Lessons from The Spaz: Why you shouldn't wait until the last minute to put up your tree

Today's post will be my final installment of Christmastime with the Spaz until after Christmas when I'm sure to update you about how all the craziness went down. So savor it. 

When I discussed this with one of my favorite friends, she said "So are you going to title this post Spaz vs The Tree?"

It would make a great title. But I don't think I can fully capture the fun that was our Christmas tree this year in a Spaz vs type of post so I'll just tell the story.

I'd like to preface this by letting y'all know that I am an expert tree decorator. I'm so darned good at it that my mom and dad commission me to decorate their 9 foot beauty every year. And every year they ooh and aah over it, so I know I'm good.

This year we planned to use the artificial tree we've been storing in the attic since the last time we used it a few years ago. You may remember my ambivalent feelings about it back in 2008 when it last made its appearance.  I warmed up to that tree nicely after we put ornaments and bows all over it and I decided it would do well for us this year.

So last week some time The Man brought the tree down from the attic and it has been sitting in the living room since then. Tonight the kids were all "Mommy, when are we going to put up the tree?" and "How will Santa know where to put our presents if we don't have a tree up?" and "All our friends have Christmas trees up."

So I was like "Quit whining or I'll tell Santa we're Jewish!"

And then we decided to put up the tree.

I opened up the box and discovered, much to the dismay of my little angels, that the tree stand that comes with the tree was missing.  We searched the attic (well I searched the attic... I typically don't let the kids go in the attic. Only when they're bad.) and found nothing. We searched the boxes and boxes of ornaments and other Christmas things. No tree stand.

So I unearthed the tree stand that holds real trees and attempted to prop it up in that.  It promptly fell over.  I wedged a towel in there with it in order to give the artificial tree stump some girth.  It fell over again, though this time not quite as promptly.

So I googled and discovered that Walmart carries replacement tree stands for just this type of predicament.  Goober and I jumped in the van and headed off to our local Walmart, 5 days before Christmas, in the hope of locating a replacement tree stand for our tree.

We parked the van in no mans land outside of the garden center at Walmart. Goober, carrying a fistful of pennies, nickels, and dimes that he called his "spending money", was hoping to score himself a new LEGO minifigure with all his change. He jumped out of the van and dropped about ten coins on the ground.  I took his change and traded him for some quarters I had in the van and he promptly dropped them on the ground, too. After I allowed my child to climb halfway under the van to retrieve all his change, we braved the Walmart parking lot, hand in hand.

Once inside I was mortified to find out that they were sold out of replacement tree stands. Evidently we're not the only people who somehow lose these invaluable parts to the tree. I was about to leave the store in defeat when I spotted in the far corner of the garden center a sign. It said "Christmas Trees - $17!"

And I was all "SWEET!"

So I dragged Goober, whining about his lack of minifigure, over to the real Frasier Firs wrapped up in their blue twine encasings and picked what appeared to be the best one. I tore the tag off that sucker and we went back into the store to locate said minifigure and pay for our new tree.

After we had paid, I grabbed that tree, put it under one arm ala Paul Bunyan, grabbed Goober's hand with my free hand and we made our way to the van. I felt quite "Independent Woman" carrying that tree through the parking lot like an Amazon Lady. Evidently Christmas trees aren't nearly as heavy as The Man has been leading me to believe all these years. I did get some odd stares from other Walmart patrons. But seriously, who were they to judge in their hot pink spandex pants and zebra striped tube tops?

I digress.

With a touch of a button I opened the hatch to the back of the van, threw the tree inside, and away we flew like the down of a thistle.

Upon arriving home, I filled our real tree stand up with water and securely fastened our new tree inside. We freed it from it's twine prison and watched as the tree dropped about half of its needles onto the floor.  As I attempted to fluff the tree out a bit more, even more needles dropped. It was as if it was raining needles in the house. Oh, the joy that is Christmas.

Munchkin and I then went about searching for the tree lights, which we located in a festive red and green plastic bin. They were a tangled mess, but I was feeling triumphant and strong and knew I could handle it.

Until I plugged them in. 

