It’s finally happened. I’ve gone cuckoo.


You know, I always have the best of intentions in getting time to write these things. And always something comes up. Like a couple of weeks ago? When I took a fancy picture of my wrapped up hand and said “STORY COMING SOON!”? Well.. I lied. Actually I didn’t, but the story couldn’t be written because I didn’t think about the fact that I couldn’t type. (Oops).

SO! NOW I CAN TYPE AGAIN! YAY!

Turns out, I did a bunch of stuff that week, went a little overboard in my cross training, and moved a washer. 3am and a $40 cab ride to the ER… sprained it. The official term is “sinovitis” or some such creation meaning “swollen joint”. Let me tell you. Typing with one hand is absolutely infuriating, and tying tea bags closed with 2 fingers and no thumb because you can’t actually touch your thumb and finger together because of the splint… is only slightly less so. So you see. I did have the best of intentions. And well, it was just out of my control. (I do have a functional joint now. Sinovitus can kiss my a… never mind.)

You know what else is infuriating? Running in snow. It’s basically impossible. Despite that, my sister and I managed to do sprints on Saturday and made up a kilometer pace (which is obviously not a “maintained” pace) of 3:55/km – 4:30/km. Kept that up for 3km despite the awful weather we’ve had. I’m optimistic despite having missed almost a full month of training time.

On a more amusing note, I went sledding with the boys and my timid I CAN’T POSSIBLY WASH MY HAIR BECAUSE I MIGHT GET WATER IN MY FACE, I DON’T WANT TO BECAUSE I MIGHT HURT MYSELF, I CAN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO PUT MY FOOT IN MY PANTS DESPITE DOING IT EVERY DAY FOR EVERYONE ELSE children… THREW themselves down the steepest hill for 2 solid hours. Much to my delight of course. (We had the “can’t take my feet OUT of my pants” problem when we got home.)

Also, I win the Terrible Party Planner award twice this year. It’s been so busy that I only planned a tiny gathering for Littlest’s birthday. To be fair, he seemed gloriously content to have the highlight of his day be picking out his very own flavour of ice cream after dinner, so it must not have been that bad. But, that brings us to Biggest. It’s a week and a half away to his birthday, and I have yet to figure out what we’re doing. Honestly, it’s the school thing that’s throwing me off. It’s really three options at this point.

#1: We invite ALL the kids from his class to something big (and hopefully casual).

#2: We take a couple of children for something little (and figure out how not to disappoint the rest of the class).

#3: We do a family only birthday party.

I really can’t decide. I know there’s a couple of kids he’d invite, but we don’t have the space for more than a couple, and there’s the matter of him being really well liked with almost all of the kids, so inevitably if we don’t invite someone, we will break a couple of 5 year old sized hearts. And I REALLY don’t wanna be THAT parent. I think he’d be just as happy to enjoy bowling with his family, but having asked him about what he’d like… his answers seem to vary significantly. So I might just have to put my two cents in and make the decision for him. Also, I think it’s possible that he tunes me out after the first 2 words, so I can’t really be sure he understands the nature of my request. TOUGH LUCK KID! MOMMA’S GONNA GO BONKERS SOON, SO SHE’S MAKING THE DECISON! *whew* I feel better.

Unless I’ve gone bonkers already. Which I may well have. Having adjusted my schedule with the running and everything, I have successfully ENJOYED getting up at 5:30 on weekdays. That alone should make me bonkers. In fact, let’s INVESTIGATE. Why would 5:30 leave me less bonkers than usual?

Oh, what’s that you say? LESS WHINING? Oh. Well I guess that’s not so bad.

TIME FOR TEA (That reads coffee more often lately, but rest assured, I drink a CRAPTON of tea the rest of the day. How else would I remain standing?) Really that needs no further clarification.

A MOMENT TO HEAR THE BIRDS BEFORE THE INEVITABLE “I CAN’T PUT MY PANTS ON, MY FEET ARE LOST!”? Well we definitely have to keep time for that. It’s hard finding feet. Especially when you’ve somehow managed to misplace the aforementioned coffee and it’s gone cold… Ever tried to find a pair of toes in pants without being able to see properly? (Just a heads up, it’s nigh impossible. I’d suggest leaving the feet lost to see if they find themselves while said coffee is ingested.)

Fair enough peeps, that is why I labour intensively to scrape myself off my mattress at 5:30am.

I should note, actually, before I get further sidetracked, that this pants thing is really wild. It seems that Littlest absolutely cannot STAND putting pants on. Everything is fine until he has to get dressed. Then suddenly, he has no strength to pull anything off, he pouts, he whines, he cries, he fusses, he sits on his bed and mopes, he puts himself for a nap, he hides in his closet, the list goes ON AND ON AND ON. So much so that I have to send him to get dressed a full HOUR before we have to go so he can be assured of leaving the house in something other than his skivvies. I feel as though daycare might frown on my bringing him stark raving naked. It’s actually such a thing that he put on shorts once (since he refused pants) and I suggested he go out on our deck (in the snow) to see if it was an appropriate choice. He went out, stood on our freezing cold deck, stared me dead in the face and said “It’s GREAT MOMMY, I’M WARM”. And promptly walked back in. It should be noted though, he did request snow pants for the journey.

Biggest has been quite the talk lately also. He’s got really exceptional math skills, according to his teacher, and can add 1’s, 2’s, and 10’s in his head. Crazy child, he certainly didn’t get that from me. (I hate math.) On another note, he was with Mr. Handler and came to see me at work one day, and, after discovering that I wasn’t coming, said “OK Mommy! I’ll keep you in my heart until you get home! See you soon!” And walked out the door. Squeeeeee! (He sure throws one heck of a tantrum to offset the sheer adorableness of it all.)

 

And with that, I think I’ve confirmed my absolute lunacy, and will now commence cleaning of the house.

Mrs. Handler.

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