Mom and Richard also came up for a while on Monday. Sara had gymnastics at 5 and we were running a little late, so I offered to take her friend home after I dropped Sara off at gymnastics.
Robert usually meets us at the gym and takes Tucker home with him. When we pulled up, I didn't see him parked anywhere so I texted him:
Me: Are you at the gym?
Him: No, I'm at home.
Me: Oh, ok. I'm going to take Sara's friend home and then come back and pick up Sara. We'll see you at home after.
Him: So do you want me to come to the gym?
Me: No
I leave to take Sara's friend home, of course I have trouble finding the house since I am without GPS now. We go in to say hi and next thing I know (since I don't wear a watch and left my phone in the car) it's 5:48 and we are about 13 minutes away from Sara.
Uh oh.
I head back to pick up Sara, panicked that I'll be late and she'll think I'm not coming. As Tucker and I pull into the gym, Robert calls. I don't answer because I'm frantic to get to Sara. Well, she's not in the gym. I pick up my phone to call Robert back and tell him that I have lost our daughter, I'm the worst mother ever, and that I need to be flogged.
Guess who answers the phone?
Yep, Sara. And she's fine. No idea whatsoever that I arrived at 6:02.
For whatever reason (and probably because he knows me) Robert headed to the gym anyway and has already picked up Sara. My one legit complaint is that he never listens to me, and now I freakin' don't even have that.
For whatever reason (and probably because he knows me) Robert headed to the gym anyway and has already picked up Sara. My one legit complaint is that he never listens to me, and now I freakin' don't even have that.
Le sigh.
Tuesday was better. The kids and I were going to have a water balloon fight and I couldn't get the nozzle off the garden hose. No problem. I'll just fill the balloons up at the sink.
Only...nope. I bought the self sealing ones. Have you ever tried to tie a knot in those tiny water balloons? No wait...have you ever had man hands and tried to tie a knot in a tiny water balloon? It's surprisingly difficult. At least, it is for me.
So all that happened when I tried to fill them up at the sink was that I got more wet than I would have if we'd actually had the water balloon fight. So then I let the kids try. They didn't have any more luck than I did, but the kitchen pretty much got hosed down (which didn't hurt).
It turned out okay, the kids across the street had water balloons that you could actually fill up.
So all that happened when I tried to fill them up at the sink was that I got more wet than I would have if we'd actually had the water balloon fight. So then I let the kids try. They didn't have any more luck than I did, but the kitchen pretty much got hosed down (which didn't hurt).
It turned out okay, the kids across the street had water balloons that you could actually fill up.
The kids had a "late over" with friends that night, which is like a sleep over, only without the sleeping. Basically, all of the fun, none of the sleepless night or next day grumpiness.
Or is there?
Today Sara was having a rough day. Everything seemed to upset her. Every. Thing. She slept until after 9:30, so I really expected her to wake up well-rested and super happy. At 3, the kids had orthodontic consultations. Those, thankfully, went well, but by the time we got home, I was the enemy.
After a tense dinner, Sara was carrying her plate and glass to the sink and was about to dump milk all over the floor, so I said, "Oops. You're about to spill that" and took the glass from her. So she dropped her plate and fork onto the floor. Accidentally, I'm sure. Shredded cheese went everywhere and she was inconsolable over it. She asked if I'd help her clean it up, and of course I did. I'm picking up individual pieces of finely shredded cheese and trying to put it back on her plate to throw away in the trash can. She's fussing the entire time.
I can't help it anymore and I start to giggle because it's so ridiculous. Could this be hormones? Already? Save me, please.
I go to put some picked-up cheese on the plate only to have her bat at the plate as I let go and the cheese lands on the floor.
S: Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm TRYING to clean up this mess and YOU are just making it worse! I have to do everything around here! No one cares about me! It's NOT FAIR!
Me: Sara, I'm trying to help, but you moved the plate. (I re-pick up the cheese and go to drop it on the plate, and the little imp moves it again.)
Me: Oh for the love of cheezus!
I burst out laughing
Sara: STOP LAUGHING AT ME!
Me: Stop being funny!
Sara: STOP! LAUGHING!
Me: Stop...oh, snap! Are YOU laughing too?
Sara: giggling...NO! It's not FUNNY!!!!!!
Me: I think it iiisssssssss!
Sara: (laughing now) nuh-uh.
This girl. Oh my.
After a tense dinner, Sara was carrying her plate and glass to the sink and was about to dump milk all over the floor, so I said, "Oops. You're about to spill that" and took the glass from her. So she dropped her plate and fork onto the floor. Accidentally, I'm sure. Shredded cheese went everywhere and she was inconsolable over it. She asked if I'd help her clean it up, and of course I did. I'm picking up individual pieces of finely shredded cheese and trying to put it back on her plate to throw away in the trash can. She's fussing the entire time.
I can't help it anymore and I start to giggle because it's so ridiculous. Could this be hormones? Already? Save me, please.
I go to put some picked-up cheese on the plate only to have her bat at the plate as I let go and the cheese lands on the floor.
 |
| Yummy on tacos, horrible to pick up off the floor. |
Me: Sara, I'm trying to help, but you moved the plate. (I re-pick up the cheese and go to drop it on the plate, and the little imp moves it again.)
Me: Oh for the love of cheezus!
I burst out laughing
Sara: STOP LAUGHING AT ME!
Me: Stop being funny!
Sara: STOP! LAUGHING!
Me: Stop...oh, snap! Are YOU laughing too?
Sara: giggling...NO! It's not FUNNY!!!!!!
Me: I think it iiisssssssss!
Sara: (laughing now) nuh-uh.
This girl. Oh my.
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