You guessed it.  Nothing.  We checked the bulbs, we made sure they were tight. We twisted, we tried a different outlet.  But it was to no avail.  We had no Christmas lights.

"We can have a tree without lights, Mommy" my sweet little Munchkin said as she looked up at me with her big blue eyes.

"Not for us, sweetheart. We shall have lights!"

So, after I washed the sap off of my hands and brushed the needles out of my hair, we headed off to Walgreens where we found an abundance of lights. (I had actually checked Walmart for lights when we were there thinking this might be an issue, but much like replacement tree stands, Walmart is sorely lacking in Christmas merchandise right now.)

Armed with four brand new boxes of lights, we were back in the van and determined to get our Christmas on. We sang to "Rockin Around The Christmas Tree" and "Jingle Bells" and "O Holy Night" all the way home.

But y'all, by the time we got home and I unwrapped those lights and put them on the tree, my Christmas cheer was depleted.  I looked at our pitiful needle shy tree and I exhaled.  I opened up the three boxes of unbreakable Christmas ornaments and I said to the kids "Go for it, guys."

And that was it for me. 

The Spaz and her brood head to the mall

On Sunday The Man and I are attending a wedding. Since jeans and flip flops aren't proper wedding attire, I was forced to head out into the retail world and buy something more appropriate to wear.

Now, I've known about this wedding for months and could have gone shopping before school let out so I would have had the luxury of doing it without three kids in tow. But then what would I blog about?

So I packed up my three relatively clean kids and we pointed the minivan in the direction of the mall.

"What are we doing here?"
"I'm hungry."
"This is BORING."
"MOMMY! He HIT me!"
"She's annoying."
"How long are we going to be here?"
"I'm thirsty."
"Can we go to GameStop?"
"I hate GameStop!"

Should I continue?  Luckily, the dressing rooms at Macy's weren't overly crowded and I parked my three angels into a dressing room, closed the door, and went into the next one to try on everything I had picked out.   My karma must have been strong because I found something that not only fit, but looked decent.  Score!

So the kids were OMG SO HUNGRY I THINK WE MIGHT DIE RIGHT HERE IN MACY'S so we decided to head over to the food court.

On our way to the food court we were accosted by men selling things from kiosks.  Have you ever been to a fair where the guys running the games yell things out at you to get you to play their game?  That's what walking in the mall has been reduced to.  As we passed once kiosk that was selling some useless gadget or solution or something else, the high pressure sales guy that stood next to it shouted out "Ma'am?"

I love being called ma'am. It reminds me that my youth took one look at my troublesome brood and fled the building.

For some reason I briefly paused and said "Excuse me?" because I guess I thought he had a legitimate question to ask me.

"May I ask you a question?"

And then I realized I was about to be sucked into a sales pitch. So I said "Um, no, I'm not interested. C'mon kids!"

And I thought to myself... what kind of moron sees a frazzled woman with three children and tries to stop her for a sales pitch? When I'm walking through the mall with kids, the goal is to arrive at whatever destination we have set forth with all three children still in tact. Any distraction or detour has the potential to seriously derail this goal. Children are easily distracted by shiny things, fuzzy things, things that light up or fly or move. It is a full time job to keep an eye on them and Mr. Youneedmypieceofjunklikeyouneedaholeinyourhead thinks it would be a good idea to stop me and try to sell me his magic beans? Does he really think I have the time or energy to listen to his tried and tested speech that was handed down from upper corporate management? This isn't a leisurely shopping trip, buddy.

And so we moved on.

At the food court the children all wanted to eat different things so we had a fun time collecting whatever their little hearts desired and finding a table to sit at.  After lunch we decided to head over to the Apple store to get an iTunes gift card for one of Munchkin's friends.  Unfortunately to get to the Apple store we had to pass by Build-A-Bear.

What is it about Build-A-Bear that strikes a desire larger than any other in my daughter's heart? The mere mention of Build-A-Bear causes her to go into a full on grief stricken tangent describing how she has only ever been to Build-A-Bear once and she was 5 and it was so long ago and every one of her friends has lots of Build-A-Bears and why are we so mean to her??!

Well, Munchkin, it's because I think spending over $50 for a stuffed animal that you had to make yourself is a little ridiculous. I don't care if you held its little beating heart in your hand and made a wish on it.  Whoever came up with Build-A-Bear is a freaking genius.

