Tough day at work

Today was rough.

It started out rough, was tough through the middle and didn't get any easier by the end. Most of my days with the kids have highs and lows throughout, but it's been a while since the whole day was just off.

Well, I take that back. We received "The Sword in the Stone" through Netflix today and the kids really enjoyed it. I don't remember ever seeing the whole thing, though parts of it were familiar so I most likely had seen it with my nephews when they were little. As David pointed out, though, it really should be called "The Wacky Adventures of Little Arthur and Merlin" because they mostly just romp around in various animal forms throughout the film and little Arthur doesn't yank old Excalibur until the end of the film. It was cute though, and held Sofia's attention and she's pretty critical of TV and movies in general.

But the rest of the day was like the world was whirling all around me and I was trying to run through molasses. I couldn't keep up with anything, couldn't motivate, couldn't keep my train of thought for more than a minute. Isobel is up frequently during the night and she is only napping in 15-20 minute sessions. Also, she has learned to crawl, stand and climb up a couple stairs, all in the last week, so her little baby world has exploded and no doubt she is going through quite a time. She also won't lie still to let me change her diaper or clothes, so she and I have little patience for one another right now. Despite this difficult stage I am just as smitten as ever with her, so I don't know why I am even complaining about it. With David and Sofia I was always so anxious for them to reach that next developmental stage but I would like Isobel to slow down, even go back a few paces if she could. Not because I don't want to see her grow and change, but because I feel like time slips by too quickly and I can't savor these days enough.

Well, not this day, though. This day can kiss my big butt. I'm glad it's almost over. I'm happy we all got through it, but I'm happy to put it to bed. I'm hoping to wake with renewed energy and enthusiasm and a positive outlook on the day.

Okay, I'll just be happy if I don't get more than six ounces of spit-up on me and that I get to use the bathroom by myself, just once. That would be a really swell day.

Little geeks in the making

I have implemented a daily ritual since beginning homeschooling with the kids and that's our "word of the day". Every day I either think up, or look up a word that the kids wouldn't necessarily learn through day to day life. Some of the words are useful and some are less so. Some are hard to pronounce and they aren't likely to remember them, even though I try and find ways to use the word throughout the day. I'm just trying to give them some idea of how immense the English language is. How you could study a new word everyday and still not learn them all.

I was wondering yesterday if it was a silly thing for me to be doing, but then I overheard Sofia say to Isobel's lullaby Glow Worm toy, "You're just a somniferous little bed time toy, aren't you little guy?" and she had him respond in her best Glow Worm voice (which is similar to a Gremlin's) "I sure am!!"

Well I'll be.

It's not that my preschooler is using the word "somniferous" in a sentence. It's the pure shock of learning that once in a while my kids actually listen to me.

Prodigious, isn't it?

Happy Thanksgiving!

bucket o' baby
Originally uploaded by Ernesto and Kristen Burden.

Put on your best pilgrim hat and enjoy the day! God bless you all!

The secret lives of boys and why I hate doing laundry

Still working through this blasted cold. Baby's got it, kids both had it and now seem to have another one. Hoping and praying this is not a foreshadowing of the upcoming winter season. And today I did laundry and little else. Lots and lots of laundry. I'm not certain where it all came from and I'm pretty sure half of every pair of Isobel's socks fell through some worm hole in the space/time continuum and may have ended up in someone else's washing machine. If you happen to find an assortment of mismatched pink, purple and otherwise very girlie baby socks, they might belong to us.

On a high note, last weekend I reunited with my long lost childhood pal John and his lovely wife Michelle. We met through my cousin Mike when we were wee little children, growing up on the mean streets of pseudo rural Massachusetts. Because my parents always sent me over to my aunt's house (my aunt had two boys and no daughters at the time, so I think she was ok with it) I was always surrounded by my two cousins and their friends. So essentially it was me and a bunch of boys. But Mike and John were fun and always included me in their play or discussions, even if I wasn't up for Dungeons and Dragons or engaging in their "Star Wars" debates. Mostly I was just happy to hang out- a change of pace from my two older sisters. I got an inside glimpse into the life of boys. I learned that they aren't very mysterious and they won't let you win at anything, just because you are a girl. But they WILL insist on being the hero and rescue you during a re-enactment of an episode from "The Hulk".

