I guess it's my blog, my rules. So I'm going ot say yes.
We are t-minus one week until my daycare closes. It's 9:53am. The children are already fighting. Nobody has hit anyone yet, though. I'd like to stay positive, but I think this means they're conserving their energy for the afternoon pummelling session.
I will be bribing them with popcorn and a movie later. It's my patented method: Please Watch a Movie While I Drink Heavily(tm).
Ok, I'm not really going to drink heavily. I don't drink at all, actually. Being an alcoholic took some of the fun out of that harmless activity. I can't hide sherry all over the house like my 1950s counterparts and take sips in between doing the dishes and getting all gussied up for when my husband comes home. Does any at-home parent actually get done up before their partner walks in the door? Wouldn't he see my crazy-I'm-going-to-implode-or-lie-in-front-of-a-Boeing 747-after-the-day-I've-had eyes all the more if I accentuate them? I get done up on weekends. Or when I'm going to the mall. And if he happens to be around I feel very happy for him.
I just found a playdough recipe. Daycare boy has asked me repeatedly if he can play with messy, colourful gunk on the table. Why not? If little hands are busy at the Pet Hair Salon cutting Fluffy's tangled mane, no fists are flying. I think it's worth the effort!
Positive note: I found the stash of baby clothes I put away. We weren't going to have more children, but I kept them for potential boy grandbabies. My poor friend, whom we will call Thaco, had to listen to me explain all the ways in which I came about said clothing to begin with. Because, you know, with three-year-old twins, she has nothing better to do. I'm glad I can give her something important with which to occupy her time. I'm a good friend.
We are t-minus one week until my daycare closes. It's 9:53am. The children are already fighting. Nobody has hit anyone yet, though. I'd like to stay positive, but I think this means they're conserving their energy for the afternoon pummelling session.
I will be bribing them with popcorn and a movie later. It's my patented method: Please Watch a Movie While I Drink Heavily(tm).
Ok, I'm not really going to drink heavily. I don't drink at all, actually. Being an alcoholic took some of the fun out of that harmless activity. I can't hide sherry all over the house like my 1950s counterparts and take sips in between doing the dishes and getting all gussied up for when my husband comes home. Does any at-home parent actually get done up before their partner walks in the door? Wouldn't he see my crazy-I'm-going-to-implode-or-lie-in-front-of-a-Boeing 747-after-the-day-I've-had eyes all the more if I accentuate them? I get done up on weekends. Or when I'm going to the mall. And if he happens to be around I feel very happy for him.
I just found a playdough recipe. Daycare boy has asked me repeatedly if he can play with messy, colourful gunk on the table. Why not? If little hands are busy at the Pet Hair Salon cutting Fluffy's tangled mane, no fists are flying. I think it's worth the effort!
Positive note: I found the stash of baby clothes I put away. We weren't going to have more children, but I kept them for potential boy grandbabies. My poor friend, whom we will call Thaco, had to listen to me explain all the ways in which I came about said clothing to begin with. Because, you know, with three-year-old twins, she has nothing better to do. I'm glad I can give her something important with which to occupy her time. I'm a good friend.