Crafterpillars

Today we made caterpillars out of old egg cartons.  I believe this is officially the Oldest Craft in the Book.

Now, someone please tell me what am I supposed to do with the *other* 94 googly eyes that came in the industrial-sized bag I bought?

Because I think we're gonna have to start eating a LOT more eggs.

Summer Fun! (Except Without the Fun)

Just *try* to look happy.

It's Memorial Day weekend!  The first official weekend of summer!  AWESOME!

Except, not.

Why?  Because my kids are rebelling against all this unscheduled fun.  All this joy is too much for them.  And the unstructured bedtimes?  They're not happy.

Except, when you're a young child, you have neither the verbal skills nor the desire to properly express your discontent.  So instead of saying, "dear mother, we need structure and sleep", they just act, well, naughty.  And unreasonable.  And grumpy.

All of this unreasonable grumpiness culminated at lunchtime today when, while eating a meal I'd prepared for him, asked when we were planning on hiring a babysitter again.  Rather perplexed, I replied "not anytime soon,, why do you ask?".

And his reply? "Because babysitters will play with us.  YOU aren't any fun."

In my mind, I was thinking AREYOUKIDDINGME???, because we'd JUST returned from a morning at the pool, where NO FUN MOMMY had taken them (while Daddy stayed home to mow the lawn).   And NO FUN MOMMY reads chapter books (like Harry Potter and Narnia) to this child every night before bedtime, then NO FUN MOMMY makes a big fuss about watching the movie version of the books, just the two of us.

Oh my gosh, I could go on and on. 

And I assume this frustration is shared by lots of mothers.  Because daddy, generally speaking, is around in the evenings and on the weekends... when we're having FUN.  On the weekdays, NO FUN MOMMY is busy taking care of our house and home, and therefore cannot sit on the floor and play trains or Legos all day.  During the weekdays the children must accompany me on errands, and I require them to do chores (little things like gathering up laundry or tidying the playroom or emptying the dishwasher).  And let's face it, chores and errands are no fun.

But here's the real truth: I don't *want* to lay on the floor and play trains.  Or Legos.

Marriage and parenting, in their most rudimentary forms, involve divisions of labor.  Someone has to be sure the children are clean.  And fed.  That their brains are busy practicing their reading and letters and fine motor skills.  Someone has to kiss their wounds.  And someone has to be sure they go to bed on time.  After having brushed their teeth.

And the other one?  Is fun.

The children need both of us.  But most days, they like me much less.  And most days that's perfectly fine with me. 

But today, when William asked the question about the babysitter, I wondered if *this* is what they'll remember about me.  Will they tell their children someday that their mom was all business and no fun?  Do *you* play with your children?  How often?  Every day? 

Because *I* don't.  I read to them.  I snuggle them.  I do puzzles with them.  I do crafts.  But I don't really play with toys.  And now I'm wondering if I should.

Or maybe I'll just hire a sitter.

I Shivered For An Hour Afterward.

Today was great.  It was the first day of summer vacation that I'd dreamed of. The children and I stayed in our pajamas until almost 11:00am, then we had a lengthy play date.

And then?  We went to the lake.

This year Dave and I decided we should take our boat out once, all by ourselves, just to be sure it would start.  Because we've learned (the VERY hard way) that there is nothing worse than inviting guests aboard the boat only to have some sort of failure.  Whether it be the mechanical variety or, ahem, operator error.

Either way, boating problems are not something we want to experience with guests ever again.  It's hard on the guests, and it's hard on our marriage.  (There were several times during our first year of boat ownership when I really believed that purchasing a boat should require, at the very least, couple's counseling or the perhaps just the name of a good divorce attorney).

So at 5:30pm, we loaded up the kids and the boat and headed out to the lake.  At the last minute Dave put on his swimsuit.  And when he did, I looked at him like he had lost his ever-lovin' mind.  You see, it hasn't been all that warm here.  Which means that the water temperatures are, uh, brisk.

But my husband is a ski animal, and he wanted to at least have the option for taking a little run around the lake on his water ski.

