LAST Day at Home

How is it the end of August?  Anyone?  Where have I been all summer?  WHAT'S GOING ON?

Um, I got a job.  A good job.  A full-time job in healthcare instead of government which will be very different and very exciting and will help me grow and introduce me to cool people and get me back into the world of the living!  The team is so awesome, it already has a Maggie!  Except she lost her "e" somewhere along the line, poor Maggi, so people will be able to tell us apart.  Biggest foreseeable challenge, obviously, is writing emails and spelling her name right.  I mean, I already know the advanced spelling of her name but I have major muscle memory when I type, so I'm sure I'll have to go back and correct myself all the time.  But no worries: I have the same issue when I type out the name of the country, France.  Since I spell my sister's name, "Francie," more often, when it comes a moment for the country, I type "F-r-a-n-c-i-e-spacebar-delete-delete-delete-e-spacebar."  That's how my fingers are so in shape.*

I am so incredibly grateful for the new job.  I'll start 10 months to the day since I left my last job and we've got some financial catching up to do.  Plus, I'm starting to become a hermit and a wuss.  We're talking like I need a nap after I go to the grocery store kind of wuss and when people ask me if I can help out with something, I'm trying to come up with a coherent answer while mentally performing a full Scarlett O'Hara faint.  I need smelling salts to get the mail.  It's bad.

Audrey's First Encounter with Contact Lenses

I was super tired last night.  My contacts were super dry and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed, but I could not find my contact lens case.  There was a tower of small candles on the back of the toilet, so I had the presence of mind to realize there was a strong probability that a little girl had found my pretty little lime green contact case and hidden it somewhere that makes sense to her.  I wasn't about to wake her up by looking in the play blender in her play kitchen, so I fumbled around in the bunch of contact cases stacked in our medicine cabinet.

We have a bunch of contact cases stacked in our medicine cabinet because: 

1. They're sold that way because, according to the contact lens case company, you're supposedly supposed to change out your case every month to keep the contact lens case company in business for optimal contact lens care, and 

2. When I bought the six-pack of cases, Aaron and I both wore contacts so it seemed economical.  Then of course within a few months, Aaron was approved for corrective vision surgery and within a few weeks that was done so I have cases to last at least a few more years.  This is much more dumb than economical: I don't need as many contact cases as I have shoes so I bet I'll get careless with them and then find myself needing one and having to buy another six.  

My hand closed in on a familiar shape and emerged victorious with a light blue option.  It's prettier than the lime green, so it will probably be in the play blender soon, but I was exhausted and thankful that I didn't have to go searching for another one.  I took out my contacts and went to bed.

This morning, I opened the Right side and discovered two contacts floating in an excess of contact solution.  I was so tired last night, I put both in one side!  I put the thicker of the two in my right eye, blinked a few times and looked in the mirror.

The me in the mirror blurred and the room spun a little bit.  I blinked to try and de-blurify everything but it didn't work.  The contact felt really thick and uncomfortable which meant that it was not my contact at all.  I had unearthed a time capsule from April that contained only my husband's contacts. HOLY CRAP, this man definitely needed eye surgery.  I threw the contacts in the trash, re-cleaned my contacts, put them in, and got in the shower.  

I set a Saturday morning shower record: I was already rinsing off when the curtain flew out and I heard Audrey's slow "Mommmmmmy?  You in da showwwwooo?"

Audrey loves when I take a shower because she gets to stack the candles and do her make-up and make bouquets of q-tips and identify little treasures that I will have to live without until they reappear in her "titchen" and various purses.  The longer it takes for Audrey to realize I'm in the shower, the less likely it is that I'll have to clean up broken glass or a lotion-covered toilet (she likes to paint).  The shower is a race against time.

I turned off the water, grabbed the towel and smiled down at the little girl who was wearing nothing but a Little Mermaid Pull-up.  "Yep!  I'm ALLLL done my shower!"

"Oh otay, Mommy.  You all done da showoo."  Audrey crashed into disappointment.  With me out, she couldn't claim her forbidden perch on the toilet.  Her eyes searched for something to make the trip worthwhile.  She bent down and stood up, suddenly fixated with something small in her fingers.  "Mom, what's dis?"