About halfway to the Apple store, Bug said "Mommy? Where's your bag?"

And I looked down and realized I was not holding the outfit I had purchased for the wedding. Bug didn't have it, Munchkin didn't have it, and Goober didn't have it.

But it FIT!!!! Tragedy has stricken!!

So we turned back and I prayed it was still sitting at the table we ate our lunch at.  Bug ran ahead as he is smaller and less encumbered and can move quickly through mall crowds.

My karma held out and Bug returned with the bag in hand. Crisis averted. On our way back to the Apple store we passed Build-A-Bear again. Joy.

The Apple store was filled with teenagers wearing low rise jeans that appeared to be painted on, chunky belts, and they all had haircuts that were straight out of an anime cartoon. I don't go into the Apple store often, but this is the first time I realized there is no cash register area. There's no place to walk up to someone and say "Hey, I'd like to get a gift card. Can you help me?"

There's the "Genius Bar" that Bug warned me was not where I was supposed to go and if I did I would surely embarrass him by being such an out of place loser that I didn't know what to do at the Apple Store.  Other than that, I guess you're just supposed to find an iPad to play with and wait for a "Genius" (I challenge them to an IQ test...) to come by and assist you.

So we left.

And we walked by Build-A-Bear again.

On our way out of the mall I stopped by the Piercing Pagoda to ask if they could clean my necklace. Piercing Pagoda is owned by Zales and since we bought the necklace at Zales, they're supposed to polish it up for me whenever I demand it.  While standing outside their kiosk Munchkin decided that she had finally worked up the courage to get her ears pierced.

It's been a couple of years in the making, actually. She's wanted to get them done and then she changes her mind. Pain freaks her out.  But yesterday she felt ready. She picked out some cute little sterling silver stars and I signed the waiver that said I wouldn't sue them if they chopped her ear off.

And then she sat in the chair.

She was nervous... she was shaky... she wanted them to just get it over with, already...

And then they did.

She just said "Ouch" and her eyes got a little watery. And then she was happy.

And though a part of me thought how sad it was that I had just allowed someone to poke holes in my perfectly formed child and another part of me lamented that she is indeed growing up... I was mostly so proud of her.

And then Bug made fun of her for tearing up and she decked him.

Keeping up disheveled and chaotic appearances

I've never been one to "keep up appearances"... with me, what you see is what you get.  My house is messy, my clothes were probably purchased at one of my favorite thrift stores, my car has scratches and dents, and my kids eat McDonald's for dinner more than once in a blue moon.

And whenever I see a family that never shows any of that stuff I'm immediately suspicious. What price do they pay to keep that house immaculate? Why is nothing ever broken or stained? How can they have four children and not a speck of crayon on their walls?  How does she find the time to keep that house clean, pack nutritious vegetarian lunches for her children in eco-friendly reusable containers, cook a nutritious dinner, feed her children, clean it all up, make it to ballet lessons and soccer practice, and have them all bathed and tucked into clean beds with footie pajamas on by 9 pm?  And when does she manage to take eye-popping colorful pictures of all of it and post it on her blog?

I can't do it, y'all. It's just not going to happen. Maybe if I didn't work. Maybe if I had stimulants to get me through. I don't know.

But I wonder, why is it so important to us to keep up these appearances? You know that Mrs. Perfect Mom has her moments. You know there are days when the laundry piles up and her seven year old son urinates all over the seat of the toilet and the dog chews up her favorite pair of sparkly sandals.

But she'll never show it.  Why not? Why is it so important to some people that everyone think their life is just perfect? Does it make her feel better about herself if other people think her life is flawless and clean?

I think it's crazy how much pressure is put on the average mother these days. And these picture-perfect magazine spreads and blogs and 20/20 specials only put more pressure on us.

It's okay to be normal. It's okay for life to be messy. And it's okay to show it.

Fort Wilderness Camping with the Girl Scouts - Easter Sunday

After all the little girl scouts had gone to sleep, two of the leaders hid Easter eggs all over our campsites for the girls to find in the morning.