We arrived at the lake and found it deserted save for a couple of lone fishermen.  And? The water was glassy-smooth.  Ideal for water skiing.  And whaddaya know, the boat started right up.

Which means my husband (who is insane) jumped into the FUH-REEZING lake and asked me to drive while he skied.  I obliged, but I was sure to tell him he was a freak.  A water-skiing freak. 

But here's the really insane part: as I was driving the boat and watching him glide across that perfect water, I started to regret not having brought my own swimsuit.  Because, lets face it, how often do you get the lake to yourself in near-perfect conditions?  Am I right? 

Yes.  I'm right.

So when Dave had finally had enough, I told him it was my turn. 

And then I jumped in WITH ALL MY CLOTHES ON.

And then I skied around the lake.  Fully clothed.

Apparently, Waterski Insanity is contagious.

Can We Start Over?

But, we didn't *hear* you the first 3 times you asked!

I was a terrible mother today.  Just terrible.

Today was one of those days that I hope and pray my children just forget.  I hope they forget how impatient I was when I had to ask them 4 times to get in the car.  And, on the forth time, how I used my most frustrated, yelly voice to COMMAND them.

I hope William forgets that I asked him - after half an hour of solid questioning - to please speak to me about something *other* than black holes. (In my defense, CARL SAGAN would have been stammering at these questions.  Also? I WAS DRIVING.  It was just plain dangerous to be discussing such things.  My brain cannot be expected to operate heaving machinery *and* discuss astrophysics!)

Will got really quiet after that.  Mostly because he couldn't think of anything else he wanted to discuss.

I did try to redeem myself later in the day by allowing him to read the Wikipedia definition of black holes.

Except then I was stuck trying to explain gravity and anti-matter to a 6-year-old.  Damn you Wikipedia!

I learned (the hard way) a valuable Mommy Lesson today: Do not try to do too much on the first day of summer break.  Kids (and moms) need a transition day.  One spent (preferably in pajamas) lying around Doing Nothing.

Instead, we tried to cram every single thing we've been pining to do all winter into one single day.  Eat donuts! Paint pottery! Meet daddy for lunch! Play dates!

I was stupid.  And my stupidity caused me to be a ass to my children.  A yelling, grumpy ass.

The good thing about motherhood, though, is that you can always start over.  Every day is a new day, and children are blessedly short on memory and long on forgiveness.  I plan to spend tomorrow curled up in my big bed with my children watching cartoons and reading a zillion books (ones we've already read a zillion times).  All while wearing our pajamas.

Heck, I might even let Will talk to me about black holes.  Maybe.

Oh, And Also Will is Now a First Grader

So, today is William's last day of Kindergarten.  Which means I am now the mother of a first grader.  Which means today is a monumental day.  Yes?

Yes.

For many reasons today was monumental.

Because today, in addition to both rejoicing about (thankyouGodinheaven) no more morning rush and lunch-making and (killmeNOW) field trips, and a few tears from William about how he's going to miss his beloved teacher (I think he has a bonafide CRUSH on this woman), we were also worrying about predicted severe weather.

But not too much. 

Severe weather is so expected around here that we don't bat an eye when they say "chance of tornadoes".  Essentially, every weather report from March until June has some mention of thunderstorms or tornadoes.  And, as I told sweet Lindsay recently, "I've lived in Oklahoma for almost 37 years and I've never EVER been directly affected by a tornado".  And I would bet there are many just like me.  Tornadoes are bad when they happen, but they're sporadic.  And rare.

So Oklahomans don't really sweat it.  Not really.  We take weather reports seriously, and we have a plan of action (take shelter in the center of your home, away from windows) when we are worried the tornado will pass over our area.  But we don't ever really panic.  Not ever.

Well, except for today.  Today our entire state lost its mind.

Apparently, the National Weather Service (with the use of complicated computer programs) predicted a sort of "perfect storm" of weather events.  All of which guaranteed that central Oklahoma would be hit by multiple tornadoes. 

