Well, it’s the end of day two and we’re all still surviving. Last time I checked, we all still had our fingers and toes. Honestly, the kids have been great.
Our ghost, on the other hand…
This morning I had all the kids in the van, ready to go to school on time. We back out of the garage and I go to close the garage door…and no dice. The garage door opener doesn’t respond; the garage light just blinks on and off. I spend the next 10 minutes doing everything I know to do to get the door down. Finally, I just have to leave with it up. We get home and I spend even more time working on it, to no avail. I think one of the “eyes” is messed up or something. I think Casper is getting me back for my shampoo taunts.
But that’s not all. I’m pretty sure I’ve closed the lid to the washing machine at least twice. Yet, when I came home from picking up the kids, it was up again. Casper, this is not the weekend to mess with me. Seriously.
Keeping up with Jack is keeping me on my toes. Turn your back for a second and he’ll get into something. When we were playing outside, the quick little booger kept making a break for the street. Later he was carrying this little ceramic tea pot thing of Abby Kate’s on the kitchen tile. Of course, he dropped it and it broke into about 50 pieces. Let the record show that the floor was sufficiently swept and vacuumed thereafter. Seemed like the adult thing to do.
Today convicted me of two things:
- We should invest heavily in paper-towel stock. Today alone I’ve wiped up milk, water, snot, milk again, peanut butter, dried boogers, and the juice that comes in those little packages of peaches. That’s not even counting the baby wipes we go through.
- Our laundry consumption is simply outrageous. Sunny’s only been gone 36 hours and there’s already a Vesuvius-sized mound of dirty clothes in the laundry room. I would wash them but Sunny has this labyrinthine pre-wash method of clothing segregation that is more complicated than the BCS computer rankings. But at the rate we’re going, we’ll run out of clothes sometime tomorrow. I guess I should just be happy I’m not doing Casper’s laundry, too.
Actually, I’m convicted of one more thing: I’m ready for Sunny to come home.