After years of not wanting to do it, I finally rounded up all the stray socks and underwear that have fallen behind the washer/dryer. (I still didn't want to do it, for the record.)
The rescue effort was quite the operation requiring some pretty specialized equipment. Phillip was also drafted into the process because he has longer arms.
He declined to be photographed wearing his headlamp.
My last pregnancy was a rough, sort of complicated one, but it seems so long ago, almost like it was in another life. I don't think about it much and I thought my kids (especially the younger ones) had mostly forgotten it, too.
Then I walked in on my 4-year-old bringing plastic toy food to her 1-year-old brother who was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. She saw me and explained, "We're playing 'bed rest.'"
Remember the convoluted plan we have to finish the basement (eventually)? We finished the stairs to the garage loft so we can store all our crap up there, and now it's on to Phase 2: cleaning out the basement.
This week I pared down the scrap fabric I'm hoarding to one box (which is probably more than enough for someone who rarely sews and doesn't like it when she does) and got rid of random junk I'd been keeping just in case (but haven't used in the 6 years we've lived here, so out you go.)
We gave away the movie collection that was literally scattered all over the basement floor not being watched ever, and got rid of our high school CD collections. I don't know what I'm going to do if I'm struck by the urge to listen to No Doubt from 1995 now, but I guess I'll survive somehow.
Mystery: we also found a Celine Dion CD down there that both Phillip and I vehemently deny ever purchasing.
Thinking I could use some insights to help my son in school, I picked up a book from the library called That Crumpled Paper Was Due Last Week, written by an academic counselor who noticed that most of her clients were boys who struggled with organization.
Long story short... I lost the book. I guess it's time to consider that he may be suffering from more of a genetic problem than a gender problem.
Registration opened up for this 18-mile trail run through the mountains that Phillip wants to do. Even though he almost died last time, which is generally the body's way of saying "Nope," he wants to give it another shot.
|The children waiting at the finish line in 2014, wondering whether or not they were now orphans.|
The problem: the race is 4 days after the baby's due date. With past pregnancies I've gone into labor as early as 7 days before my due date and as late as 5 days after. So we registered, but with no idea if he'll actually get to run it. Anyone want to place a bet?
After keeping his speech under wraps for the longest time, our toddler turned a corner and is now doing so well that we met with his speech/communications specialist from Early Intervention for the last time this week!
New words are appearing almost every day, my older kids' favorite being "butt" which he yells at the top of his lungs whenever he sees a school bus.
In silly packaging news, I ordered this charcoal pencil for my daughter's art class, which arrived in this box. Cushioned by a mile of air pillows.
|Why yes, that is a single pencil.|