Busted

Easter-Eve of last year found Nate and I strategically hiding those multi-colored eggs when a then 2-(almost 3) year-old Liam came downstairs for water? A hug? I don't remember. I do know that we really thought he didn't know what we were up to, and had he known, he was only two. So. No harm done.

I had completely and totally forgotten about this event until tonight at bath time when I had a conversation with Liam that went like this:

Me: Hey Liam, did you know that the Easter Bunny is coming tonight?

Liam: I know. And then you're going to hide the Easter eggs.

Me: Well, I don't hide the Easter Eggs. The Easter Bunny does, remember?

Liam: (In a somewhat exasperated tone.) Mom. I saw you hiding the Easter eggs last year.

I couldn't recover. I hadn't remembered and therefore didn't have any excuse prepared. He knows the secret and there was nothing I could say to protect my cover. He just kept giving me this look that said, "I know what I saw, why are you lying?"

Notes to self: 1. Never assume your child is too young to remember. 2. Wait until your children are actually asleep before playing the part of pretend holiday creatures.

It's Alive

And now a break from my regularly scheduled ignoring of this blog for a brief, and highly coveted update, in which I will not tell you very much except share a story for which I have no other venue to share. (Whew. That must've been, like, the longest sentence on earth. Why am I still speaking in italics?)

Anyway.

A few weeks ago, I bought Liam a new quilt for his bed. It has dinosaurs on it and it is REALLY cool. However, it's not as thick as the comforter he had before, and being that we live in Antarctica Minnesota, this might pose a problem.

On the other hand, he seems to have inherited this strange gene from my Husband's side of the family which renders a person inexplicably hot at all times, no matter the temperature. Good when you live in Minnesota. Bad when you sleep next to this person who is like a gigantic, sweaty water bottle.

But I digress.

I asked Liam to tell me if we was cold at night, but of course he didn't tell me, he told Grandma. Grandma was kind enough to fill me in, and I subsequently asked Liam if I could add another blanket to his bed.

This was met with a vehement NO.

So, rather than fight that battle, I let it go opting instead to put another blanket on him while he is peacefully dreaming about Kung Fu Panda or Candy. This has gone on now for, I don't know, a week? Every morning he throws that blanket on the floor without a word. Nary a question spoken about this blanket until last night when he asked Daddy:

"Daddy, how does that blanket get on my bed every night?"

And Daddy ruefully responded, "I don't know, Liam. What do you think?"

"I think it's alive."

For my part, I nearly fell over with laughter when I heard this because, OF COURSE he would think the blanket was alive. WHAT was I thinking? Poor kid.

On the other hand, no one has told him it's not and I'd kind of like to see where this goes. MAYBE I can convince him that his Monkey is also alive and is making sure he is behaving ALL THE TIME.

Not really. Nevermind. That's creepy.

Burning The Candle

To answer some questions.

No - I didn't keep my promise to blog.

Yes - I am completely, 100% WORN OUT, as I knew I would be, trying to keep up with my job, my family, and my class.

Yes - I am burning the candle at both ends.

Yes - I love it. I am loving school. I got an A on my first mid-term in 5 years. Do you KNOW how good that makes me feel? I want to be in school forever.

Yes - My Husband nearly burned down our new house. (Didn't see THAT coming, did you?)

For as long as we've been together I've had an aversion to candles. Not because I don't like them, because I am terrified my sometimes space cadet of a Husband (love you, Nate), will leave them burning.

I have a habit of blowing out the candles he's lit before going to bed. This behavior is always met with an eye roll, but I don't care because I KNOW he will forget.

Tuesday night he lit a candle on the computer desk.

Wednesday evening, he beat me home by not very much. On my way there, I called him and had a conversation that went like this:

Me: Hi. You know, I'm thinking, I don't really want to cook tonight. Maybe we could go out to eat?

Him: (distracted) Yeah, um, that sounds really great.

Me: OK, could you get the diaper bag ready so we can just leave right after I get home.

Him: Yep. (pause) OK, now I have to tell you something, but don't be mad.

Let me just pause right there and tell you that if you're significant other begins a sentence like that, it is time to immediately GET MAD.

