So I've been running around like a madwoman lately, completely overwhelmed with getting things ready for the new house. I try to get everything done while the kiddos are at school, but sometimes they have to tag along.
Let me preface by saying that it was really windy yesterday. Really windy. 50 mph gusts. We live on the high plains, and there's like, nothing to stop the wind. (Like say, a mountain. Or the odd tree here and there.) Anyhow, I was hurrying Aaron along, and he was having trouble getting the door to the car open, because the wind was blowing against it.
Me. Come on, come on, come on, child! You're slower than molasses at Christmastime! (aren't my colloquialisms charming?)
Aaron. Okay! Places to see, people to do!
Me. (corrects quickly) SEE. People to see. Places to go.
Aaron. I thought you saw places. And did the people.
Me. (under breath) Depends on who you are. And who they are. (To Aaron) Trust me on this one, kid. Places to GO. People to SEE.
Aaron. (completely disinterested) Okay.
And I'm completely with
That is, if I survive Aaron's school Valentines party. The Nazi room mother called me and I was instructed to bring fruit and juice, which is fine, but then she gave me step by step instructions on how to serve the friut, which included an email telling me to WASH THE FRUIT FIRST. (Seriously. Lady, this is not my first rodeo. But still, I thought I'd leave the pesticides where they are. Build up the kiddos' immune systems.) She strongly recommended apples, grapes, pineapple, strawberries, and oranges (HA! I used tangerines! I'm a REBEL!) The instructions also said to put the fruit on SKEWERS. *cough* Am I the only mother on the f-list that thinks giving a roomful of 5 & 6 year-olds skewers is a BAD IDEA? Heck, I stabbed myself 20 times getting them ready.
But they are ever so pretty, aren't they? I just hope it isn't the Valentine's Day Massacre in Mrs. Andrews' class today.
We've been keeping the in-law's dog, Maggie, this week.
Katie, who looks as if she lost her best friend, and Maggie. Sorry for the creepy dog red-eyes. Weird. They really aren't possessed.
Maggie is actually Katie's daughter. We used to have two labs, Kate, and then Max, a yellow lab. They had several litters of puppies, and Maggie was the only chocolate of the bunch. Max is no longer with us, because he bit Ethan on the head and face, causing my son to have 46 stitches, and an emergency room visit. But that is a horrific child story for another day. We like having Maggie here. She's an absolute doll.
Happy Valentine's Day f-list!