Life is moving along, here, at the troops. School is going well. Homework is endless. My freezer is full of bugs for the 4th grade science project that's due Monday. There's nothing quite like going to get chicken out for dinner and opening a freezer full of plastic containers with bugs in them. She's up to 15, now. Hopefully I won't confuse them with dinner ingredients before Monday.
Volleyball season is in full swing and the nights of both volleyball and football (which aren't quite as bad as the nights we have the first and last of 5 volleyball games. . .) are keeping us tired.
Son #1's chair at the table is still there. Empty. But his bed, dresser, and closet have quickly been taken over by the other boys. That's life. I told him when he comes home, we'll find some space for him. In the meantime, only three boys in that room sure seems less crowded.
Monday, Son #3 got his drivers license. So grateful. Even though the online appointment attempt was a total FAIL (after a month of trying) and we had to get there at 5:20 and stand in line until 7 to be the 8th of 10 drivers tests for that day. Quite an experience.
But he passed and headed off to school by himself in his new used car.
I know some of you have probably made your kids wait to get there licenses. I understand. I do. And I guess if I didn't NEED them to drive so desperately, I might be tempted. But YOU GUYS! I need the help. Big time. And he's a great driver. Not even kidding. He already brought the kids home for me Monday AND Tuesday. Before he came down with a fever on Tuesday night. He's been on the playroom couch with the thieves-filled diffuser next to him ever since.
I think I've written about this before, but when someone gets sick, it makes me miss the days when they were little and would all get sick. I know. Weird. It's just that when they were all little, having them sick made us STOP. Slow down. Stay home. Take a break. Watch movies and drink tea and not answer the phone (well, I don't answer the phone, anyway, but . . . ) and it gave us an excuse for REST.
Oh my heavens.
This momma is tired.
The only problem is, when someone is sick, now? Nothing stops. Most of the kids are old enough to stay home alone, so I have to keep on keeping on. Pick up kids, go to games, run errands, go to workouts. Having someone sick only adds to the list because they need to be taken care of ON TOP of everything else we already have going on.
So I miss those little infirmary days. . . with kids all over the floor on sleeping bags and cartoons and . . . I know. I'm weird. And I've forgotten the miserable part. Sort of.
I will NEVER say I miss the stomach virus. Oh no. Never. I love my essential oils. And I hate the vomit monster.
In the meantime, the kids ARE older and rarely sick. Even more rarely at the same time. So grateful.
I, on the other hand, just keep getting weirder. I say "yellow" when I mean "lemon". I look right at one of the kids and say the wrong name. Or the wrong teacher. Or the wrong WORD. Or mispronounce the right word. Or stutter trying to say ANY word. Or forget why I went out in the garage, or in the boys' room, or pretty much anywhere. It's getting SO bad. I'm telling you.
Our house is covered in yellow (not lemon) post it notes. My phone is full of reminders. And alarms. It's pitiful. My kids write me notes when they need something put in the dryer or baked for school or picked up at Hobby Lobby. They've given up on ONE note. There are usually five. Or more. They write themselves notes, too. To remind me.
The new quirk I seem to have adopted (please don't ask for a complete list, because who has time?) is that I can NOT go to bed without washing my feet. I know, right? Perfectly normal to have to wash your feet before crawling into bed. Totally exhausted. Sigh. Granted I DO walk around barefoot pretty much all of the time I'm at home. And to the mailbox. And down the driveway. And out on the deck.
But regardless of whether or not they ARE dirty, something tells me that I can NOT crawl into that amazingly soft comfy white sheeted bed without clean feet. And if I try to? I can't sleep until I get up and wash them. So very weird. And how in the world am I getting weirder?
My kids would surely agree. Every kid needs to be able to laugh at their mom, right?