So I wrote that long post about what we eat, going off topic to discuss how we NEVER go out to eat. But since then, we’ve gone to eat twice. I owe my oldest two boys an apology because neither of them behaved the way I predicted they would in my last post. This still doesn’t change the fact that I prefer to cook at home, but I’m pleasantly surprised that we can comfortably sit somewhere in public, involving food and no circus acts. I suppose I should not have underestimated them: they sit quietly through Mass every Sunday without toys or books or snacks (though, just watch me be a walking contradiction this Sunday).
Blessed I am, with the least amount of eyesight impairment of my family members. I have glasses that I wear at night for driving (which I hardly ever do), or when I’m at the grocery store. So I’m farsighted, I believe. The rest of my family can hardly see their hand in front of their face, sans contacts or glasses. But lately, I’ve noticed myself squinting, even through my glasses! WHAT?! Optometrist, here I come!
I went about the house last week, spraying the outside perimeter and the floor boards with insecticide, as the first vermin of the spring have shown face: teeny tiny, baby ants. I sprayed doorways, with the mindset of Gandalf:
“YOU SHALL NOT PASS! ”
and floor cracks with the mindset of Hook:
“KILL THEM, KILL THEM ALL.”
…and then Lexington confessed to me that he’d been eating goldfish and poptarts in his bed.
I’m currently working on moving my blog somewhere else. It’s going to take a while though. I only have access to a physical keyboard as opposed to a teenyweeny iphone a few days a week. And even then, an hour or less at a time when the stars are aligned and ALL my boys are sleeping at the same time.
Lent has begun this week. So if you’ve seen a bunch of peeps walking around with dirt smudges on their foreheads, here’s a 2 minute video explaining why:
I’m continuing Lent in the spirit of lessening myself. While I’ve chosen to “give up” Coca Cola (one of my favorite indulgences), I’m also working (as should be the greater purpose anyway) to improve my prayer life and my diligence of housekeeping as a stay at home mom. As mundane as it sounds, it is a great challenge for me.
#5 brings me to mention, if you haven’t already read the first two parts of my three part series on Bare Minimum Mode, it’s time to catch up! God willing, next week I plan on posting the final part: How I Function, if at all.
I’ve saved my best Take for last. Please, enjoy:
My husband is finishing his college education. So a few nights of the week, he comes home after I’ve put the boys in bed. Some nights ago, I was finishing washing the dishes, the house finally calm after I’d corralled the older two boys to bed, then I heard sirens. Emergency vehicle sirens.
Our house is about 3ish miles from the highway, so I figured it must be a car accident. …a car accident on the highway which my husband should have been traveling at that very moment… I grabbed my phone, called and texted him, sent him an email, to no avail. I texted my MIL. Nothing.
In these few minutes, my 5 month old jumped at the opportunity to blast through his diaper. As I cleaned up my Collin, I found myself staring off in a panicked trance, wondering how the emergency responders would know to contact me if my husband’s phone was smashed under the wheel of another vehicle. I wondered if I’d have to go identify his body. I noticed I was mindlessly, repeatedly wiping the same clean spot on my son’s fanny, and I dramatically exclaimed at him, “You’ll NEVER EVEN KNOW YOUR OWN FATHER!” My mind raced, wondering how I was supposed to raise three boys without a father figure…etc.
The sirens had stopped now, no doubt they’d cleaned up the accident and were loading Craig into the ambulance. My heart was pounding, and my hands were shaking, as I washed them off in the sink. I began to pace through the house, bouncing my baby boy a little more rigorously than need be, and the sirens started back up again. They must be taking the body back to the hospital… I panicked.
I stopped in my tracks, listening, as I realized the sirens didn’t sound like they were fading away…
I heard my 2 year old, through the door of the bedroom, jump in his bed and bang his FIRE TRUCK WITH SOUND EFFECTS against the crib railings.
I cannot describe the grand tidal wave of relief that passed over me as I face-palmed myself and caught my breath.
If you’d like to continue laughing, go read Jen’s 7 Quick Takes and everyone else’s posts!