I went over to Chuck's house yesterday morning for Ryker's first day of kindergarten. You know - take pictures, threaten the older brother with life and limb if he doesn't kindly and gently deliver his sibling to a responsible adult after walking to school, high-five the other parent for successfully keeping the child alive long enough to make it to kindergarten...
Prior to doing all of that, I went to find Tugboat. Tuggy, you'll remember, is the boxer-mix that Chuck and I adopted in 2002. She is the sweetest doggy ever, but very old and hobbled now. We are actually going to put her down very soon - so terribly sad but the right thing to do.
I knelt on the ground and hugged her. Jack sat on the floor next to me asking why she had to die, and saying how much he'll miss her and would it be okay to get another cat when Kitty dies. I think this means Chuck has successfully messaged that he is NOT getting another dog after Tuggy.
Ryker came in shortly thereafter, took one look at me and goes "her name is Tugboat." Like I needed an introduction.
I looked up at him and he nodded at me, like "yes, true story" and then I looked over to Jack, who looked baffled and just shook his head at me.
I moved out exactly 38 days prior. Is that long enough for Ryk to completely forget that I EVER lived there? That I had ever met her? Or is that just Ryker's world? I kinda want to live in his head for awhile. How fun would it be in there?
Friday, September 6, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Adventures In Mommyville
Introducing the new blog...wherein I'll continue to share the weird crap my children say, adorable pictures of them, and self-deprecating stories of the foibles in my new journey.
New journey?
I'm not sure who all will be reading this, and if you already know the news then I apologize for the repetition. The reason for the lack of posts on the old blog site, and the reason for creating a new one, is that Chuck and I are getting divorced. The paperwork is almost final, and I moved out almost a month ago. I won't go into details here, but trust that it was a very long, painful decision. It was an outcome that neither of us intended to have happen, but it happened nonetheless.
And so I'm moving into a new chapter, as are the kids.
And I already have a self-deprecating story, complete with weird crap my children said and adorable pictures of them. Lookie there. Some of you read pieces of this on Facebook already.
Last night, I figured out that the air conditioner in our new duplex was not working. I had it set at 55 and the actual INDOOR temp clocked in at 85. Fail.
Around 11:30pm I started to get worried that the kids were too hot. They share a room and Ryker is on the top bunk. I went into their room and carefully touched each of their heads. They both immediately sat bolt upright (meaning they weren't really sleeping at all) and told me they were too hot.
I tried, unsuccessfully, to get my one small fan to cool off their room. Then I had the brilliant idea that we'd move to the basement. Only the basement is completely unfinished. And also not that much cooler. And also we don't have furniture down there, and don't have sleeping bags, and don't have couch cushions on the couches upstairs. So this was a bad idea, basically. But it came out of my mouth, and the kids latched on and thought it was AWESOME.
They grabbed all of their bedding and enthusiastically marched down the stairs. I spread out two small rugs that my mom bought for their as-yet-unmade-desk-areas (ask me how THAT project is going). They flopped down, as did Kitty, and there was no room left for me. I said "where will *I* sleep?" and Ryker pointed at the large stack of broken-down boxes in the corner and said "on the papers." Like that was the most obvious thing EVER. (This kid also thought that I said that "goats" were going to live in the front-hall closet, instead of "coats.")
I took this picture to commemorate my colossal fail:
.JPG)
They really WERE having fun and laughing, and in general acting like very happy little children, but the camera found a way to make them look pitiful. I think we look a little bit like we're fleeing the Nazis. Or, as my mom said, like Refugee Underwear Models (more on Jack's "Underwear Model" nickname in a later post).
I got them back upstairs, into the lower bunk, with a fan on their heads and ice packs clenched to their chests (or on top of their faces, in Ryker's case).
.JPG)
I showed them this picture - Jackson laughed and Ryker said that it looks like Taco Bell. ??
I used the excuse to eat an Italian Ice at midnight and then fell asleep around 1 or 2am, after the kids finally settled back down and went to sleep.
Lesson? Never get worried about how hot your kids are and go check on them. Only bad things can come from that.
New journey?
I'm not sure who all will be reading this, and if you already know the news then I apologize for the repetition. The reason for the lack of posts on the old blog site, and the reason for creating a new one, is that Chuck and I are getting divorced. The paperwork is almost final, and I moved out almost a month ago. I won't go into details here, but trust that it was a very long, painful decision. It was an outcome that neither of us intended to have happen, but it happened nonetheless.
And so I'm moving into a new chapter, as are the kids.
And I already have a self-deprecating story, complete with weird crap my children said and adorable pictures of them. Lookie there. Some of you read pieces of this on Facebook already.
Last night, I figured out that the air conditioner in our new duplex was not working. I had it set at 55 and the actual INDOOR temp clocked in at 85. Fail.
Around 11:30pm I started to get worried that the kids were too hot. They share a room and Ryker is on the top bunk. I went into their room and carefully touched each of their heads. They both immediately sat bolt upright (meaning they weren't really sleeping at all) and told me they were too hot.
I tried, unsuccessfully, to get my one small fan to cool off their room. Then I had the brilliant idea that we'd move to the basement. Only the basement is completely unfinished. And also not that much cooler. And also we don't have furniture down there, and don't have sleeping bags, and don't have couch cushions on the couches upstairs. So this was a bad idea, basically. But it came out of my mouth, and the kids latched on and thought it was AWESOME.
They grabbed all of their bedding and enthusiastically marched down the stairs. I spread out two small rugs that my mom bought for their as-yet-unmade-desk-areas (ask me how THAT project is going). They flopped down, as did Kitty, and there was no room left for me. I said "where will *I* sleep?" and Ryker pointed at the large stack of broken-down boxes in the corner and said "on the papers." Like that was the most obvious thing EVER. (This kid also thought that I said that "goats" were going to live in the front-hall closet, instead of "coats.")
I took this picture to commemorate my colossal fail:
.JPG)
They really WERE having fun and laughing, and in general acting like very happy little children, but the camera found a way to make them look pitiful. I think we look a little bit like we're fleeing the Nazis. Or, as my mom said, like Refugee Underwear Models (more on Jack's "Underwear Model" nickname in a later post).
I got them back upstairs, into the lower bunk, with a fan on their heads and ice packs clenched to their chests (or on top of their faces, in Ryker's case).
.JPG)
I showed them this picture - Jackson laughed and Ryker said that it looks like Taco Bell. ??
I used the excuse to eat an Italian Ice at midnight and then fell asleep around 1 or 2am, after the kids finally settled back down and went to sleep.
Lesson? Never get worried about how hot your kids are and go check on them. Only bad things can come from that.
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