your Daddy's Lego policeman that Aunt Donia gave him for an Academy graduation present and he didn't work with Helix then.
Does he help out his policeman with finding "esposive" bomb stuff?
Maybe. What do you think?
I think he does dog training like the other dogs at the police dog place.
Hey, why don't my policemen come with pins?
Because I'm sure there are laws regarding just that sort of thing.
And comments from Kyleigh also abounded...
Doggy! Doooogy. Woof, woof. Dada! Doggy. Dada! Woof (giggle, giggle).
It really doesn't need to be said that I'm so proud of both of my offspring, does it?
Or that I come here in desperate search of adult conversation?
I told her she had me at Yoda, then she came up with these. And dang near made me cry! He had to put his radio up--but so far, these have been well received by the whole family. However, a word of warning: if you should visit Miss Soozcat's Etsy shop, do not attempt to read the jewelry details while drinking. There will be spewage. You have been warned.
Apparently--and pretty much unbeknownst to me--I've been battling the stomach flu all week. Yea. I'm always exhausted, so no clue there. When my sinuses act up I tend to get a little queasy. Our hawthorn maples have started with their blossoms, so I just chalked that part up to allergies. So, there you have it. Guess--with the exception of being really grumpy--I handle days with a stomach bug like any other day.
Updates...
The cat is much better. He appreciates all the well wishes and kind words. At least I think he does. Sort of hard to tell. But when he woke me up this morning yowling for his breakfast, I couldn't help but miss the past week when he was miserable yet silent.
Bad Guys have actually let me sleep uninterrupted the past several nights. The wonderful Husband has his own updates.
We are now the oh, so proud parents of a Child Who Reads. Jacob and I were making cupcakes a couple of days ago--Applesauce Spice--when he pointed to a recipe on the other side of the page.
J: I want to make Banana Cupcakes instead.
M: How do you know that's a recipe for Banana Cupcakes?
J: Because it says so right there (pointing to the word Banana). Banana Cupcakes.
Well. All right then. Did I mention that he doesn't turn four until June?
I then had to explain to him that while that recipe did look good, our bananas weren't ready to be made into cupcakes just yet. But we had all of the ingredients for the Applesauce Spice recipe. As long as I let him dump everything in the bowl and stir, he really doesn't care what the outcome is. I just make sure it's still eatable.
Sean has been working long days the past couple of days. Leaving me to my own devices for supper. Last night, after throughly and disasterally committing dinner, I decided to let someone else cook tonight. There's a deli bought egg pie in the oven right now. And no slow cooker pot to scrub out! Just the comfort food the doctor would have ordered if I'd bother to go see one.
Something I still can't figure out is this: I work from home, yet somehow my weekends still manage to be a chaotic jumble of "This Has To Be Done In These Two Days" chores. How is that possible when I have all week to clean the house and plow my way through loads of laundry? Or is because while I do those things all week, neither rests on the weekends. Sooooo...add those to my usual "To Do" list for the weekends and I get instant Stress and Mayhem. Sigh. Or Alien conspiracy. I could go either way.
So, why a slightly more frazzling weekend than usual?
I may have mentioned somewhere that our ancient feline family member is also diabetic? Sounds like fun, huh? Two insulin shots a day and ungodly expensive prescription cat food. Friday afternoon Sebastian T. Cat just wasn't right. I mean even more Not Right than usual. Turns out he has a cold. He wasn't in the least bit interested in eating which meant we stopped giving him his insulin shots. And yesterday I was feeding him chicken broth through a syringe. Oh, he very quickly decided that he was OK to eat on his own, out of his own dish, thankyouverymuch. He's doing better today--actually wandering around moaning and groaning instead of laying on the bed moaning and groaning. I'm really hoping that when his vet calls me back she won't insist on taking a look at him--that's just a pain in the booty, not to mention the wallet! I gotta tell you--there is nothing more pitiful than an ancient, insulin dependent, diabetic cat with a cold. Sorta makes the Man Flu look like nothing more trifling than an occasional sneeze.
Saturday afternoon rolled around and I was already exhausted from being up at 6 am to go wait in line--in the cold and wet--and sign Jacob up for one of the county's two week long day (half day) camps this summer. It really wasn't all that bad. I was layered up, had my chair and book, had a friend to chat with, had my coffee and around 7:30 someone did a breakfast run to McDonald's. The preschool camps fill up really fast and I think I got one of the last spots for the one we wanted--but he did get in, so...Yea. (When I walked out of the building at 10, there were still people lining up outside!)
However, my plan for a relaxed evening was foiled by Kyleigh face planting on the step. Blood everywhere, a chipped front tooth, crying baby, hysterical mommy and a curious big brother wanting to see the blood. She managed to knocked the tooth a little loose, which resulted in a night long continuous cycle of her putting stuff in her mouth, having it hit that tooth, causing pain and the screaming starting all over again. Stop putting stuff in your mouth! Geez, you'd think a 17-month-old could figure out the whole Cause and Effect thing by now. It would have been rather comical if she wasn't so miserable! This morning? Like nothing ever happened.
Finally--why do people only make bomb threats in the wee hours of the morning? Why not at 9am when the bomb squad people are already out and working? And why don't people stash their guns in the woods during regular working hours? My poor husband and his furry partner have been called out at least a half a dozen times in the past two weeks--and most of those calls have been in the middle of the night. Hey, Bad Guys, you listening? Stop messing around with my sleep! I'm the Non-Gun Totin' Pacifist in the family but I will get violent if you keep making that phone ring at 3am.
Now where did I leave my coffee...
