I pick hubby and stupid dog up from the airport in about three hours. Can't believe it. Not having been on the same continent with him since the end of July I can't help but wonder about the adjustment this time. I don't care how much you love and know someone, it's tough to 'get in synch' again. I'm so happy to have him home, and it's Christmas time here for the boys. I feel melancholy our little adventure has finally come to an end, but so excited to have us back together as a family.
I was feeling all proud of myself yesterday for staying sane until the end. Then I went to B's toddler gym class and talked to one of the girls there who has a little boy B's age. I say girl because I don't think I was ever that young. Wow. And to make me feel even more matronly, she was waiting for me to show up so she could ask some teething advice. Gads. Must find the even higher heels and break out some more sequins. At least I can pretend in my mind that I don't have lots of kids and am approaching 40, thus meaning I MUST be an adult.
Anyway, she and her husband, who is military, recently relocated to Olympia from Fairbanks. They are originally from someplace like Ohio. HER husband just came back from the front after four months. So, here is this little 20-something with her first new child, in a new place, by herself with a husband who has been gone for four months. In combat. On the front line, somewhere he can not disclose because he's in some special force. Thank you God, for once again humbling me back to my proper place. What an inspiration this WOMAN was. I can't imagine holding it together as well as she has in the face of all of that at her age.
Among other humbling experiences, I was watching Oprah's show on Monday night. The one with Jerry Sienfeld's wife who was extolling the virtues of hiding veggie purees in her children's food. Lovely little idea, but I can find other things to do with my Sunday nights than hang out in my kitchen chopping, steaming and pureeing. And have you ever prepared a Butternut Squash? I love 'em - I have a to-die-for recipe from Better Homes and Gardens for a curry soup with it - but come on, the veggie requires super human strength and a hatchet to open. Kind of like eating an artichoke - not something I'd do everyday for fear of starving to death before my teeth can scrape off all the 'meat' for a meal.
Plus I like to wield my extreme dictatorship in my household. "That's okay, Zach, you don't have to eat your broccoli. But no dessert. It's your choice." (Insert evil laugh.)
So, as I was listing reasons why the veggie puree thing would be a nice fad in my house, but never stick because I am lazy at heart, the conversation turned to other crazy things parents do to mess up their children's lives. Like watching whatever they want on TV, or watching it forever, or going to sleep with a TV turned on in their rooms.
Then, I went up to bed and checked in on my little cherubs. What did I find? My two oldest playing their gameboy things at 10 PM! Yes, I slipped and didn't confiscate the horrible little devices before they went to bed. My bad. Once again, humbled.
But what a great opportunity to drive them CRAZY all day. "What Zach, you're tired? It can't be because you were PLAYING YOUR GAMEBOY UNTIL 10 PM can it?"
Last couple little stories before I wrench sleeping babes from their beds and thrust them into society. The same wicked kid who was battling Pokemons in to the wee hours had a new teacher in his class yesterday, so they had to wear nametags. He put 'Zach Effron' (did I spell that right? The current 'hottie' on the teen scene thanks to Highschool Musical 2.) on his name tag and dared his freind Justin to put 'Justin Timberlake' on his. Oh, poor teachers. And this is in a Catholic school in the second grade. The teach innocently called him Zach Effron for the time she was there.
Then, as I was helping out in my Kindergartner's class, a cute little girl came up to him and gave him a little card she had made with fabric flowers glued to it. I was explaining this to his grandmother that night and I asked him what the girl's name was.
He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know. I was either Mia or Maria."
"Oh yeah," I said. "They are twins."
He thought a minute and said, "Mia has fangs. Maria burps a lot. That's how I can tell them apart."
I had to explain to grandma that the girls were much cuter than described by my six year old, but knowing what little boys like at this age, perhaps these were the virtues he was looking for in a woman at the moment.