"That's Daddy's contact lens.  It's trash."

"It's twaaaaash?"

"Yeah, it's yuck."

She was fascinated with the gooey little disk, still moist with cleaning solution.  Audrey sized it on each of her fingers.  It was sticky, like a sticker, so it went on her chest.  It flipped inside-out, and she caught it by her belly button, noting that it was almost the same size.  Wait!  I could see the wheels turning as she discovered the use for these two little circles that could almost stick to her chest.  She wandered out of my bathroom, holding the contacts close as she tried to place them both where they obviously went.

And that is how my daughter discovered that contact lenses are the perfect size and shape... to cover her nipples.  

Happy Saturday

When I finally got out of bed this morning (my eyelids were glued shut, so I fought the battle until 8:30), Aaron had already watered the yard, done some dishes, and set the kids up to eat their leftover donuts at their small table.  I tried to act like I'd been there the whole time by starting laundry and making coffee so my darling productive husband could sit down and play his new video game.

(Before anyone gets distracted by the relative merit of video games, please note that the main reason I'm even near the computer right now is that I'm looking up how to kill random bosses or whatever in the game.  I think I just used 1992 language to talk about a 2013 video game, but this is my husband's hobby after all and I think interrupting my morning article reading to look up this stuff is enough dedication.  I don't need to learn current terminology.  Plus, I'm a Mom now so I need to stay several years behind on "the lingo" or I would deny my children a full Mom experience.  Or I just used the term "bosses" correctly in which case, YEAH, I'm ON IT.)

And so, back to this morning...

I was making coffee so I could complete the eyelid-ungluing and eat my donut, but was distracted by a little girl who was running back and forth behind me, wearing nothing but Big Girl Underwear with her hair in a messy librarian bun.  She was also screaming "YAY YAY YAY!" while she ran.  This is God's way of seeing if you are really committed to your morning coffee - if you can do it while your eardrums are violently shaking, the angels will make it extra specially delicious.  I pushed the button to start the coffee maker.

"YAY YAY YAY!  Mom I so CITED!"
"I'm excited TOO!  I'm having coffee!  Why are YOU excited?"
"Be-TUZZ!!!  YAY MADIGAN YAY!"
"Oh yay Madigan!  What did Madigan do?"
"I gave her my donut and she ATE IT ALL!  YAY MADIGAN!"

The DJ of my life screeched the excited happy child/morning coffee music to a halt.  My smile disappeared.  "Audrey, let's not feed the dog donuts.  It will give her a tummy ache."

Aaron joined in from the other room: "Audrey!  Do NOT give the dog any food!  ONLY DOG FOOD!"

On the momentum of an "OooooooooTAY," Audrey sprinted down the hall, followed by Madigan... followed by a scream from Sebastian.

I was pouring the coffee when he came in with a devastated look on his face.  "Madigan ate my donut."

It seems that Audrey's method of dog training is especially effective.  We will have to work hard to help our dog unlearn this donut eating trick.

Since you're wondering, no, my coffee was not extra specially delicious this morning: it turns out the angels do not smile on people who allow a two-year-old to run around naked and teach their dog how to eat donuts.  Also I had to share my donut with a very disappointed little boy.

Happy Saturday.

The Shoe Police

Madigan and I were outside for her walk this morning, since she can't use the re-sodded backyard for 30 days (this should be a fun month), and got to talking to my neighbor, Katrina, who walked across the street for a short morning chat.  After about 5 minutes,  my front door opened, and revealed Audrey, wearing nothing but a pull-up and hot pink sneakers.  She pushed her hair out of her face, then casually strolled out, swinging her arms and calling to Madigan.  I didn't even try to convince her to go back inside since Katrina is her favorite person and Audrey's all-but-naked presence only complimented the towel I had worn on my head for a "short walk."  We're classy like that.

Audrey walked right up to Katrina, like she usually does.  We both expected her to put both arms up and ask to be held.  Instead, she looked down and said, loudly and with authority:

"Ms. Trina!  YOU don't have your SHOES on!"