So early Easter morning the girls woke up to a colorful array of eggs scattered throughout the sites.  And in the trees.

That's right, the trees.

Evidently the squirrels of Fort Wilderness thought they should be part of the egg hunt, too.  And they got an early start.  Eggs were open, had holes chewed in them, and were falling from the treetops.  It was hilarious.  The girls had fun finding the eggs and then ate a cereal and fruit breakfast while we got to the business of breaking down camp.

Check out was at 11 but it took us a little longer to get everything packed up.  Luckily no one came by and yelled at us to get out.  We managed to pack up the trailer and get it attached to the Suburban on the first try and we all gave high fives to each other in glee.

We seriously were so freaking proud of ourselves.

We had promised the girls we'd let them shop in the gift shop before we left so two leaders took the girls to shop while one of the leaders and I took our cars loaded with gear off the site to the parking lot. Once all the girls had shopped and we were back at the parking lot we realized our girls were starving. So what did we do?

We put leftover spaghetti and meatballs into plastic cups and let them eat in the cars.  They got to forage into all the leftovers from the coolers and everyone was happy as we got on the road to go home.

It was about an hour into the drive when my co-leader and I in the van noticed that one of the lids on one of the bins on the trailer was flapping around a little.  Before it flew off and caused a ten car pileup on the Florida Turnpike, we pulled over and assessed the situation.  Some highway side securing solved the problem and we were back on our way.

Halfway home, I discovered that The Man and his family were holding the annual Easter egg hunt for Munchkin to arrive.  So I informed my fellow leaders that I'd be making a detour before we pulled into town to drop Munchkin off at the family party so that all the kids could get to hunting.

Munchkin happily skipped off to the hunt in her girl scout camping clothes and not a pretty Easter dress as would have been the norm... but I don't think anyone cared.

By 6:30 every girl had been delivered to their parents, the van had been unpacked, and I was driving home to an empty house.  After a hot shower I fell into bed, exhausted.  And that was the end of me.

Fort Wilderness Camping with the Girl Scouts - Day 2

Where was I?

Oh yes, we had just served the girls lava spaghetti from the front seat of the van.

By the time the movie was over, all eleven girls were pretty tired so we headed back to camp and everyone got ready for our first night of sleeping in tents.

The girls showered in the lovely showers that Disney provides.  Truly, the best showers I have ever seen at a campsite.

The other leaders and I hung out in our chairs and relaxed a bit while the girls giggled themselves to sleep and then we retired to our air mattresses.

I don't know about you, but I never have any luck with air mattresses. Last weekend was no exception.  I inflated my high quality, not cheap or crappy, Sealy air mattress fully and prepared for a comfortable night of sleep.  However, at some point I found half of my body touching the ground and the other half awkwardly raised in the air.  This always happens to me.  I have bad air mattress juju.

The morning came early on Saturday and we were determined to have a day full of fun for the girls. After a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, we did the standard girl scout dunk bag method of cleaning dishes and the girls went off to play a wicked game of Disney dodge ball.

While the girls were playing dodge ball, my co-leader and I went to refill our propane tank and check out the beach area of the campground where it was rumored that the girls might enjoy a nice picnic lunch.  I mentioned before that Fort Wilderness isn't really car friendly, didn't I? Well this would be one of those times when having a golf cart would have been awfully handy.

We had the van, carrying a propane tank and all, and were trying to get close enough to scope out this little beach area.  But there is absolutely no place to park.  Now it was Saturday around 11, which also happens to be check-out time at Fort Wilderness.  So we drove to the nearest campsite loop and decided to park the van in an empty campsite and walk over to the beach area to check it out.  Check out just happened, right? So the chances of the new campsite tenant showing up right away was really slim, right?

You'd think.

As we were walking back to the van after leisurely discovering the perfect picnic spot, I heard a horn honking in the distance.  And then I realized it was coming from a HUGE MOTOR HOME parked right behind the van.

The van looked really itty bitty in comparison.  I think the van was shaking a little with fear.

We ran back to the van and apologized profusely to the people who desperately wanted to get their site set up and we hightailed it out of there.

Back at our site we loaded up sandwich stuff in soft coolers and all of us rode our bikes over to the picnic spot for sandwiches.