Well, John and I are no longer kids and it's nice to see that our adult selves aren't too old and crabby just yet, and our memories are not so riddled with holes that we can't reminisce properly. Ernesto, the kids and I all had a great time visiting with them and can't wait to do it again. I meant to write about this sooner but with all the noses to wipe and laundry to do I didn't get to it when I would have liked. Both John and Ernesto beat me to the punch.

And since I haven't give her a plug in a while, Isobel is now crawling with great might and swiftness which means the house is officially unsafe. She has also whacked her noggin on more than one wall or bookshelf or something hard during her newly discovered mobility. I am considering buying her one of these for Christmas.

I know. I'm a terrible mother.

You know it's going to be a long day when...

your baby is up from her first nap of the day by 7:30 AM.

oh
dear
me.

Fire in the lungs and in the hearth

I've got this nasty cold. It's going around, I guess. You know the kind, where you wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the compulsion to swallow constantly, your throat burning all the while. The kind of cough that shakes your ribcage until you run out of breath and all you're left with is a wheeze. Even munching on leftover Halloween candy isn't helping. Imagine that.

Meanwhile the kids are suffering. Which means that I'm serving lackluster meals and snacks and I'm pretty sure no one's hair has been brushed in a while. They are all dressed in day clothes, though, so that's something. The house is a mess and I've got dead plants hanging up outside the house, recent victims of the frost we just had. Will I take them down and throw them out? Probably not for a couple days. I didn't even answer the doorbell when it rang today. The kids were all concerned, saying, "Mommy? Aren't you going to see who it is?"

"Eh," I said, making a shooing motion in the air. "It's probably just someone selling something. If it's important they'll come back." David and Sofia exchange looks as if to say, what's wrong with her?

But in all this there is one thing I managed to do. I got a fire going in the wood stove. I didn't have any newspaper or much in the way of kindling to get it started, but somehow I did it. It's all I've got to show for the day. That and this lame blog post.

cough. wheeze. bleah.

Time takes a step back

This time change is always a hassle for me and the kids. It messes up bedtimes and nap times and mostly it requires me to change a lot of clocks in the house which doesn't help either. I had gotten around to changing the clock on the microwave but didn't bother with the one on the wall of the kitchen because the battery is dying and won't tell the right time no matter how you set it. It has a pendulum which will stop and start on its own as well. Okay, so maybe it's a haunted clock, but I'm getting off topic. Anyway, I didn't reset the two, yes two clocks we have in the bedroom. One I really only bought because it had a white noise machine built into it and it was on sale. I already had an alarm clock in the room.

This morning the baby was up way too early. She's had a cold and once she gets all snorfely she can't get back to sleep, even if it's only 4:45 in the morning. Why should she care what time it is? So I'm up before 5 and then Ernesto gets up shortly after 6. I wonder why he's up so early, but I figure it's because of the time change and don't bother to ask. After about a half hour or so he says he'd better get ready for work. Then he looks at the clock on the microwave and says, "Is that the real time?"
"Yeah, I already set that one back."
He chuckles. "Oh, I thought the ones in the bedroom were right."
"Oh, no. I haven't set those ones yet."

Why on earth would I set the clocks in the bedroom at the correct time when clearly the microwave is the hub of the household? Hasn't he found a pattern in all my random madness yet? There's got to be one there somewhere right??

Perhaps he just now knows I should not be in charge of the clocks. I think I will stick to making sandwiches.

Blogger hates me and other news

thumbkins
Originally uploaded by Ernesto and Kristen Burden.

I can't login to my Blogger account for some reason so I can only post via Flickr which means I have to include a picture with every post. Perhaps it's time to bring ole Milkweed Hill elsewhere...

So we watched "28 Days Later" (or is it weeks?) last night and it was very good and very unsettling. Not much creeps me out in the horror genre anymore but stories of widespread infection are always disturbing. Anyway, that combined with Halloween, and a restless night of sleep left with me with memories of creepy dreams all night long. First there were the "rage" dreams and running away from infected people and then I had really strange dreams about our old realtor who came over to our house to make us sausage, egg and biscuit sandwiches. Also she had seven or so kids, which I don't recall being the case with her. And we lived in a house with a really nice basement and then I wake up...and I'm infected. In fact we're ALL infected.

With colds.
Bleah.

And my basement's not really that cool.
And Blogger still hates me.
And my kids are still doing that thumbs up thing every time we take a picture of them.
And we're probably having tuna casserole tonight. Sorry kids.

Hope your Halloween aftermath is not as frightening as ours.