I am hard pressed to think of a single time Dr. D has gone out of town in which there hasn't been some crisis, either right before he leaves, or while he's gone. Last week he was gone for two days and I had to get in to the doctor for a sinus infection. He's in Chicago today, so something had to happen.
Last night St. Nick lost his balance while spinning on the wood floors and slammed his nose into the floor. I'm sure if he had his two front teeth, they would have been knocked out (or at least loosened, or at the very least, put a slice in his upper lip), as it was, the poor kid got a bloody nose. He is such a gusher. One bonk on the nose and he's going through half a box of tissues. And later in the evening he walked into a wall and even later, very nearly tripped over his sister.
That's a pretty tame Daddy-out-of-town crisis. We've had a whole assortment of other things - bad news in the mail, even a broken collarbone (Little Fish now knows not to jump off chairs backwards with his eyes closed).
I'm glad we made it this morning to St. Nick's outdoor adventure class, which is 40 minutes north, without incident. It's the coolest place - a campground where the kids spend most of the day outside learning about wildlife, ecology, geology, and all sorts of other things. Dr. D usually drives St. Nick, then works for the day at a McDonald's a few minutes from the camp. Today (because of Chicago) it was my chance to take him (and Fish and Mud Pie). Fish was enthralled by the scary taxidermied animals at the camp; Pie less so. But I can see now why St. Nick absolutely loves going to this class every week.
Surprisingly, it was warmer this morning than we'd expected. A pleasant blessing. The rain that's been pouring ever since I got dropped him off, however, is not so pleasant. But maybe it's not raining up there!
Update: I found out later that it did, indeed, rain, and that they all built shelters outdoors in the rain! So incredibly fun. St. Nick was beside himself with glee over how filthy and wet he was. And now Dr. D is home safe and sound and we can enjoy crisis-free living! Let's hope, right?
We have a gorgeous, absolutely beautiful custom made farm table in our dining area. Beautiful at first glance. Sit down at it however, and try to eat and you’ll discover a few not so lovable details. Like glasses will tip over if placed in just the wrong spot. Your clothing will catch on splinters in the chairs or the edge of the table. Some of the plugs look suspiciously like wood filler. And if you look closely, the gaps between boards just might be packed with yesterday’s (last week’s?) noodles, rice, etc.
Hubby and I recently got serious about taking back our health, and the first question we faced was: “How do we work in exercise?” The conversation went something like this:
Me: We could put the treadmill back in the bathroom?
Him: Um. No.
Me: There’s that gym up by McDonald’s (why is this our reference point? I don’t know.)
Him: But when?
Me: You could go before taking N to school in the morning!
Him: Would you really get up that early?
Me: Are you kidding? We’re talking about you here, not me.
I used to hate read-alouds. My neck would get tense, my throat would feel stiff and sore and my voice would hurt. (And if you say a voice cannot hurt, I assure you, it can.) Here's my story of how diagnosing and treating Hashimoto's changed my life in an unexpected way.
Every year my parish holds a garage sale to raise funds for the VBS and Preschool programs. It has fast become one of my favorite events and helping at every stage, in my mind anyway, absolves me from taking part in the actual VBS. Anyhow, a sale of this size is a huge undertaking. Like crazy huge involving weeks and many, many, many hours from lots of people. But it's so worth it, and apart from the usual reasons about helping others and serving the community, here's why…
A couple days ago I had to Google, “What do middle aged women wear to indie rock concerts?” I came up with lots of pics of denim and leather and high-heeled boots. Not much different than what I expected young women to wear, except fewer backless shirts.
When I picked up my also-middle-aged friend (ok, not really, we're still young! Middle age means, like 79, right?) she was wearing the requisite jeans, tank top, jacket. I'd opted for...
That whoever-with-too-much-time-needs-a-day-job troll who swiped my original blogspot sub domain has added more content. And, as before, the content is mine, taken from the ever useful internet archive.
The beginning is always the same. Middle of the night, a child cries, I listen and hope. Perhaps sleep will return. A fool's hope, I know.
Mud Pie's Flat Stanley returned not long ago, so while the kiddos were asleep with flu and fevers, I took the photos Stan collected and made a little video.
Below is a picture from tonight's Epiphany party celebrating the visit of the Magi. We had King's Cake followed by white elephant gifts galore. In honor of the Three Wise Guys...
A while back I was complaining to someone about how much I hated making lunch for the kids every morning.