Getting a Grammy.

I've decided to start writing songs, with the whole purpose of embarrassing my son.  My first one I came up with has become an instant classic; being sung by others in the family is known as the "Hot Dog Song".  It's a catching little diddy with the lyrics including,  "I wish I had a little hot dog, I'd name him Skinny Joe!"  It's got a distinct Bluesy feel.  Frankly, it's quite awful and can only be sung loudly.  This is perfect when I go to pick up my son at school.  Just perfect.

SuperDaddy had the privilege of demonstrating science experiments all day at the elementary school yesterday.  It was a fantastic show, even though there were no costume changes. There were explosions and bags of water that wouldn't leak with pencils driven through them and so much more!  He was incredible, holding their attention.  I wish science had been that exciting when I was in school, or maybe having a teacher that good looking would have helped?  In any case, Gus was so afraid we'd embarrass him while we were there.  Why he would he think this is beyond me.  We didn't sing the song once during school--just TWICE on the way to the van!  We kept our end of the deal, we behaved during school hours.  The parking lot is fair game!

Today we met with the lady who runs a local preschool.  Go ahead, add her to your prayer list...  We visited during nap time which may be misleading when Cupcake attends her first play group session next week.  She enjoyed saying "babies sleeping!"  "babies napping!" a lot.  There was not much sleeping after we arrived.

She got to feed the fish, and she met some teachers, too. She saw where we sign her in and she got to put her fingerprints on lots of surfaces.  I think she will like learning with the other children.  She sang a song about "making new friends" on the way home.  See?  Song writing is gift in this family!  The only difference being hers sounded cute and mine are horrific.  But mine are fun, and make my son turn colors so I consider that magical in some way.

The school has a discipline plan.  Don't we all?  Something about positive talking, refocusing, time away, writing up a report, and calling home.  It might be time to get caller ID.

To the director's credit, she was my kindergarten teacher a few years back.  Cupcake will just be a refreshing reminder of memories she's glad to revisit or a reminder to find that therapist's number that might come in handy.   All joking aside, honestly, her kindness is so evident and she is so welcoming.  I know that Cupcake will have a wonderful learning experience there.

So, it's been a good day.  I'm feeling inspired. I think I'll go write some more songs.  Something is coming to me about "Flamingos, jell-o, rubber boots, and a game of chess!"  That's bound to be a number one hit!....or at least something that will serenade my precious 3rd grader on his way to his basketball game this Saturday!  I wonder if they will let me sing it before the game sort of like the National Anthem?  I'll bring my own megaphone.  I'm sure they'll be thrilled.

When there's a fork in the road, take it!

Well, when you burn the candle at both ends you end up with pretty much just a mess.  That's where I am. I'm my own melted pool of goey life wax which totally explains the meltdown!  Ha!  We've all been there, when a good cry seems to clear the path of which direction we need to go.  A lack of sleep, a stubborn toddler, and burnt toast that makes my new toaster oven look old where the trio that sent me to the place I needed to be-falling on my knees.  There is nowhere better to be than at the feet of God Almighty.  He already knows we're broken, lost, and in my case also exhausted.  Oh how I love.  I love so many people and things and I'm thankful to have such an encouraging net to catch me.
So,  as I was making it through another day with a clean slate smeared, God reminded me of laughter.  I was in a hurry to get out the door to get Supergus from school and was doing some last minute tidying that we call a "once over" around here.  I grabbed a diaper yet to be used for a human (dolly's first), a shoe, a sock, and a pair of jammies.  Lastly, I hung Cupcake's jammies over the edge of her headboard when they made a "clinking" sound.  Puzzled, I was amazed to find not one but two forks in her footed jammies.  She just smiled.  I chuckled whispering "of course."
So despite the charred oven, the antique dining chair with the shredded seat, a broken ornament, and a child trying to use the curtain as a climbing rope I am relieved. Relieved that two is only one year, that there are only 24 hours in a day, that I can call my mommy when I need to and that I have Jesus Christ as my friend and savior.

Erma, God bless you!

Well, where to begin? It seems with my whirlwind schedule this beloved blog has been shuffled to a lower priority, but I've missed it. I don't know if it was the snippets I caught of Julie and Julia recently or the fact that I woke up living an Erma Bombeck story today that encouraged me to write again. When in the moment you think, I'll never forget any of this, but time betrays us and our memories often get lost in a jumble of events. For whatever reason, I'm anxious to be back.

So, I can't pass over my morning just yet. Cupcake, the independent and stubborn wonder she is, has decided that sleep isn't overly important in increments of more than a couple hours at a time. So, nightly, I am attending and trying to convince her of the importance of rest. She doesn't seem overly concerned that her mother is beginning to run on the fumes of fumes and the new language she has developed is actually a slur from delirium. Anyway, around a quarter to dawn this morning, I got her situated in her high chair with yummy yogurt and the anticipation of watching Elmo turn three again on that DVD we are thankful for. I fall back into bed and my wonderful husband (who deserves more credit than I can ever begin to give!) gets up for the next shift. I crash into a sleep pattern I'm craving and am woken up by an nine year old that might not see ten. "Hey good morning! Look at that! You got sleep until 7:11! Oh and I'm not hungry because it stinks in the pantry. The dog pooped. It's gross." WHAT?! I mumble instructions on doggy-doo cleaning and I'm interrupted by the same student asking "So, I need to brush my hair, where's the brush?" I point toward the bathroom and close my eyes again, not even caring about the mess. Asleep. Lights on! "Good morning!" that nine year old, who will remain nameless, exclaims on his way out of the room. Out of instinct, I say "turn off the fric'-lights!" "Dad!! Mom said "frick!" and lights go out and I sigh. Now, know, cursing is not my thing. And Fric- (not even finished) must have come from a place I forget exists.

And it's not even 7:30 a.m. yet.