Some Days . . .

like yesterday, I have it all together. I drop Annie off at preschool on time, hit the grocery store with Jemma and get everything on my list. I marinate chicken for dinner and make a spectacular satay to go with it. I run to preschool with Jemma in the jogger and run back with both girls in there and they don't even kill each other on the way home. I make lunch, play with the kids, and put them down for naps. I bake a cake for Jason (!) because he has been craving yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I take the girls to the library and somehow get Annie to exit the dress-up clothes without a meltdown. I grill the chicken and get the entire dinner on the table just as Jason pulls in. I do dishes and clean up the kitchen, put the girls to bed, blog, and read my book before falling asleep at 10:00.

like today, I do not have it together at all. I am cocky from my spectacular day before, so I think it would be a good idea to pack the girls up and run a lot of errands first thing in the morning. It is not a good idea. I have to abandon my half-full cart at Bed Bath and Beyond and totally give up on the idea of Russo's (what was I thinking???) because Jemma will not stay seated in a cart. I waste the morning at Schuler's because it's where I promised Annie we could go after the other two stores. I watch Jemma throw 90% of her food on the floor. I lie down at naptime but don't really sleep, which gives me a headache, and wish that I had done the dishes instead. I take the girls outside after naps, but it is freezing. I think I will sneak in a run before dinner, but then Annie insists on having me put her to bed.

I wonder, what kind of a day will it be tomorrow?

Nooooooo

Jemma has learned a new word; it is "noooooo." She mostly uses it to tell herself not to do something naughty either right before or right after doing that naughty thing. In her high chair at lunch today, throwing string cheese on the floor: "Noo no no no." In the front yard this afternoon, running at top speed for the street: "Noooooo" while shaking head. After opening our laundry chute door and dropping her Robeez down to the basement: "No no noooooo." It comes out sounding very low-pitched, like a fog horn, and apparently has absolutely no effect on her behavior. Hilarious.

The World Was Dying to Know

Just taking a quick break from eating Nutella with a spoon right out of the jar to record the conversation Jason and I just had. We were talking about how a bill I paid (and sent weeks ago) mysteriously just came back to us even though it was a pre-printed address.

Jason: "Maybe it was the postal carrier's first day and he couldn't find the office."

Me: "You know that's my secret fantasy job . . . like if you had a random, rote job that would be so easy and meaningless."

Jason: "What?"

Steph: "Yeah, being a mail carrier. Except I'd probably hate it in torrential downpours. Other than that, though, I'd like just walking around outside from house to house at my own pace with my own thoughts and being satisfied when I was all done for the day."

Jason: "Yeah. My job like that is a Subway Sandwich Artist."

What We Have To Say Today

Jemma says: "Please, no more amoxicillin. Ever."

Jason says: "Look! I'm making meatballs. And I've also decided that my hair looks really awesome when it's long, so I'm growing it out. I am a rock star, after all . . ."

Annie says: "Dad! Pretend it's Easter. So YOU hide the eggs with candy, and then I'll go find them. Mom! I need a white dress. I need a white dress that spins to get married in. And you go get me a white dress that spins. Let's play getting married. I'm going to go to sleep in my bed, and then you and Jemma come in and wake me up and say, "It's morning!" and I'll chase you. Can I make a project? I want to make a project. With glue. And glitter and flowers and markers and paint. What are we having for dinner? I don't like garlic in my meatballs. Or onions. I want a treat. Mom, can I have a treat? Dad, may I please have a treat? If I eat ALL my meatballs and pasta, I will have a treat. What is that in the oven? Is that apple crisp? I want apple crisp."

Steph says: "My children exhaust me. For one moment today, every single dish in my house was clean. And then we made meatballs and apple crisp. So please note the large glass of red wine at my place at the table."

The Rash

Jemma is scheduled to see the doctor this afternoon at 3:10, because I really didn't think I could make it through the weekend with her like this without knowing if something is Really Wrong or just A Little Wrong. See, she broke out in a head-to-toe rash on Tuesday. When she had her shots last week, the nurse told me (post-shots, when I was holding a screaming child and trying to placate her traumatized older sister) that it would be totally normal for her to develop a rash 7-10 days after these shots since one of them was varicella, or the chicken pox vaccine. One week later, said rash appears, and I'm not too worried. On Wednesday, the rash was worse, but she wasn't scratching it at all, so I tried to be a normal mom and remain calm. Yesterday, she looked like she had the measels, stopped eating things she normally eats, and wouldn't let me set her down for a second. I called the pediatrician, where a very nice nurse told me it might be:

a reaction to her MMR shot
a reaction to the varicella
a reaction to the amoxicillin, which she's been on for over a week due to the ear infection

Nothing to be done about any of that, apparently. I was somewhat reassured . . . and then, last night, she was up 4 times, each time more upset than the last. All I could do was rock her and hold her and try to settle her back down so she could get some sleep. Today, she is trying to rip off her clothes and whimpering into our shoulders 99% of the time. So, off we go, probably to be told that there's nothing to be done. Poor Jemma. I just want to make her feel better so she can go back to being her happy, stinker self.

And One More Thing . . .

Reason #487 that I love my neighborhood:

The conversation at the end of my driveway today:

Sarah: "Sorry I look disgusting. I waiting for Matt to come home so I can go running and I haven't showered yet today."

Steph: "Me too! Me too! I haven't showered yet, either. And I'm wearing pigtails in my hair . . . what am I, four years old? I'm so sure."

Shelly, wandering over 5 minutes later: "Sorry I'm gross. I haven't showered today -"

Interrupted by Sarah and Steph: "We know! We haven't showered, either!"

And we're okay with that.

Outdoor Water Park

Remember a few weeks ago, when the girls mischeviously created their little indoor water park in the playroom, and I promised them that they could do it outside when the weather got nicer? Well, the weather is nicer. And what started out as a big bowl of water, some cups, and Annie and Jemma became half the neighborhood's children, soaking wet in our front yard. Good times.