We ate and then the girls wanted to head over the the Triple Circle D ranch to look at the horses.  These are the same horses that pull the carts on Main Street in The Magic Kingdom and I was totally excited to go see them.  Of course, I pretended I was really only going to see them because the girls wanted to go, but secretly I was thrilled.

And that's when I fell in love.




All of the horses there are Percherons and they're ginormous.  And absolutely beautiful.  And they're all named manly names like John (seen above) and Jake and Dave.  And I wanted to take them all home.

After horses and lunch we all went over to the pool and got sunburned.  It was joyous.  We did apply sunscreen to each and every girl, but the Orlando sun is relentless and our little porcelain dolls fried like lobsters.  They had a fantastic time, though.

At 5 we hurried back to camp and made hot dogs and hamburgers for the girls.  They served them, just like good girl scouts should do, and we realized that we actually might be doing a good thing for these girls.  They served, cleaned up, and all ran efficiently.  It was fantastic.

After our cookout, we got ready to head over to the Chip & Dale sing along where the most exciting part of our trip occurred.  Before the sing along started, while the girls were getting all ooey gooey with smores over the campfire, one of the cast members came over and asked if our troop would be willing to introduce Chip & Dale.

And all the girls went "SQUEEEE!!!"

No really, that's the noise they made.

So after we cleaned the marshmallow stickiness off of their faces and the chocolate off of their little fingers, we all lined up with Chip & Dale and escorted them on to the stage.  Which was awesome.

The girls got a signed photo from Chip & Dale and hugs and kisses and it was fantastic.

After the sing along we took them back to the beach area to watch the Electrical Water Pageant and the fireworks from the Magic Kingdom.

It was really an awesome day.

And in the end, eleven little girl scouts fell fast asleep in their sleeping bags.

Fort Wilderness Camping with the Girl Scouts - Day 1

So to continue the nature-loving trend I'm having here on Domestic Spaz, it's time to talk a little about last weekend's camping trip.

It wasn't really intentional that we planned a weekend camping trip for the girl scouts on Easter weekend.  It was more of a "Hey! We need to book a camping trip! The girls don't have school that Friday, let's book one then!" and bam reservations were made.

It didn't really pose much of a problem for our troop, luckily, as out of sixteen girls, only three decided they couldn't make it.  In the end, two more dropped out due to health issues.  So Friday morning we gathered at my co-leader's house at the crack of dawn to begin our adventure.

We had gathered most of the girls gear the night before and put it in the topper on my van.  The Man packed that sucker like a game of duffel bag tetris and I warned everyone not to even think about opening it until we had arrived at Fort Wilderness.

The real challenge was packing up the open trailer we were using to bring up the tents and food and BIKES.  Luckily, my co-leader's husband was willing to pack it up nice and securely for the ride up.  Since we're smartypantses, we took pictures of the trailer in order to remember how to pack it up to come home. This would be the first of our genius moves of the weekend.

We got on the road a little late, but managed the 3 hour drive without incident.

The trailer and all of its contents remained secure and once we arrived on our campsite we managed to back it into place and unhook it from the Suburban that had pulled it up there.

Nevermind that we forgot temporarily to actually unlock it from the trailer hitch and managed to actually pick the back of the Suburban off the ground while attempting to unhook it.  And nevermind that the block we placed underneath the front of the trailer wasn't exactly level, causing the trailer to roll backward and KACHUNK on the ground. No one was injured and all was well. And we did it.

We quickly ate a sandwich lunch because we were all starving.  Then our first real challenge (aside from the trailer) was to set up camp.  We had three tents for the girls and one ginormous tent for the five leaders and two adjacent campsites to utilize.  So we decided to put all the girls on one site and then put the leaders on the site with the trailer and all of the cooking stuff.  This would be the second of our genius moves of the weekend.

The girls tents quickly started going up.  Until we got to the tent I had brought for the girls.  Now, the last person to use this tent was The Man's cousin when she took our kids and her kids camping with the boy scouts.  I was actually in Pittsburgh at the time, but evidently when the tent was returned it was a little disheveled.  The Man was dealing with an arm injury at the time, so I guess when he attempted to return the tent to its original condition, he forgot to make sure that the entire structure of tent poles and framing was put in the bag with the tent.

