July! July's here! Jon's parents are coming for the weekend, and we are all pumped! We've got some fun plans including peach picking, parades, and pyrotechnics! (I'm a teensy bit proud of that alliteration.)
A third of the summer is wrapping up and it's been a dandy one so far. Great in fact. But... Now let's be honest, my kids all want to sit/play/wrestle/pick-their-noses/climb/whistle/eat/read/fight/craft/sing within a two foot radius of me. Really, the only one I want to be that close to me is the one that weighs less than 14 pounds.
I was reading a couple blogs today, and this totally had me cracking up. It sounded quite a lot like the Mot household. The following was lifted from this blog:
Si: Mom, how much hours is it?
Me: How many hours for what?
Si: No. How. Much. HOURS. Until the thing.
Me: What thing, buddy? You need to give me more than that.
Si: Why do I need to give you something? Just how much hours???
Me: (gives up)
And this:
Me: I need more info, Rubes.
R: 'member? We went that one time? Never-mind.
Me: Just give me some details! I don't like it when you guys never-mind me. Just try again!
R: Well, we like went there and...like...stayed at the house and played with...like...our friends.
Me: Think about what you're saying and try again (simultaneously dies a small soul-death).
R: We went to that one place and like, I mean, sorry, we went there and played with...(trying so hard not to say "like") our friends?
Me: Who? Or where were we? Describe the place! (Miraculously opts not to pick the battle of ending statements with a question mark because Jesus died, rose again, and sits at the right hand of God.)
R: I don't know! We went on a tube in the water.
Me: Melinda's house at the lake?
R: Yes!
Me: Oh. I don't know when we'll go back.
Si: Wait. Go back where???
Let's just say I catch myself saying things like, "You're going to have to do your best to not be annoying on purpose or we'll all lose our minds."
I'm not proud of it.
Let's just say, hypothetically, that my youngest child padlocked the closet where I keep the broom then LOST THE KEY.
Enough about me, how's your summer going? (She asked, brightly.)
Our conversations contain the same quantity of desperate pleas to the Lord for enduring patience, but revolve around earning money, tablets, birthday plans, and but why isn't 8 items enough for a garage sale?? Oh. And the Spy Game. This is Seth's new favorite game when he can't think of what else to do (read 4 to 9 times a day). The object is to sneak up on me without me noticing and pretty much get close enough to touch me or steal something right next to me.
Pros: This is game is quiet. Very quiet.
Cons: This game requires Seth to be constantly near me/in my hair. Constantly.
Grandma and Grandpa, you couldn't be coming at a better time!! I can think of a few people who won't want to leave your side!!
A third of the summer is wrapping up and it's been a dandy one so far. Great in fact. But... Now let's be honest, my kids all want to sit/play/wrestle/pick-their-noses/climb/whistle/eat/read/fight/craft/sing within a two foot radius of me. Really, the only one I want to be that close to me is the one that weighs less than 14 pounds.
I was reading a couple blogs today, and this totally had me cracking up. It sounded quite a lot like the Mot household. The following was lifted from this blog:
Si: Mom, how much hours is it?
Me: How many hours for what?
Si: No. How. Much. HOURS. Until the thing.
Me: What thing, buddy? You need to give me more than that.
Si: Why do I need to give you something? Just how much hours???
Me: (gives up)
And this:
Si: Listen, Mommy! I'm going to say all the numbers but like they start with F. Fun Foo Free Four...Fenty-fix...Fifty-five! Hey, that worked!...Feighty-feven...
Me: (retreats to a happier place around fixteen)
And this:
Ruby: When do we get to go back to that one place?Me: (retreats to a happier place around fixteen)
And this:
Me: I need more info, Rubes.
R: 'member? We went that one time? Never-mind.
Me: Just give me some details! I don't like it when you guys never-mind me. Just try again!
R: Well, we like went there and...like...stayed at the house and played with...like...our friends.
Me: Think about what you're saying and try again (simultaneously dies a small soul-death).
R: We went to that one place and like, I mean, sorry, we went there and played with...(trying so hard not to say "like") our friends?
Me: Who? Or where were we? Describe the place! (Miraculously opts not to pick the battle of ending statements with a question mark because Jesus died, rose again, and sits at the right hand of God.)
R: I don't know! We went on a tube in the water.
Me: Melinda's house at the lake?
R: Yes!
Me: Oh. I don't know when we'll go back.
Si: Wait. Go back where???
Let's just say I catch myself saying things like, "You're going to have to do your best to not be annoying on purpose or we'll all lose our minds."
I'm not proud of it.
Let's just say, hypothetically, that my youngest child padlocked the closet where I keep the broom then LOST THE KEY.
Enough about me, how's your summer going? (She asked, brightly.)
Our conversations contain the same quantity of desperate pleas to the Lord for enduring patience, but revolve around earning money, tablets, birthday plans, and but why isn't 8 items enough for a garage sale?? Oh. And the Spy Game. This is Seth's new favorite game when he can't think of what else to do (read 4 to 9 times a day). The object is to sneak up on me without me noticing and pretty much get close enough to touch me or steal something right next to me.
Pros: This is game is quiet. Very quiet.
Cons: This game requires Seth to be constantly near me/in my hair. Constantly.
Grandma and Grandpa, you couldn't be coming at a better time!! I can think of a few people who won't want to leave your side!!
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