Art Projects

Every once in a while (not often, mind you) my kids come home with a school "art project" that I just have to save. A couple weeks ago Ellie walked in the door with a "Melted Snowman":

It makes me smile.

When You're Having Fun

Boy, how time has flown. Happy Birthday, Lindy. We LOVE YOU!

Tidbits

January 20 - Lindy's Prayer

"Please bless my mom to fix something other than cereal for breakfast in the morning."

January 23 - Curtis Discovers A New Phrase

Today Curtis didn't want to go to Church because "nursery hurts [his] feelings". Then later on, when I took away the remote I "hurt [his] feelings". When I didn't give him the food he wanted at dinner, I apparently "hurt [his] feelings". Then, at bedtime, he couldn't go to bed because his "pillow hurt [his] feelings".

What a rough day, little one.

Studious

My brother, the optometrist, sent me a great gag-gift this past Christmas that consisted of a strange eyeglass display stand that was shaped like a duck's bill WITH a pair of reading glasses perched on top. (Don't ask.)

Ellie promptly claimed ownership of the glasses. To prevent her from bumping into walls/people/furniture, I removed the lenses. She can now wear her "glasses" without the inconvenience of them inhibiting her vision.

And she does. A lot.

Every Wednesday, for example, she comes with me when I go help in Lindy's class. Ellie's wardrobe isn't complete without her spectacles. When I asked her why, she told me that she looks smart.

Alrighty then....

Note To Self

Amy,

You might think bowling is an all-around good time. I know...it looks like fun, doesn't it?

But then, you're forgetting the awkward moments. Like when your two-year old lays down on someone else's ball-catch thingy cause he suddenly wants to "take a nap":

Or how he runs over to the snack counter and tries to hide from you while screaming, "I'M NOT HAPPY WITH YOU!!!" over and over because he gave up on bowling in the 3rd frame and just wanted to run around the arcade...and how you had to practically sit on him to keep him within an acceptable parameter?

Or how you accidentally (and very loudly) throw balls the wrong direction cause you can't keep hold of them as you swing them backwards?

And...you lack any degree of talent for the sport.

Trust me...it's so much more painful than you could ever possibly remember. So, just say no!

Sincerely,

You

Apparently I'm a Shoe-In

According to Ellie, "the people" like me. Who knew?

En Garde!

The dollar bin at Target is a treasure trove of goodness for my kids. I'm not sure what it is, but apparently they are attracted to easily-broken, garishly-colored merchandise. I typically have a battle plan of distraction in place...and manage to press through without too much drama.

Today they had swords.

Yup, I said it...swords. The Holy Grail of toys for a certain two year-old.

Of course he had to get a little more battle-ready by donning his "Ladies Man" t-shirt and a Batman cape.

He didn't have one before now due to his penchant for using such weaponry on others. But, for a buck, I figured they'd be broken long before I'd regret the decision.

(What d'ya want to bet these suckers last us years?)

Maturity and My Couch

***WARNING***

If you have a sensitive gag-reflex you may want to skip this post.

I discovered something about myself tonight. I think I have finally grown up. (I'm sure I ought to have been influenced by my age long before now...but I haven't, and what's done is done, right?)

Earlier today I sat on the couch watching a movie with Curtis cuddled up, oh-so-sweetly, on my lap. I glanced down and noticed that he had drifted off to sleep. I was about to mention to Ian that I didn't think our little boy was feeling well when, lo-and-behold, he jerked awake and began to...how shall I say it? Puke? Ralph? Spew? Hurl? Blow chunks? Well...he began to lose his lunch. And his breakfast. (And perhaps some internal organs...I can't be sure.) I quickly yelled at Ian to grab a towel while I strategically positioned myself between the forthcoming offense and my couch.

That's right...I allowed myself to be completely saturated in unmentionable disgustingness in order to protect my sofa from a defilement it never would have recovered from. A younger version of myself would most likely have run, screaming, in order to be as far away from the mess as possible. But the 37 year-ol Amy knew that a couch covered in that much wretchedness would need to be replaced...and it's just not in the budget for January 2011. If that doesn't demonstrate some frugality and responsibility, I don't know what does.

Hello adulthood...it's nice to meet you.