• Woke up to the sound of Skye screaming in her room at 5:15 a.m. Thought to myself, “Oh, well, at least I’ll have plenty of time to get ready and not have to stress about being late.” I, of course, did not factor in the kind of mood that Skye is in when she wakes up at 5:15 in the morning (and I have Jabiz to thank for passing on his Surly Morning DNA to both of our kids. BOTH OF THEM. Not even one takes after me and is able to handle the early morning with grace and dignity. Thanks, buddy, for creating little morning monsters and then ditching out on me…appreciate that). So, cue to the scene of me sitting on the kitchen floor with a sniffling, whining Skyelar clutching her cup of milk in one hand and my shirt in the other. Needless to say, we ran late. Again.
• On my way out of the house, I was in such a hurry that I accidentally slammed my hand in the door, taking skin off of two fingers. Tears. Mock cursing. More tears. More mock cursing. Moving on.
• Went over Kaia’s Wish List for Book Week. You see, yesterday her class went to the book sellers’ stalls to make their Wish Lists of books that they want to buy tomorrow so that parents know approximately how much money to send with them. Kaia’s list consisted of a lot of Strawberry Shortcake books. A lot. Pretty much every Strawberry Shortcake book every written. She then expressed her grave concern (and this was said with the most serious face that a 4-year-old can muster) that all of the Strawberry Shortcake books will be gone by the time her class goes tomorrow, because all of the other girls had put them on their lists, as well. Fast forward to me wandering over to the stalls during my morning break to check out the selection and discovering to my utter horror that THERE WERE NO STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE BOOKS LEFT. None. At all. Oh. My. God. Inquired whether there would be more brought tomorrow, and informed the book seller that NO, sticker books are NOT the same thing and are unacceptable, and YES, you should definitely try and find more stock. You just do that.
I’m pretty sure that you can already guess that I spent the rest of the day convinced that the lack of Strawberry Shortcake books would result in Kaia’s inevitable souring on book fairs and would start her ugly downward spiral into complete disinterest in reading and illiteracy.
I have no idea how I manage to function in normal society everyday, either. But I do.
• Took a trip to grocery store after school because
I was too scared to NOT go home with the new C batteries that Skye’s Snugglekins monkey hammock cradle-thingy needed in order to make her stop screaming. Enjoyed a semi-successful outing, during which Kaia only asked for 38 things as opposed to her usual 67 things. On her list of Things She Absolutely, Positively Could Not Live Without Today were cookies (though my daughter calls them “biscuits”, because in her world, foreigners outnumber Americans ten to one), a flashlight, unrecognizable sugary orange liquid trying to pass itself off a yogurt, popcorn, car seat covers (???), and Blue-Tack. My girl loves herself some Blue-Tack, and that she DOES get that from me. Along with her obsession with Post-its. What can I say? Makes me proud.
• Learned a valuable lesson from last night and made plain spaghetti for dinner. Plain. Just spaghetti and sauce. Why? Because I just needed my kids to eat something without acting like I was serving up a big old pot full of toxic sludge. Especially since when I opened Kaia’s lunchbox to clean it, I saw that everything was still exactly as it was when I packed it last night, with the exception of the M&Ms from her trail mix. Yep, that’s right- the only thing she ate ALL DAY LONG was candy. And THAT, my friends, is known as Good Parenting.
• Was in the midst of cleaning up after dinner when I suddenly realized that Skye had been quiet and out of the room for a while. Now, I know that I’ve already described her Community Monkey habits, so I immediately headed for the bathroom. I found her standing in the middle of the room with a guilty look on her face, but nothing in her hands. Noticed a very familiar smell in the air, and then slipped on a waxy coating on the floor.
Why, you may ask? Why, because my little monkey had taken my overpriced, American-brand deodorant and drawn all over the floor with it, like a giant, freesia-scented crayon that would no doubt offer the floor 24-hour wetness protection. The deodorant stick was shoved into a drawer, just a sad little nub of its former self.
• Decided that it was time to put the kids to bed.