I had planned on setting up the tent at home before the trip just to make sure nothing like this happened... but time caught up with me (as it usually does) and it never happened.  So you can imagine my frustration when I realized that the tent I had brought for the girls wasn't going to happen.

Yeah.

Luckily, we had to make a run to Walmart for food just after setting up camp, so the troop could purchase another tent while we were there. Crisis averted.

While one of the leaders and I ventured off to Walmart, the other three leaders took the girls to the pool.  There is an awesome bus line that runs throughout Fort Wilderness that will get you pretty much wherever you need to go.  But the girls wanted to ride their bikes.  And when they had played all of the cards they could play to get us to agree to let them ride their bikes to the pool (that we weren't sure where it actually was), they played the final card.

"But it's EARTH DAY!"

And off on their bikes they all went.






After the pool and the trip to Walmart, we started dinner for the girls. The girls had planned the menu, so Friday's dinner was spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread.

Time was of the essence (as it always is), so we decided to make a big pot of spaghetti and drive the girls over to the movie (there's a movie under the stars every night at Fort Wilderness) and let them eat the spaghetti there.

So we drove them over (as close as we could drive them, a lot of Fort Wilderness is bike & golf cart accessible only) and set up an assembly line of plates and forks for them to get their spaghetti and walk over to the movie.

The pot was on the floor of the front passenger seat of my van and to serve it, we had the brilliant idea of me putting my hand in a big ziploc bag and grabbing a handful of spaghetti to put on their plate.  The idea was awesome.  Except for the fact that the spaghetti was like LAVA.

I served the first girl in this manner and my hand was immediately tingly like it was on fire.  But I had eleven girls to serve and there was a bit of a sense or urgency... so what did I do?

I persevered.

I stuck my hand into the burning lava spaghetti eleven times and served all eleven girls.  And then I cried as the feeling returned to my fingertips.  But all girls ate. Mission accomplished.

In the morning I discovered two meatballs on the floor of the van and three strands of spaghetti stuck to my dashboard.  But it was all good.

In which the Spaz thinks maybe she should have done it differently...

We're one month in and I'm beginning to have doubts about my decision to homeschool Bug.

We're behind. Way behind. And I'm just not sure exactly how we're going to catch up.

Now, before you flame me for being irresponsible with my son's schooling, I'd like you to know that I blame this entirely on our school district.

That's right. It has nothing to do with my own disorganization or procrastination AT ALL.

No... seriously.

We ran into our first problem on September 9th when Munchkin and Goober had no school for Rosh Hashanah. Since I had been told that our schedule would follow the school district's schedule, I was surprised when Bug had a full day of lessons scheduled. We had plans for the day so I let Bug play hooky that day and figured we'd make it up as we went along.

We still haven't completely made it up. What can I say? We're a busy family.

So then, for 3 days this week Bug was required to spend the first 2 hours of each day doing diagnostic testing for the district at the elementary school. While I did enjoy having a couple of hours to myself for those days and I met another amazing mom who I have a lot in common with while dropping Bug off, we still had a full day of lessons scheduled on those days and only a few hours each day to complete them until Munchkin and Goober got home from school. (That was a horribly long sentence.)

And then the kicker came in when yesterday was a half day for the regular school kids. Of course, Bug had a full day of lessons scheduled, and hadn't even put a real dent in what he was overdue on by the time his siblings came loudly through the front door to distract him.

So now we're 2 to 3 full days behind and Bug is terribly overwhelmed. He looks at his lessons as this weight bearing down upon him like an anvil in a Warner Brothers cartoon. And I don't know how to make him feel better.

Somehow we need to get through this and get ahead of the game and it's not going smoothly. I've realized with horror how difficult it is to have one kid homeschooling with a structured program like the one Bug is using (Connections Academy if anyone has any experience), while his siblings are attending regular school.

Unfortunately the next couple of weekends are booked solid, as well, so we're going to have to figure out how to bang this out during the week. I'd like to say I can forgo some of the activities on the weekends but I honestly just can't. And I wonder if I've failed my son by selecting this for him...

