This is my new daily uniform. Thrifted track (? sports are not my specialty) pants from college in a subtle hue of electric blue, a maternity t-shirt that I have no business wearing because too short, and my hooves meant for medical professionals. It just feels right. And looks great.
Every night I swear I'm going to bleach that disgusting bathroom floor and every night .... I retract my swear. Tonight!!
I took the kids to Target two days ago to buy a humidifier because Sebastian has a cough and while I was busy Googling whether hot air or cold air is better for coughs (doesn't matter, according to my thorough research) the kids pulled the ENTIRE inventory of Metamucil into the basket and under Theo's blanket. I didn't notice until we went to check out and they unloaded said inventory onto the conveyor belt. The cashier didn't even try to hide her annoyance and I didn't even try to blame her.
The kids are on spring break from their two little mornings at preschool this week and I just think that with all the snow days and holidays and snow days ... it could've been canceled? But that could be my selfish talking. As a retired teacher ... I support spring break. As a current parent ... I do not.
While this winter doesn't even feel close to over I have to admit that I've already dumped my summer glass of milk to half full and am terrified of what next winter might bring because PTSD is no laughing matter.
Theo is sick.
"does he have a favor?" asked Julia
"yes, he has a fever" answered Grace
"oh boy, those favors are the worst!" replied Julia
Sebastian is sick. Julia is getting sick and Simon just got back from a six day interview-then-a-call-weekend-then-right-back-on-an-airplane-for-a-conference-in-Arizona odyssey. So the kids and I really needed a little change of scenery (sometimes being at home all day truly feels like the kiss of death and by sometimes I mean every single day) so we switched up our non-Costco grocery store this morn. Same chain - different location. After circling the store 98 times looking for dried cranberries (and being directed to the bulk bins but I really just wanted some Craisins ... preferably the generics, thanks), then 108 more times looking for Julia's beloved cans of tuna, and 54 additional times in desperate search of tortillas ... I think our wanderlust was satiated for the next year or three.
I (obviously) did not purchase that car for Sebastian and in response to the monstrous injustice that was his life in that moment he threw his angriest tantrum to date. On the floor! Flailing limbs! All of it. I had to blink back embarrassed tears and the employee watching the entire thing from the safety of her register told us to, "have a good night!" at 11:19 in the morning after he finally came down from crazytown and we were able to make a super graceful exit so I think her feathers were a little bit ruffled by his performance too.
Theo is starting to get the hang of eating/drinking/sucking down pouches of applesauce all by himself. Aside from that blessed and joyous trip to the store when the child can graduate from the carseat or carrier and is finally big enough to sit in the front of the grocery cart ... this might be my very favorite baby milestone.
After months of trying really hard to nose-to-grindstone it with this book that everyone seemed to LOVE ... I quit. It felt good.
Getting Julia to nap in our room for three out of the past four days in a row (day numero three was a bust but ... earlier bedtime! rose colored glasses for Grace) feels like some sort of HUGE parenting triumph and I know it shouldn't because she's three years old. Not three months young. But wasn't it just yesterday that she was nine months old and scruh-eaming it out in her crib for every blessed nap and bedtime?
And I hope I'm not alone here but I really hate the Happy song. I've given it a few whirls but .... no thanks. Grinch me forever.
and one more for good measure.
Anything you want to get off your chest?
This is a safe space.
Spill it, sister.
Or (brave) brother.