You don't have to be a genius to figure out that the candle never got blown out. We are fortunate because it was sitting on a ceramic candle tray-like thing and there was nothing flammable in the immediate area.

The candle did have a little twine tie that went around the middle, so when my Husband got home that piece of twine was on fire and the smoke detectors were going off. It couldn't have actually been on fire for very long, the house was not completely filled with smoke, and from what I understand that piece of twine had not completely burned (I never got to see the evidence--SOMEONE disposed of it before I got the chance).

So. Yeah. My new house almost burned down this week.

And my Husband? Now completely banned from burning candles.

I guess you could say I'm burning the candle at both ends--figuratively and literally.

Exposed

Moving.

I'm really not a fan.

It's not just the packing, and the loading, and the unloading, and the chaos, and the unpacking, and the stress. All of those things I'm not so much a fan of either.

But more than that? It's this feeling that my insides have been suddenly ripped apart, and until I get EVERY SINGLE blasted item that belongs to me back in it's proper place, I feel...exposed. I can't relax until my insides are neatly put back in place. Back to their proper closets, or cupboards or shelves. And because this process can take weeks, I have this constant nagging feeling that my whole life, all wrapped up in my things, is just hanging out there for the world to see.

More than that? I dislike figuring things out. Why doesn't the water dispenser work? How do we turn on the heat? Which freakin' switch turns on THAT light (because I've tried a dozen already)? Why doesn't the garage door go up? Where did that one very important item go? Who are my neighbors? Where are my children? How do I get to work? Where is the grocery store? And so on.

And then the arguments come. You know the ones. They come when Nate and I have just about had it with the trying to figure things out, and the feeling exposed, and the losing all of those important items. It's about at the boiling point of all those things that the arguments come and we're about to completely lose it on each other. And Liam is saying, "You guys, you have to be nice to each other!" And then we shut up and simmer.

Did I mention I hate moving?

But then, I take a step back. And I look at my beautiful new house. The house I have always wanted to be able to provide for my children. The neighborhood, full of children, I longed to live in growing up. I look at my big backyard, and my children who are so happy with all of their new found space to roam. I see how happy everyone is to be in this new and wonderful place.

And I remind myself that I DO NOT EVER intend to move again. I remember that this is the place our memories will be made. My children will take their first day of kindergarten pictures on those steps. We'll be putting our Christmas tree in that window. We'll share family dinner's in that dining room. And we'll undoubtedly throw numerous birthday parties in that backyard.

That's when I realize, everything is going to be just fine.

More than fine, perfect. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count all our blessings.

We're home. That is the best feeling of them all.

My Day, The Rundown

I really enjoy it when people tell me just exactly how their day goes. I think probably because I'm nosy, but also because it's just fun to consider someone else's day. Something different from my own.

I think I enjoy it just like I enjoy it when people leave their curtains open at night, and I'm out for a walk, and I can peer in and see how my neighbors decorated and what they're watching on TV. Am I the only creepy person who enjoys that? Yes? Okay, moving on.

My day is always different. It depends on whether or not I actually get up with my alarm, or hit the snooze five hundred times. It depends on whether or not daycare comes to me, or I take the kids to daycare. It depends on whether or not I am feeling ambitious about my morning routine, or really if I'd just rather skip it all together. BUT, okay, in general my day goes like this:

5:00 AM: My alarm goes off. This does NOT mean I get up at this time. Typically it means that I use my super find-the-snooze-button-in-the-dark-and-half-asleep skills. You have those skills too, right?

5:00 AM - 5:30 AM: Depending on how many times I found that snooze button, this is when I drag myself out of bed. The next 30-45 minutes is 'me' time. Or, the only time I have to make myself look somewhat presentable.

6:00 AM - This is when I'm supposed to be heading out the door with the kids, but typically it's when I'm doing my darnedest to drag Liam out of bed and get him to go potty for dang sake.

6:20 AM - I'm fortunate enough to be able to simply get the kids out of bed, find clothing and shoes, add a jacket and put them in the car. (Ha, as if that was simple!) This is typically the time we are actually pulling away from the house, a good 20 minutes late.

