1. Our dog is mad at us again and for the life of me I can't figure out why. Are the kids pulling his ears again? Does this particular bag of Iams not meet with the requirements of his delicate canine palate? Is the ground outside too cold/wet/muddy? All I know is that he's shitting in the house again - on our white carpet - and I'm sick of cleaning it up. I don't know whether to smother him with additional affection to make up for whatever got the burr in his ass or to throw him in the garage and let him stew. Either way I wish he spoke English.
2. The other day I was standing in the shower (alone! one of the brightest, most delicious perks of having a house husband is that I can literally lock the door and shower in peace. Years! It's been years since I've showered sans small people!) and anyway, I encountered a spider. A frightening thing directly above my naked self, big enough that I could see it without my glasses, but high enough on the slope of the vaulted ceiling that there was no possible way I'd ever be able to reach it if I tried. And for a flash of a second I thought about turning my shower head to the murder setting and pointing it skyward. I'm not sure exactly what made me think this particular tangent was bloggable, but I guess for that flash of a second I imagined myself as a kid and realized it was something I would've done if I still lived with my parents and wouldn't have had to be the one responsible for repairing the soggy ceiling. Now that I'm a grown-up, I'm only able to enjoy the THOUGHT of drowning a creepy home-invader with my shower head, not the act itself. But still. How cool would that have been?
3. This:
4. We didn't watch the Superbowl. I prefer to think of us a Football-free house. Instead I thought Sunday afternoon would be a great time to get in our weekly grocery shopping. And it was - Wal-Mart was a desert oasis of empty aisles and steeply discounted beer - but we brought the children. Both of them. Which was A Mistake. One it was too late to remedy by the time I realized the folly. (I've been shopping alone since Dave's been home - yet another perk. In fact the only downside of an unemployed husband as far as I can see is the paycheck.) Why is that my kids are perfect angels ALONE, but the second you get the two of them in the store at the same time, they're immediately poking holes in Wonderbread packages and knocking refried beans off the shelves? They can be so calm individually, but together they're annoyingly combustible. I hate to make generalizations, but seriously, you people with only one kid? YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
5. Alex is pretty much reading now, although not independently. What I mean by that is that if you put a book in front of him and help him turn the pages, he'll read it with aplomb and relative ease, but there's no way he'd ever sit down with a book unprompted. It isn't something he particularly enjoys yet. Reading still takes WORK, whereas shooting cardboard boxes in the backyard with his bow and arrow is just plain FUN. And while subtraction still pisses him off (at least the double-digit kind), he can do multiplication in his head. Seeing what's easy for him vs. what causes him to struggle is yet another highlight of parenthood. I wonder how his brain works, how the numbers and letters appear on the pages of his mind, how this result of human reproduction can turn out so different from either of its genetic contributors. Deep thoughts, I know, but I'm convinced all parents have them. At least once a week I have an out-of-body experience where I look at my kid(s) and think, HOLY SHIT, I made that. I know I can't be the only one perpetually in awe.
6. Even more surreal is when I when I look up from my spot on the couch, where I'm sitting and reading a book with my feet tucked up under my butt in the same position my mom always sat to read and I realize that under my loose, stained, zip-front bathrobe I'm wearing the same style of industrial, yet comfortable panties that my mother always wore and I'm drinking my sixth cup of coffee like my mother always drank and it occurs to me that somehow time has skipped forward like a scratched record and I'm the grown-up now.
Dude.
7. Also, Alex can tie his shoes. But not THOSE shoes. ONLY THE GREEN ONES WITH THE EXTRA LONG LACES. Do not mess with a six-year-old shoe-tyer. They can be vicious in their singular frustration.
8. Genoa thinks it's HILARIOUS to copy me. This was cute the first 200 times she did it and admittedly, it's still cute.
9. I'm glad I'm not the only one with a wrong sense of humor! And thank you for not mocking me in my confessional. Y'all will be the first to know when I finally throw my Big Lebowski party. So far all I've got planned is Wii bowling and White Russians, but I'm sure I can come up with more if I let the idea ripen a bit. The Dude will abide until I come up with a guest list.