I finally got my kids back from my other-mother-in-law yesterday, and I was so excited because my house is boring when I'm the only one in it. They weren't so excited to see me, but they were happy to get home and play with the neighbors. I didn't see them until bedtime.
So today, I decided to force them to spend time with me by trapping them in the car. We headed out for coffee with Tracy, where they made me question my desire to spend time with them because they became instantly high-maintenance.
We (read: I) decided to plan a garden, so we went in search of garden-y things. We got sidetracked by a tiny little used-book store tucked in the back corner of a giant strip mall. We ditched the garden-y stuff and went in search of literature. The store is run by a nice little old lady, who loved my kids. They spent an hour picking out the Perfect Book. This included three books with famous cartoon characters on the front cover, which discouraged me somewhat. I think that the notion of writing what kids will read over kids reading the good stuff that has been written is making our nation stupider. But I digress....they got "character books", full of crappy writing and political correctness. I allowed it because, hey, whatever gets them reading, right?
Dalton chose a book on tsunamis. It turned out to be quite frightening. "The last major tsunami killed over 500,000 people, and workers found at least 500 dead bodies every day for months! Stay tuned for a chapter on earthquakes and hurricanes! Here is the definition of 'disaster'!" I was hoping for some comforting words on how to stay safe and maybe a hopeful survival story or two, considering it was written for children, but no.
Huston was in search of "horror". I don't know how he even knew there was a genre for horror, but I told him absolutely not. He settled for an inspiration book about a person called Captain Underpants. Truly, he is my little genius. So proud of that boy, he finished the book before we got home. This child, around whom I have carefully planted the classics that inspired my own love of reading. He's been reading Mark Twain for two years, C.S. Lewis since he could read words instead of pictures, and here he is, in a quaint little book store full of forgotten treasure, purchasing "Captain Underpants." :::sigh:::
Warrick searched every shelf for "Moby Dick". I don't know why, but his search was intense enough to parallel the story itself. Sadly, there wasn't a copy to be found in the store, so he settled for something else, with a promise to obtain Moby after dinner. I was very impressed when he strolled in and asked "Where do you put the classics?"
After book shopping we met my mother-in-law for dinner, during which Huston quoted the underpants dude at least a thousand times.
We got halfway home and remembered about the garden, so we went to Wal-Mart. We sat on the patio furniture for about two hours, wondering how long it would take to save up enough to buy it, then, just as we were starting to fall asleep and get strange looks from the employees, I decided it was time to go home.
I love spring break. We don't have a garden or patio furniture or anything else we set out to see, but we had a great time, we got half price on the books because they were well-behaved, and I didn't have to cook dinner. All in all, a pretty good day.
Showing posts with label selling out for the ocean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label selling out for the ocean. Show all posts
Mar 17, 2011
Feb 28, 2011
Last Week
This last week has been absolutely crazy and I'm sure everyone is waiting on the tell-all expose...
First of all, there was Monday. The day of the crazy texts and kids throwing up. Also? Monday.
Then on Tuesday, Donovan had a fever and it broke his whine filter.
On Wednesday, we stayed home from school one last day to make sure nobody was sick, and Donovan's whine filter repaired around midnight. And I need a word for those text messages you just don't know what to do with...the crazy ones. Crexts? Tazies? ... Psycotixts?
Thursday, we stayed home from school even though nobody in my house was sick. This had mostly to do with who else may be sick, and how badly we didn't want to get involved in it.
On Friday, I finally got brave enough for class and sent the boys on their way. I spent the morning sorting paperwork at yet another government office, and answered phone calls including one from the long-lost shiny-haired lawyer, whom I had presumed dead since November. Apparently, he lives, and was full of advice that involved a cooperative ex. Meanwhile, Mr. Cooperative Himself was battling many illnesses in the ICU, but I didn't know that yet. This is one of those cases where you wish you had just answered your mother-in-law's calls before you found your lawyer's, ya know? Right? Anyone? .... Oh.
Saturday was full of medical updates and text messages. It was not a particularly enjoyable day. My aunt told me that sending mass texts while someone was in the hospital was like being a pitcher in a baseball game, only when you throw one pitch, everyone in the stands throws a ball at you....and she was right. I broke my thumbs trying to relay texts to my family, and glean information from his.
One problem with inlaws is that, when someone is in the hospital, it's already stressful enough; then it's also the time you find out how vastly different two families can be. I imagine that being an ex-inlaw isn't the best thing to be, either, but I'll give it to both our families, they have all been very kind to me, to him, and to each other.
Sunday, we got word that he was suddenly doing much better, and was expected to make a full recovery. We celebrated by tailgating in our driveway while we watched the sun set, and I may or may not have had a couple beers and they may or may not have made my nervous tummy ache finally go away...
And then, Interwebz, it was Monday again. We all went back to our normal routine, only I called a ban on homework until we can sort out our life a little bit. Then I recalled the ban, because honestly....then I called it back on again because if the kids don't go to bed at some point in the next month, I'm not going to make it.
So that is the story of our week, most of it is true, some of it is tabloidesque in it's embellishments. I was told once that a writer never reveals which is which. I also plan on breaking that rule but only when I totally sell out...then, Interwebz, I will have to change my name and run away somewhere warm and ocean-y where nobody will ever find me. Darn.
First of all, there was Monday. The day of the crazy texts and kids throwing up. Also? Monday.
Then on Tuesday, Donovan had a fever and it broke his whine filter.
On Wednesday, we stayed home from school one last day to make sure nobody was sick, and Donovan's whine filter repaired around midnight. And I need a word for those text messages you just don't know what to do with...the crazy ones. Crexts? Tazies? ... Psycotixts?
Thursday, we stayed home from school even though nobody in my house was sick. This had mostly to do with who else may be sick, and how badly we didn't want to get involved in it.
On Friday, I finally got brave enough for class and sent the boys on their way. I spent the morning sorting paperwork at yet another government office, and answered phone calls including one from the long-lost shiny-haired lawyer, whom I had presumed dead since November. Apparently, he lives, and was full of advice that involved a cooperative ex. Meanwhile, Mr. Cooperative Himself was battling many illnesses in the ICU, but I didn't know that yet. This is one of those cases where you wish you had just answered your mother-in-law's calls before you found your lawyer's, ya know? Right? Anyone? .... Oh.
Saturday was full of medical updates and text messages. It was not a particularly enjoyable day. My aunt told me that sending mass texts while someone was in the hospital was like being a pitcher in a baseball game, only when you throw one pitch, everyone in the stands throws a ball at you....and she was right. I broke my thumbs trying to relay texts to my family, and glean information from his.
One problem with inlaws is that, when someone is in the hospital, it's already stressful enough; then it's also the time you find out how vastly different two families can be. I imagine that being an ex-inlaw isn't the best thing to be, either, but I'll give it to both our families, they have all been very kind to me, to him, and to each other.
Sunday, we got word that he was suddenly doing much better, and was expected to make a full recovery. We celebrated by tailgating in our driveway while we watched the sun set, and I may or may not have had a couple beers and they may or may not have made my nervous tummy ache finally go away...
And then, Interwebz, it was Monday again. We all went back to our normal routine, only I called a ban on homework until we can sort out our life a little bit. Then I recalled the ban, because honestly....then I called it back on again because if the kids don't go to bed at some point in the next month, I'm not going to make it.
So that is the story of our week, most of it is true, some of it is tabloidesque in it's embellishments. I was told once that a writer never reveals which is which. I also plan on breaking that rule but only when I totally sell out...then, Interwebz, I will have to change my name and run away somewhere warm and ocean-y where nobody will ever find me. Darn.
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