7:15 AM - Usually, this is when I make it to work. Something like 15 minutes late. Most people seem to just understand that when I say my start time is 7:00, what I mean is my start time is 7:15. (Note to self: I should maybe start setting my alarm for 4:30 AM).

3:15 PM - I don't take a lunch so that I can maximize my time at home with the kids. And since I showed up late, it seems only fair I should hang around that extra 15 minutes. This is when I'm doing all I can to escape the office. Sometimes I make it, sometimes I don't, because of course, it's in that 15 minutes that my phone will ring or I'll get called into an inpromptu meeting.

4:15 - 5:00 PM - Time for the kids to play while I make dinner. Or, while I call Domino's, or while Nate makes dinner. You know, one of those things. We do try to eat at 5:00 PM though, and amazingly enough, we usually make that mark.

5:30 - 7:00 PM - The best part of my day. My time with the kids. We play, or maybe go to the park, or maybe it's bath night, or maybe we're having complete melt downs, but whatever is going on, this is the fleeting time a working mother like myself gets to have with my kids during the week. This hour-and-a-half is the reason I try so hard to get to work early, and skip lunch, and do my best to leave on time, because otherwise I wouldn't have this time at all.

7:00 PM - There was a time that the kids stayed up until more like 8:00 PM, but then we figured out they weren't getting enough of this little thing called sleep, so we pushed bedtimes back. This is the time we are wrangling the kids into bed. I should say wrangling Liam to bed...Quin has always been, and continues to be, a superstar sleeper. (Note to Quin: Keep that up, please.)

8:00 PM - 9:30 or 10:00 PM - Time to catch up on a book, or my favorite show, or lately, homework. Yes, this is the bit of time I've reserved each day to complete my MBA.

And that's my day. Evangelical stay-at-home mothers everywhere have just said a silent prayer for me and my misguided ways, but you know what, I wouldn't change a thing. (Well, maybe that thing about the snooze button.)

Kinda Corny

Last fall, we discovered that a nursery not far from our house does a lot of great things for kids in the fall.

Like, filling up a regulation basketball court sized area with three feet of corn, like actual kernels of corn, to play in.

Last year, Liam had a blast, but poor Quin was only two months old and he slept the entire event away.


This year, Liam couldn't be happier to be back.

Quin wasn't so sure.

Liam took to the corn like a fish to water a kid in a vat of corn.

Quin considered. Got anxious.

Liam sprinted away.

Quin took the plunge.

Liam found a random pumpkin.

Quin got more gumption.

They had fun. And I mourned the loss of two perfectly good pairs of socks.

MBA or Bust

Do you that opening scene in Finding Nemo where a presumably kindergarten age Nemo is bouncing all over the anemone chanting First Day of School! over and over again?

OK, now picture me doing the same thing. Because I totally am. Minus the anemone.

I am part of a cohort MBA program which meets one night per week (Thursday night if you're slow on the upkeep). Each semester will include two courses, except the first semester. Meaning my first class starts mid-semester, meaning that my first class starts TODAY! First day of school!

Nate thinks there is something very wrong with me, given how excited I am to go back to school. I don't know what he's talking about. What is wrong with wanting to fill your head with as much knowledge as possible? Nothing. The answer is nothing. In fact, if I could just figure out how to get paid to be a professional student, I would totally spend my life racking up degrees. It would be fabulous!

And, AND, I got to go SCHOOL SUPPLY shopping! Check it out, I've got my books, a brand new tote bag, new pens, new notebook, HIGHLIGHTERS! You guys, life doesn't get any better than this.

To top it all off, I even went shopping for a cool new first day of school outfit. I didn't have anyone to take a picture of me on the front steps this morning, but I did want you to see that I bought a necklace! Yes, I am actually wearing a piece of jewelry today. It is possible hell froze over. Just sayin'.

I run around the building screaming First day of school! today because I'm not drowning in the work that will inevitably follow pursuing this MBA of mine yet. But that's okay, because I know I'll love that too. Even if I don't always have a snazzy new necklace to show off.

First day of school!