1. We're headed out to the parish mission. Dave is encouraging the boys to prepare themselves for Mass. They are singing "Born to be Wild." They know every word.
2. Tim asks me, "Mom, have you ever played mailbox baseball?" He is both shocked and disappointed by my answer.
3. Ainsley pilfered through Dave's wallet and made off with his credit card.
(Can I just admit here and here alone that a teeny part of me chuckled over this? I mean, this kind of thing happens to me time and again, and it all seems so very preventable to other people. I know, I know -- very small minded of me.)
Well, John was making a fort with every cushion we possess and came running with a shiny piece of plastic. Credit card recovered! If only mine turned up so fast.
4. The broken dryer? The one that has had me putting my head in the sand and pretending it's working just fine thankyouverymuch? Turns out someone had switched it to gentle cycle. Yet another problem solved!
5. Temperatures? Eighties and NO HUMIDITY! No doubt the heat will fire one last shot across the bow, but this has been pure bliss. I was actually cold for a fleeting moment Wednesday night.
6. School started Tuesday. Guess when I inventoried the school supply lists? Monday.
I don't plan to make a habit of this, but I have to point out that The Eleventh Hour has its advantages. First, I panicked because the middle school supply list included a few obscure items. Second, I realized that Hurricane Irene had brought bizarre weather our way and that a shock and awe shopping marathon was not an option while tornadoes were a possibility. Third, I scrounged, scrounged, scrounged.
Turns out we had a veritable cornucopia of school supplies in various nooks and crannies. I think I saved us a fortune.
I had to buy four items -- glue, a sturdy Bible, a water color pad, and a protractor. I actually found a protractor tucked away, but, oddly enough, it's pink. How we ended up with a pink protractor, I'm not sure. I would have sent Tim in with a red one, a striped one, even a yellow one. But pink? Not happening.
7. Alert friend Rachel just pointed out that I have a sticker on my sunglasses. You know, the sticker that comes with the sunglasses. Those would be the sunglasses I bought weeks ago. Why haven't I noticed this? Because how often do you pick up your sunglasses while wearing your reading glasses? I probably have cleaned my sunglasses and never even saw the blooming sticker. Oy.
That's all, folks.
2 comments:
Oh Kelly you are funny! Thanks for the laugh. The sticker-on-sunglasses, pink protractor... I can imagine all this happening to me. What I'm wondering is whether these kinds of things will keep occurring once my children are all grown up, or whether it's not actually related to the stresses of raising them. I won't tell you how many times I have left the house for work in my slippers. (Haven't ever made it past the gate, though - yet!)
And: WHAT IS THE ANSWER TO QUESTION NO. 2??
for the record, I have never played mailbox baseball.
My youthful delinquency was limited to prank phone calls, TPing a few houses, and throwing snaowballs at cars (in hindsight, this was more dangerous than I realized).
Boys seem to have more of pull toward destruction.
I'm glad you haven't made it past home in your slippers!
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