Those of you who've followed this blog for a while know that my kids are bookworms to the point of ridiculousness.
I've written blog posts about the warning signs of kids who read too much for their own good, not just once but twice, and you'd think I covered all of them by now. But I have another, brought to you courtesy of my obsessed children: your kid has read so much she's made herself go BLIND.
My worst offender recently failed her school eye exam, and when we went to the eye doctor we found that she's nearsighted in one eye.
And as the American Optometric Association website clearly states halfway through the fourth paragraph from the top: "Individuals who spend considerable time reading... may be more likely to develop myopia."
So there you have it. Conclusive medical proof that my kids are destroying themselves with their bookish ways.
I've been a mom for a while now, and one of the funnest parts about babies getting mobile is watching them crawl into funny places and get stuck.
We didn't have a crawler when we bought our coffee table so we didn't think much of it, but the patented Baby Trap™ shelf on the bottom is my favorite feature.
|Trapping babies since 2010.|
The baby motors over to the coffee table like a heat-seeking missile. Obviously he can't wait to crawl in there, but then he tries to crawl out and can't figure it out to save his life. He cries, I go save him, and he heads right back in again.
So far it hasn't gotten old for either of us yet.
Is there any way I can get an interpreter to understand my 2-year-old? Most of the time he's pretty well-spoken, but every now and then...
We visited an indoor play area the other day. I was watching him jump into the ball pit and then I asked, "What's in that tunnel over there?"
He glanced at the yellow plastic tube and said, "Crack addict." And kept jumping.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand you. What is in there?"
At this point I'm envisioning some depraved vagrant having taken up residence somewhere in the network of plastic tubes and tunnels, and no adult even knows about it because only the kids go up there.
After asking a few more times in a few different ways and getting the same answer, I did what any mom of a toddler does and just gave up.
"Okay," I sighed, "Go up there and see the crack addict, then. Have fun!" (In case you wondered what parenting a fifth child looks like.)
My 2-year-old wandered over to the yellow tube and lifted up the clear plastic strips covering the opening, similar to the ones in a car wash. Holding up two strips in his hand he said "Crack in it!" and disappeared into the tunnel.
OH. Crack in it, not addict.
Tuesday was a snow day, and I decided to be a really great mom. I peeled a million apples and put them in a big stock pot on the stove to boil into homemade applesauce.
When they were soft, I turned off the stove, got everyone in their snow gear, and headed off to a local sledding hill for the next hour for the kids to have the time of their lives.
Or at least I thought I turned off the stove.
I didn't burn the house down, although that would've made an impressive story. But I did torch the apples so badly there was a blackened crust an inch thick at the bottom, and I wasn't even sure I'd be able to salvage the pot. I've never burned anything so badly in all my life. And I have burned some things, you guys.
|What it looks like when you buy, peel, and utterly destroy 10 lbs. of apples.|
So overall, the day was a giant mom win and a giant mom fail. It's how the universe keeps balanced.
I mentioned before (Take #4) how I was having a hard time adjusting to Phillip going on little work trips every month with his new job. Well, I'm pleased to report that I'm moving beyond denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. I think I'm moving into acceptance.
(For those of you who think I'm overreacting to a few days every month, you are completely right. Then again, you try to put 5 kids and a baby to bed by yourself for several nights in a row and then let's talk about having rational feelings.)
The kids and I are finding some fun traditions to look forward to when Phillip goes out of town, namely eating all the things for dinner that he doesn't like. Our two solo nights this week were cereal night and parfait night, both of which Phillip insists aren't "real dinners."
I will tell you that I spent about 5 minutes prepping dinner each night, so that was real enough for me.
When Phillip and I were in high school, our band took a trip to New York and saw Les Misérables on Broadway. Just this week, we rented the 2012 movie version and it was like seeing it for the first time.
Of course there were entire subplots I'd completely forgotten, as often happens to me (in my defense, it has been 19 years since I've even thought about Les Mis.)
But it was also a very different show because as a teen I remember being most emotionally invested in the struggles of the younger characters in love, and that boring Jean Val-whatshisface was just an old guy. Watching it now, I thought the kids were just being melodramatic and it was Jean Valjean who tore my heart into little pieces singing about his daughter and letting her go.
Funny how time changes things.
It's 2017, and I'm really disappointed they haven't invented a computer printer that doesn't break down all the time. Or maybe they have, and I'm too cheap to buy it.
Regardless, ours is constantly having issues and flashing error lights in a completely nonsensical fashion.
My daughter tried to print something for school and came to me saying an error message kept popping up that said: "Problem With The Printer — User Intervention Is Needed."
Woah. This sounds serious. Although staging some kind of intervention might help, because a substance abuse problem would explain a lot of its erratic behavior over the last few years.