We are really, really tired at the Scroggins House. I don’t know that it can be helped when we’ve signed up three kids for one fall sport each, and a handful of other activities to guide their “other education.” We aren’t the family taking every kind of lesson offered, but we are involved. Really involved. I’ve always been a joiner, wanting to be “plugged in” to whatever element of my life I’m in, and now I suppose I’m “plugging the kids in.” But, truly, we actively try to NOT overschedule ourselves. I think the sheer number of three is what is wearing us out this time.
Today, from three seperate members of the Scroggins Clan, there were requests for Family Movie Night on the Cozy Couch. If we can just get through tomorrow, we can circle the wagons Friday night. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
He stuck a pebble in his ear. (Refer to yesterday’s post to make sense of today’s.)
This blog might just turn into documentation of his antics!
My youngest hoodlum: He’s going to make me old before my time.
-He spent three weeks in the hospital when he was one: E. Coli.
-He knocked out a tooth shortly after that.
-He broke his arm when he was two.
-He climbed out of his crib before the broken arm; we heard the THUD from downstairs.
-He doesn’t understand why he can’t ride the Superman at Six Flags or the Zipper at Reunion.
-He can’t wait to play football because he wants to “tackle someone and hit the other players as hard as he can.”
-He never ceases his imaginary warfare-with loud, descriptive sound effects.
-He thinks the jetpacks for the Star Wars costumes in the Halloween costumes will really help him fly.
-He jumped on top of a basketball to “jump higher.” That didn’t work out quite like he thought.
-He shaved his chin last week.
-He tried to run away on Friday.
And that just barely, and I mean barely, scratches the surface. He’s five. We’ve got a long, long road ahead.
It happened after school in the parent pick up line. The Scroggins Hoodlums were waiting on their grandmother for a special after school pick up, and before I knew it or stop it, my kindergartner had his pants down and relieved himself on the front lawn of the school.
Mortified does not even begin to describe the feeling that overtook me. I’m writing this one down and filing it away. Future middle school child of mind, just you wait. Just. You. Wait.
The summer is whizzing by, and although we’ve been busy with some family bonding with relatives, some lake fun here and there, summer camps, and a little waterpark action, the most recent reason for my slacking in the Blogworld was because my husband and I ran away for a few days.
Well, perhaps running away is putting it a bit dramatically, but we did scurry off to Las Vegas last week to spend a few days with some favorite friends. In wandering through the airports, big casinos, and fancy restaurants, I noticed that without the responsibilities of my children around me, I really am a laid back kind of person. Most of the time, I see myself as this neurotic, spastic ball of stress–organized stress, but still–stress. Not stress in the “world is going to end” kind of way, but in more of a “how am I going to get all this crap done in one day” kind of way. And really, stress is the word I use to describe the feeling, but I’ve never really thought that was the right word for the feeling. If you know of what word it is, please let me know. But, out there in the land of not herding cats (or hoodlums in my case), I feel like I have it more together. I can keep up with one bag, one purse, one ticket, and one person no problem!
I guess in theory I can do all of those things, but in reality when I’m not multitasking for multiple people I get so distracted by the absence of a to do list I wind up not paying attention to much of anything–and do things like drop my driver’s license in the airport, forget my wallet in my carry on only to wind up without money at the front of the starbucks line, pack unsensible shoes, binge read, and sleep. A lot.
I might be broken.
We have a Date Week coming up soon for our 15th anniversary. I may need to go to some kind of “taking the spaz out of you” boot camp before we go. At least I’ll have a good date to keep me company.
My cell phone broke today. The very cell phone I bought last Tuesday, no less than six days ago. The cell phone I had before that decided to stop charging, forcing me to make this new purchase. This cell phone, the one that broke today, just stopped making pictures on the screen. I honestly think the Air broke it, but of course my husband does not agree. He keeps citing my cell phone track record–which isn’t great, I admit. I’ve dropped my phone on the pavement–to many times to count. I’ve dropped my phone in water. I’ve spilled water on my phone. I’ve had babies drool all over the plug part of my phone (causing water damage.) I’ve literally driven over my phone. But today, I was just talking around my phone and the screen stopped working. I promise.
I wouldn’t be that upset, but now I have to spend hours and hours and hours in line at the cell phone place replacing my phone and reconfiguring said new phone with all my calendar and contact needs. I hate spending my hours and hours and hours in line and reconfiguring. And, I’m completely addicted to my phone. I literally do not remember what I am supposed to be doing at any given moment in the day unless my phone beeps, dings, or calls me to remind me. I have given my brain to that technological device, and now and scrambling to replace not only the phone, but I guess my brain, too.
