Jan. 13th, 2011

lemon_says: (dinosaur)
To say that we are all getting tired of each other would be an understatement. I love my house, but let's be honest: it's 810 square feet. There is nowhere in here that you can't be heard or quickly located by bored children who, in their desperate attempts to find Something To Do, are coming up with games like "Scream If This Hurts."

Pete has fled to the relative harbor of his office, pretending that his departures are noble instead of self-preservation.

We have baked, done Mommy Projects, watched movies, played games, and yesterday Auntie Pip even dragged them around the yard on a sled for an hour while they yelled "Mush!" They are somewhat perturbed that I cannot play the sled dog game. Obviously we aren't sledding anymore; it's become a bit dangerous since everything is an ice slick and if one were to hit the ground it would not be into a fluffy snowdrift. You could separate a shoulder that way. I can't believe I forgot to mention this, but when P fell his shoulder popped and Anya is the one who yanked it back into place. He told her to pull as hard as she could, and don't stop even if Daddy screams. Tough kid, that one. The ER doctor sent his praise at her shoulder-setting abilities.

I realized that even if Anya goes back to school tomorrow, she's out on Monday for the MLK holiday and then I am parent helper on Tuesday at Big Ez's school.

I AM NEVER GOING TO BE ALONE AGAIN. Seriously, I'm starting to panic here. I'm being followed by two incredibly dedicated stalkers who won't even let me go to the bathroom by myself. If I stand up, one of them yells, "Where are you going? Can I come?"

I think I would be less tense if there weren't a little bug in the back of my mind, nibbling on something that seems insignificant. It's barely there, but it has a small voice and big implications.

Beth and I are going to walk the children over to the coffeehouse in a little while, for a change of scenery. I'm fairly confident that this will result in my supervising a bocce game on a frozen court, but I've got my long underwear, and anything is better than intervening in another round of "Can You Hit Me With The Yo-Yo."


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