Consume Mass Quantities

This weekend, both sisters and their significant others, plus a Critter, descend upon us for a visit. I am quite gleeful about it, and keep thinking of the upcoming hilarity that will ensue when the three year old Dark Lord and his 4 months younger cousin get together to wreck mayhem upon the coast of NC.

We’re bunking the kids in together, so it’s going to be an all night party, and it’s possible they will NEVER EVER SLEEP, but i figured it’s going to be hilarious, so i’m going to ignore it until im forced to interrupt their first sleepover with the parent’s time honored yell of “BE QUIET AND JUST GO TO SLEEP.” They’ll stay up late, do each other’s hair, and giggle about boys.

I hope they don’t decide to freeze my bra.

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Hey, Boo Boo

We skipped out on a birthday party for a small child this weekend in order to sit around outside on what we optimistically called “a picnic.”

Our small child insisted on carrying the bag of food, which he bonked along the ground endlessly until he said, “Here, Daddy, carry this,” and promptly dropped it. Nothing was too smashed or shaken, although I was glad we had packed tea instead of cokes. We sat ourselves on an old tablecloth that brandus won’t let us get rid of because his parents gave it to us, but he wrinkles his nose at every time I pull out to use. So it’s been serving as a cat bed, and was evidently used at some point in the past as a brownie rest, as where there isn’t cat hair, there are brownie bits permanently stuck to it.

We sat down and ate our food while swatting bugs and watching the child steadfastly ignore his chicken in favor of playing in the bbq sauce with a biscuit. I saw several ants try to make off with a brownie crumb, but that stuff was stuck GOOD. Brandus tried to take Voldemort down to see the clams in the water, which got the kid so excited he ran back and forth between the two of us for a good five minutes before finally giving in to the inevitable and falling on his face. Which is fine, by the way. The stitches he got last week came out on Wednesday, and I only cried a little while he was screaming “I’m scared! I’m scared! MAAMAAAAAAAA!!!.”

Really. Only a little.

This was our first encounter with stitches. I feel good. We made it a solid three years, and the fact I came home the same day to see him throwing himself off of more furniture with abandon didn’t leave me with FEELINGS OF DREAD for the future or anything.

Much.

Stitches

Yeah. Not exactly phased.

But fortunately, falling on his face on our picnic did nothing other than cover him in slime, which is pretty much par for the course when dealing with a three year old.

And when we got back – buggy, itchy, vaguely full from what we managed to eat, and covered in ground in brownie bits – we even managed to smile and say, “we should do this again next week.”

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Happy Mother Valentine’s Day!

At least, that’s what my kid wished me this morning. And “Happy Mother Birthday Day!”

I think he’s a little mixed up. But hey, he gave me a painted styrofoam butterfly with a magnet on the back, so it’s all good.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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A Day in the Life

It’s the weekend, yes, but most days I am entirely too tired to even communicate how crazy my job really is. So for your reading pleasure, here is a brief snippet of how this week went.

names changed to protect my ass.

Teacher:
Get down, M. N, no mouth. H, feet on floor. G, you’re fine. No, S, you may not hold my hand right now. D, pick up these first. G, get DOWN. N, get that out of your mouth, it’s gross. No bubbles, N.

Circle time! Check schedule! No bubbles, N. H, feet on floor. What do you want to sing? Listen! Sit in chair, M. Sit in chair, M. SIT IN CHAIR, M. No bubbles, N! *songs may or may not occur*

Centers! Check schedules! N, feet on floor. H, go jump! W, sand out of mouth-YUCK. M, go potty. It does not hurt my feelings when you flush the toilet angrily, M, so GO POTTY. W, you’re done with sand – spit it out. No bubbles, N. Sand is closed, W! STOP TRYING TO EAT IT.

Art! Check schedules! Don’t eat the playdough, W. M, get the playdough off your head. N, you need to share the playdough toys. G, can you roll it out? D, touch it! Just try! W, stop eating the playdough. D, poke the playdough with your finger. Make a snake, N. WE SIT IN CHAIRS.

Snack! Check schedules! *much encouragement and prompting on my part to have kids communicate what they want to eat* H, sitting or throw away. G, please eat SOMETHING today, ok? D, you can’t have what the others are having, so please stop trying to swipe. H, sitting or throw away. N, you took two bites of your apple and threw it away, no you may not have another.

Oh, thank goodness, it’s recess! CHECK SCHEDULES! Get your vests! STOP OPENING THE DOOR, W. S, go potty. Yes, I mean now. GO POTTY. H, stop kicking me, I have to hold yours AND D’s hands, ok? N, yes, for heaven’s sake, BUBBLES NOW. *release class to playground, spend 1 hour attempting to get M to stop eating acorns, W to stop kicking dirt, N to let someone else blow bubbles every now and then, S to let go of my hand, D and G to down up the stairs and down the slide, and H to STOP KICKING ME*

Time to go insi-GET BACK HERE.

Check schedules! Lunch! *shove food in children’s mouths or watch them throw it on the floor or ignore it and demand something else through hand gestures and whiny noises* W, I know it has sauce on it and that mortally offends you, but I promise you have eaten it before. M, keep your food on your plate. No, you may not trade your half eaten bun for his untouched one, S, but nice try. H, sitting or throw away. G, if I give you the cup shaped like Woody from Toy Story, will you at least drink something?

Check schedules! SLEEP! YAY! *send various kids potty, redirect multiple kids who seem to have forgotten where their mats are, sit on children, ignore the 30 minutes of crying from one child*

*majority of children are asleep or at least contained, attempt to write lesson plans, IEPs, transition goals, newsletters, etc, all the while my poor TA is bodily holding down at least one kid who just wants to throw things or step on other kid’s faces or whatever*

Check schedules! Snack! Want juice, W? Juice? Say juice! No, “here you go,” N, say juice. JUICE. You’ve said it seventeen times today, so I know you can do it. JUICE. Go potty, S. Crying doesn’t bother me, I live to make children cry – so go potty! M, if you don’t want popcorn then throw it away. Sure, you can give it to N. …and you’re going to give it to W? He didn’t even want popcorn, but hey, he’s eating it, so it’s ok with me. No bubbles, N.

CHECK SCHEDULES! GO HOME! *shove backpacks onto tiny shoulders, avoid angry kicking feet of H, wrench bubbles from N’s grasp, convince W to put down the animals he’s carrying, shove them onto buses and COLLAPSE*

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Three!

Day One:
baby 063

Year One:
ONE 019

Year Two:
IMG_1910

Year Three:
catching rollie pollies at the park!

VOLDEMORT IS THREE! BRACE YOURSELVES!

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