Took my kids to an indoor playplace. You know the kind. Sort of like McDonald's play areas except bigger and with slightly less chance of finding chewed-up chicken nuggets in the ball pit.
I usually don't mind taking my kids here (it's not like I have to get in the ball pit, after all) but this time there were a few flies buzzing around and sitting there for 90 minutes with them landing all over me was like the extra tenth circle in some special extended edition of Dante's Inferno. I was almost happy when we had to leave due to a pants-wetting incident.
For an hour after we got home I was feeling phantom fly legs on me and swatting at myself like a crazy person.
I've never really been a craft person, and neither have my older kids. They sometimes receive a fun "Make Your Own XYZ!" kit from Michael's for their birthday and it goes straight to the Craft Graveyard, which is a shelf in our dining room where those kinds of kits go to die. No one will ever use them.
I know this, yet for some reason we have an entire cabinet stocked with pipe cleaners and glitter glue and stuff, just in case.
But something weird happened: my 4-year-old IS a crafter. I've never done a single craft with her and she's always making random things. I love the self-guided projects that come right out of her 4-year-old mind.
I still need to ask about her latest creation, which I noticed drying on the counter:
|Googly eyes glued to a cut-up Dixie cup shot glass. Your guess is as good as mine.|
There's this bush in our front yard we've been watching out of the corners of our eyes for a few years, just waiting and wondering if we should pronounce it dead.
|We are the Addams family (snap, snap.)|
Originally it was in the flowerbed next to our house, where it served as a land bridge for the ants to damage our wood siding and trim. When a storm came along and halfway uprooted the bush, we took that as a sign to remove it.
We thought we'd try relocating it to a sunny spot near the driveway, where it's been floundering for the last few years producing a few straggly blossoms and leaves at odd times after the growing season is over.
This year nothing at all grew, so I think it's time to call it. Time of death: 2:51 PM. Rest in peace, bush. I'll add you to the long list of plants I've murdered while trying to keep them alive.
I'm also afraid that this week marks the beginning of the end, as far as nursing goes. I have always loved to breastfeed my babies, reasons #1 and #2 being that it's easier and cheaper than formula, but also because it has emotional attachments for me.
I've always loved laying the baby next to me and snuggling during those middle-of-the-night feeds. I like the physical closeness and seeing them looking up at me and then letting go to smile.
For the last 4 months I've been exclusively nursing my baby, but we've been watching his weight drop from the 65th percentile, to the 40th, to the 8th. We've started him on rice cereal and supplementing with a few ounces of formula or expressed milk every day (I've been saving up, knowing that this day was going to come sooner or later.)
I've done both breast and bottle over the last 12 years, and I can definitively say that babies thrive either way, but it's always a little sad for me when I have to give up nursing before I'm ready. I'm not giving it up completely just yet, but it seems like introducing the bottle is always the kiss of death. Our babies say, "Oh, this is fantastically easy! I would MUCH rather eat this way from now on!" and that's that.
At school, my daughter had an assignment to design a utopian society and then answer a bunch of questions about it: what it's like, how it's governed, what types of jobs people have, and so on.
The person in charge of my daughter's utopian society is called the High Librarian and s/he is assisted by the Council of Lower Librarians, and that's about all you need to know about what's important to her.
Any suggestions for pulling out a really stubborn loose tooth? For months, my daughter's tooth has been able to turn almost a complete 360 degrees, and yet it's firmly attached at the same time.
At this point the adult tooth isn't even pushing it out anymore, it's just given up and grown in crooked next to the baby tooth (don't even talk to me about how expensive that's going to be to fix.)
Tying it to a doorknob and slamming it isn't an option, either. My daughter and I would both faint if we tried that. And maybe if we just talked about it.
My son lost a tooth at school, and the nurse gave him this little plastic treasure chest to put it in and take it home. Unfortunately it came open and the tooth fell out who knows where, so I told him to just leave a note for the Tooth Fairy and she'd understand.
He looked at me weird, probably because he already knows the truth about the Tooth Fairy. Even the 4-year-old, who hasn't even lost any teeth yet, announces about three times a day that "the Tooth Fairy is just mom and dad!" but I still make them act like it's real.
If I'm going to go to all the trouble to make sure I have cash on hand, actually remember to go in their room after lights out, and sneak in there like a Ninja trying to avoid stepping on Legos or waking up any of the kids, then they're darn well going to go along with it and act like they're having the most magical childhood of all the childhoods!
Oh, and here's his note, which made me laugh.