The hysteria was such that William's school dismissed classes early to allow children to get to safety before the storms struck.  In 37 years I've NEVER heard of schools dismissing due to tornadoes.  It's just not done.  Schools have elaborate safety plans.  Students do tornado drills throughout the year to prepare themselves. 

But the storms predicted for today were of the once-in-a-lifetime variety. 

So, for the first time maybe ever, I was sort of edgy about tornadoes.  I was worried our normal "hidey-hole" (under the stairs, while wearing helmets, and covered in blankets to prevent cuts) wouldn't be enough.  Which is true.  A "big" tornado has the potential to suck an entire house off of it's foundation. 

So Dave and I elected to take our family to our neighborhood country club to wait out the storm.  We'd heard they had a room underground.  I pictured some sort of bunker with cinder block walls and a drain in the floor. 

I should have known better.  The "tornado bunker" turned out to be the Men's Grill.  A subterranean restaurant and bar area attached to the men's locker room.  And the best part?  THE BAR WAS OPEN!

Yes!  We waited out the storm with practically everyone we know while drinking Club Specials.  All while the staff plied our children with popcorn and pretzels.  And?  AND!  They allowed DOGS into the club.  Because who wants to leave Fluffy behind when escaping a natural disaster?  Not Okies!

It was as fun as a life-threatening experience can be!

In fact, if not for the death and destruction, I'd almost be excited for the next storm. 

That being said, we were spared from the worst of the storms, but the rest of our state was not so lucky.  My heart is with those affected by all the tornadoes today.  I wish for them peace and healing.

And perhaps a Club Special.

Bugger

I have an irrational fear of bugs.  It might be a full-blown phobia.  In fact, the moment I knew I'd become a Real Mother was when I carefully removed a gigantic face-eating killer medium-sized spider from my child's shirt.  And I did it very calmly, so as not to alarm my wee child.

Except I think I wet my pants.  And cried. But the baby didn't notice.  So there's that.

When I was dating Dave, I would cover wayward bugs with drinking glasses and wait for him to come over to my apartment so that he could dispose of them.  Sometimes the poor creatures would be writhing around under those glasses for a few days before Dave arrived to put them out of their misery.

Also? I have no idea why he married me.  What a ninny. 

So today, when I received a call (at home! on a SUNDAY!) from William's Kindergarten teacher explaining that a child in the class has contracted HEAD LICE, well, I (internally, and very quietly) lost my mind.

I didn't want to alarm my children, so I hung up the phone and did the Dumbest Thing Ever, I Googled "head lice".

Sweet and holy Mary and all the Wise Men.

Did you know that head lice look like teeny tiny SCORPIONS?  Scorpions.  Just... SCORPIONS?  And? The wee little scorpions BITE your head and SUCK your BLOOD.

After seeing the pictures of both the tiny blood-sucking scorpions, AND photos of their EGGS which stick to your HAIR until they are SCRAPED OFF (by someone, presumably ME).  Well, I think I blacked out for a minute.  I woke up in a pool of my own tears.  And perhaps urine.  I cannot say for sure.

Once I pulled myself together(sort of), I started trying to figure out a plan of action.  Obviously someone (again, Me?) would have to carefully comb through William's hair and check for (OhmyGAH) BUGS, and EGGS, and if, by some miracle, he did not have BUGSANDEGGSOHMYGAHHHHHH!, I would have to decide whether to send him back to school tomorrow.

Into the hot zone of infestation.

You see, William only has two days left of Kindergarten.  And I overheard the teacher on Friday telling another parent that the school is not taking attendance either day.

Meaning: we can totally skip school and it won't matter.

But then, I think, "am I overreacting" (nah! never! not ME?!).  Will my kid be sad to miss the last two days of Kindergarten?  Will *I* be sad to miss my last two (kid-free) days before summer?

But they're MINIATURE BLOOD-SUCKING SCORPIONS. 

God help me.

Paige Elizabeth

**Clutching heart**

She'll be three years old in two weeks.

I love being her mother.