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January 28, 2017

Just blame the laundry lady

Yesterday was Friday.  Yippee!  The only week day when I don't typically babysit.  Babysitting is a fine way to work from home.  I usually manage to accomplish a few things.  Additionally I have an excuse to hang outside in nice weather, squeeze in a nap during baby nap-time, be in charge again (my kids are too old and too wise to believe that I'm in charge), and GET PAID.  But, still -it's always great to have a day when I don't have to change diapers, attend library story-time, wipe noses, and prepare additional food for small mouths.

Today I was dead-set on getting a long-overdue project underway.  A project that is so enormous, I'd rather hide from it.  As a middle child -have I mentioned that here before? - I'm committed to preserving memories for ALL of my kids.  In 2010 our camcorder broke a few days before we left for an epic trip to Yellowstone.  I ran out and purchased a new one, so we could record our vacation.

My abused hard drive.
Since late May of 2010, hundreds of digital home video files have been accumulating on the hard drive of our desktop computer.  I take A LOT of video of the kids, particularly on vacation.  My hard drive practically wheezes each time I ask it to open a file.  It's over loaded, busting at the seams, and I fear in jeopardy of crashing.  I'm determined to save the videos to DVDs and delete them from the hard drive.

So yesterday morning, I urged the kids to get themselves ready for school utilizing as little of my energy as possible.  This turned out to be quite the challenge!

Two kids, who didn't have an early practice, a high school schedule, or a primary school bus to catch, ran late.  They usually walk the 4 blocks to school.  They begged me to drive them.  I shook my head.  That is when Reggie called me lazy.  ME!?  The nerve.  I told him he better watch his smart mouth.

You'd think that since this is my 4th son to hit the 11 year old 'I know more than you' phase, I'd be prepared.  My blood boiled.  Since I would do anything to not have to listen to them whine about possibly being late for school, I finally told them to chill out.  I would drive them.  Besides, Mini was having wardrobe issues.

The wardrobe issue hit me smack in the face when I was still skipping around the kitchen unloading the dishwasher and cutting up apple for lunches - enjoying a day off.  I hadn't been called lazy yet.  Mini, who requires more sleep than a newborn baby and we're not sure why, jogged into the kitchen looking panicked.  She was mumbling about her hair sticking out.

Note: old sweats 2 inches smaller in waistband!
Her hair was refusing to lay flat.  Dare I make another comparison to a newborn baby?  We arrive home around 9:30 pm a few nights a week after Irish dancing class.  Mini showers and goes to bed with wet hair.  I've been suggesting that perhaps she should just dive into bed and wake up a few minutes earlier to shower.  Then she would have to walk to school in the cold weather with dripping wet hair.  She owns a hair dryer, but her hair is so thick it takes forever to dry.  Can't sacrifice recious sleeping time.  Since I am practically balding, I have serious envy of both of my girls' hair.  Ugh!

Momentarily this floor was clear!
Anyway her incredibly tight sweatpants totally distracted me from her hair issues.  The girl is a twig, seriously.  Still, there are some articles of clothes that no longer fit no matter how skinny you are.  'Um, there is no way you are wearing those pants to school.  Please tell me you understand that.  Those need to be handed down to Curly!'

She shouted that she couldn't find her new gray Under Armour workout pants:  'I put them in the laundry, and you never washed them!'  She pounded into the bathroom with a squirt bottle to tame her mop.  I pointed out to her that I had washed a million loads of laundry that week.  Never saw her gray track pants.  I bet her that they were buried on the floor of her closet.  She insisted they weren't.

Mini's locker and her buried overnight bag
While she was huffing and puffing around the house, I pondered where the missing pants could be.  Occasionally something gets put in the wrong pile and lands in the wrong kid's closet.  I doubted this happened.  I scooted quickly into the mudroom.  There in her locker was her flowered overnight bag.

Last weekend, she slept over at her cousin's house.  Almost an entire week has passed, and her pants were hiding out in the bag that she tossed in her mudroom locker.  Aha!  I wondered if she bothered to dig her toothbrush out of her bag before she abandoned it in her locker.

That's when I offered to drive them to school . . . I needed more time to gloat.   




 

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