But then I think back to last year when Bug went to regular school for 6 hours every day and then sat for the next 6 hours at the kitchen table crying because he couldn't get through his homework. So many nights I sent him to bed without finishing it because I had to decide whether it was more important for him to write an essay or get a good night's sleep. And then I know that this is a better option. It's just a lot harder than I thought it would be.

In which The Spaz decides that sleeping is overrated...

Today was Bug's first day of 5th grade and my first day as his Learning Coach. And we made it. We're both alive. Barely.

We started out the day with optimism and smiles. And even though there were a few tears and frustrations throughout the day, I think all in all it went pretty well. I loved that we went right into learning today on the first day (even though Bug said it was all pretty easy) instead of the first day of traditional school where it seems to be all paperwork and teachers getting organized and learning names.

We even got a little ahead of the game for tomorrow.

So Bug's all good. He's happy and I *think* he's pretty happy with the way this home school thing is working out.

Me? I'm fried.

I've been known to jump right into new adventures with both feet. And sometimes that's a good thing, and sometimes it's not so good. It's my nature and I certainly haven't betrayed my nature lately. I'm just wondering what I've gotten myself into.

It's not just the homeschooling, either. At some point today I committed to being a co-leader for Munchkin's Junior Girl Scout troop this year... the troop that holds meetings at the exact same time as Goober's football practices. And I'm still trying to figure out how to fit karate in for Bug.

And I can't forget the fact that I need to somehow fit in at least 30 hours of work time in each week, do the grocery shopping, make dinners, do laundry, and keep the house in some sort of order.

I've decided to just forgo sleeping to fit it all in.

The Man has reluctantly agreed to take some time off of work to play taxi driver and baby sitter and I'm in the process of making a new chore list for the kids to help take some of the pressure off of me. So maybe it won't be so insane... maybe?

The kids are only little once, right? Before I know it they'll be grown up and have their own lives and all this insanity will be like a dream.

At this point, I'd welcome those white coats...

Today was one of those days when you just look skyward and think "Really? Can I just get a little break?"

First of all it was cold.

Now I don't want to hear about it from you northerners. I'm frigging cold. I don't care if you're colder or if I'm a wimp because temperatures in the 40s and 50s aren't cold enough for me to warrant complaining. I'm a Florida girl and when the mercury drops below 70 I'm not happy about it.

Second of all, the kids have been out of school since the 18th of December. Two weeks of them being with me all the time, coupled with the holidays have pretty much set me on the brink of insanity. They go back to school tomorrow and I swear I'm going to hear choirs of angels singing when I drop the last bugger off in the morning.

And then this evening it was just one thing after another. First I attempted to get them to clean the bathroom. The Man's brother will be over tonight to watch some stuff on the TV with The Man and I attempt to at least make sure the bathroom he has to use isn't too gross. He's not picky - thanks, E! - but I try to at least make sure he doesn't have to be accosted with a floater or anything. That's the kind of nice sister-in-law I am.

There was whining and gnashing of teeth and complaining over all of that for what seemed like FOREVER. Finally, the bathroom was "clean"... according to their standards. But whatever.

Then the dog, who I'm loving a whole lot less these days, chewed up my Zafu (meditation cushion) and little wheat husks or whatever that thing was stuffed with went all over the floor. So I cried a little and attempted to not kill the dog and Bug (the sweetheart that he is) cleaned it up for me so I wouldn't have to see it. I love that kid.

Next we had to get to the grocery. We're all in the car and ready to go and Goober says to me "Mommy, I only have one shoe."

Of course you only have one shoe. Why would I assume you'd have two shoes on your feet when you get in the car???

So back in the house we go to get two shoes.

Then, just when they're getting ready for bed and I'm thinking the day is finally going to be calm, I hear "Mommy, Sudo pooped on my library book."

I'm done, y'all. Absolutely fried.

But you know what? I do this all to myself. Somehow. I know this, because I see other women who have three kids (sometimes more!) and a dog or some other animal and they're not crazy. They manage to have clean homes and their kids get to bed on time and their dogs don't poop on the library books or chew up their Zafus.

I think it's time to break out the iron fist. And the alcohol.