happenings
What's new?
People ask me that all the time. I never really know what to say. We're still going to diaper gym three times a week where someone's kid will sit on someone else's kid and someone's kid will fall off a table and we'll drink coffee and likely talk about breastfeeding, sleeping or preschool. My boys go to preschool twice a week. Jordan is in grade one. Elliot is cutting molars and it's making her rather like the little girl with a little curl right in the middle of her forehead on a bad day.
Life just keeps on keeping on.
I've got a fifth child today. He's not actually mine, but he is my nephew, so he's family. The kids were pretty psyched to have him here. He seems happy to be here too. The three boys are in the back yard now, with strict instructions to stay out of the sandbox. My kids have methodically emptied the sandbox of sand over the past couple of summers. Now it's a wooden box around a grassless mud puddle. I'm in the dining room watching them and they're looking at it with a longing befitting a group of rubber boot-wearing 3 and 4 year olds tossed into a backyard with a giant puddle and told to leave it alone.
Elliot is eating gold fish. It's the only thing keeping the sickish, molar-growing kid from slapping and pinching me while crying for something she can't quite figure out and hoping that I will.
Tonight I'm going to bend all around and do yoga. Or just lay on the mat in a happy child's pose and nap while Steven stays home and puts kids to bed.
Steven has been in Winnipeg during the day the last two weeks working on his second round of refrigeration and air conditioning mechanic courses. Last year he got the highest overall average in his class. Last week he got 93% on a test. It wasn't the highest mark. I've been berating him for failing a test due to his lack of studying.
Mitchell is in the sandbox for the second time. It's okay though, because he's using the water in it to wash the mud off his knees from when he fell off the swing and into the muddy hole under it. Boys.
They'll be stripping down in the dining room upon reentering my house. It's still slightly cleaner than they are.
Sometimes I crave working. Not that there isn't a certain amount of work to keeping the house and looking after five people besides myself. But sometimes I crave getting a job with other grownups and not having to wipe poop off people all day. I can't imagine how I'd organize daycare and nursery school and school pickups if I wasn't here to do it.
Do you want to babysit my kids? My house or yours.
Jordan's teeth are falling out. I tell her she's falling apart and that she's not eating enough vegetables. She laughs because she knows I'm kidding. Besides, she eats more vegetables than I do. She begs me to toss giant chunks of cucumbers into her lunch and add extra lettuce to her sandwiches.
I just want to eat cream cheese icing all over a cinnamon bun.
Riley's trying to do some tricks on the rings. Nice to see little boys are quite similar across the board.
Mitchie's all muddy. He thinks he's coming in like that. Ha. Thank goodness for the hose, and for little boys.
People ask me that all the time. I never really know what to say. We're still going to diaper gym three times a week where someone's kid will sit on someone else's kid and someone's kid will fall off a table and we'll drink coffee and likely talk about breastfeeding, sleeping or preschool. My boys go to preschool twice a week. Jordan is in grade one. Elliot is cutting molars and it's making her rather like the little girl with a little curl right in the middle of her forehead on a bad day.
Life just keeps on keeping on.
I've got a fifth child today. He's not actually mine, but he is my nephew, so he's family. The kids were pretty psyched to have him here. He seems happy to be here too. The three boys are in the back yard now, with strict instructions to stay out of the sandbox. My kids have methodically emptied the sandbox of sand over the past couple of summers. Now it's a wooden box around a grassless mud puddle. I'm in the dining room watching them and they're looking at it with a longing befitting a group of rubber boot-wearing 3 and 4 year olds tossed into a backyard with a giant puddle and told to leave it alone.
Elliot is eating gold fish. It's the only thing keeping the sickish, molar-growing kid from slapping and pinching me while crying for something she can't quite figure out and hoping that I will.
Tonight I'm going to bend all around and do yoga. Or just lay on the mat in a happy child's pose and nap while Steven stays home and puts kids to bed.
Steven has been in Winnipeg during the day the last two weeks working on his second round of refrigeration and air conditioning mechanic courses. Last year he got the highest overall average in his class. Last week he got 93% on a test. It wasn't the highest mark. I've been berating him for failing a test due to his lack of studying.
Mitchell is in the sandbox for the second time. It's okay though, because he's using the water in it to wash the mud off his knees from when he fell off the swing and into the muddy hole under it. Boys.
They'll be stripping down in the dining room upon reentering my house. It's still slightly cleaner than they are.
Sometimes I crave working. Not that there isn't a certain amount of work to keeping the house and looking after five people besides myself. But sometimes I crave getting a job with other grownups and not having to wipe poop off people all day. I can't imagine how I'd organize daycare and nursery school and school pickups if I wasn't here to do it.
Do you want to babysit my kids? My house or yours.
Jordan's teeth are falling out. I tell her she's falling apart and that she's not eating enough vegetables. She laughs because she knows I'm kidding. Besides, she eats more vegetables than I do. She begs me to toss giant chunks of cucumbers into her lunch and add extra lettuce to her sandwiches.
I just want to eat cream cheese icing all over a cinnamon bun.
Riley's trying to do some tricks on the rings. Nice to see little boys are quite similar across the board.
Mitchie's all muddy. He thinks he's coming in like that. Ha. Thank goodness for the hose, and for little boys.
Comments