I’m almost in panic mode-almost, but not quite. I’m getting close, though. If the cell phone goddesses can’t replace my brain tomorrow, I might just cry–a big, snotty cry, too. It won’t be pretty. How did it come to this??? I know I USED to have a REAL, working brain–not just an electronic one!
Last night our Spring Baseball Season came to an end, much to my son’s dismay…and there was much dismay. When it was apparent that there was no comeback in sight, he broke down on the field–completely heartbroken at the fact that not only was there not going to be good baseball at that moment, but there would be no more baseball for this month. Add the fact that he struck out and was tagged out at first, and let’s just say it was disappointment overload. To combat the disappointment, there was foot stomping, rock throwing, bench bounding, more crying, and I’m almost certain second grade cussing.
This is my sensitive child-the one whose heart is almost identical to my own, and the one who wears that heart on his sleeve, so of course, I understood what he was FEELING. The problem was, he was not showcasing those feelings very well. A few times during the game, my husband looked sternly in my direction telepathically communicating to me that my DNA was not conducive to baseball behavior. So, I knew the “Good Sport Talk” was put directly on my list of Super Fun Monday Night Activities.
So, we had the talk. Throughout the talk I kept thinking that this was one of those things I hadn’t planned on having to teach-I thought good manners and good sportsmanship were a given, literally a part of the Human DNA. But, not so much I guess. I think it was a successful talk, but only the next REALLY disappointing game will tell. I think I will challenge my little competitor to a game of checkers tonight and dominate just to make sure it all really did sink in.
Do all husbands turn up the TV to decimals so high the surrounding counties have surround sound courtesy of us?
I always cite TiVo and the invention of the DVR as something that saved our marriage-the fact that live TV could be PAUSED so that my husband and I could continue a conversation instead of “waiting for the next commercial.” Which, by the way, was never a great plan for marital communication because 1-one or both of us would forget what we were talking about by the next commercial, or 2-I was not impressed by said wait time, and the conversation turned into more of an activity of “how to prioritize.” So, with the invention of the PAUSED TV, our communication was saved, and we are blissfully more happy.
And then, the volume issue arrived.
I like the volume so low I have to practically read lips to know what’s going on. Extreme, I know. But, I like calm. On the other hand, my husband likes to feel as though he is PART OF the television experience, actually IN space, ON the beach, or IN the crime scene And, he’s not the only one. I’ve witnessed the same phenomenon in other husbands.
Plus, I think it gets worse with increasing years.
Is there an invention that I’m not aware of to cure us of the Volume Woes?
I’m assuming every little boy loves matchbox cars as much as mine does. But, does every little boy line them up for a race, ask us all to sing the Star Spangled Banner, and wait for the F-16s to do a fly over before announcing the beginning of the race?
Either we are really patriotic at our house, really into racing, or really into procedures. Whichever it is, I started my morning singing, racing, and coming in second to a Big Race.
Not too shabby.
Spring Break is over, we’ve unpacked, piled the laundry, and tried to remember our daily routine. It’s truly amazing how fast we can adapt to a new environment and schedule. We spent the week in San Antonio, having some intense Mom & Kid Bonding Time while my husband spent the days learning new and improved Work Skills. It was wonderful to get away for a few days, and the kids were SUPER pumped to spent time in a hotel. Honestly, I think we could check in to the Decatur La Quinta and they’d be just as excited. Hotels are the Most Impressive Invention in their eyes, what with the beds in one room, the pool, and the elevators. Either we’ve set the bar pretty low as far as entertainment goes, or I’m just missing something entirely. We took time to visit the Alamo (where my youngest asked if my Dad fought in that Battle-I had a good long laugh at that one!); we took time to swim (in the heated pool!); we took time to go to a Children’s Museum (along with EVERYONE else in San Antonio–maybe Texas!). We went out to dinner in the evenings, and ordered DESERT! Yes, I think we have set that bar pretty low, because this was the cause of MUCH HAPPINESS. In the midst of all this excitement, a miracle happened. I don’t know if it was the black out curtains, the sight seeing, the time change, or the sub arctic thermostat temperature, but everyday (EVERYDAY!) the hoodlums slept until at least 10:00. So, while I stayed up late reading page after page in my latest novel addiction, procrastinating my to do list, I also had the benefit of SLEEPING IN. It’s been almost ten years since I slept after 8:00 am for more than one consecutive morning. I almost didn’t believe the clock when we finally stirred everyday. That might have been the best birthday, Christmas, and Mother’s Day present possible. And now as I write down all the upcoming baseball practices and Youth Fair entries, I’m channeling those days of sleeping in, browsing sights in another city, corralling hoodlums, and hoping it gives me the little umph I need to focus as I wistfully look at the Spring Wildflowers starting to bloom along the road sides. Because, with Spring Break, comes Spring Fever, and mine might just be on the rise.