Just another day

On Tuesday of this week Rebekah and I were laughing about the way it is when you get toward the end of a degree. You approach the start of a new semester with a different question. It's no longer a question of "what will this be like?" or "how will I manage?" It becomes the question of "did classes start today? or yesterday? have I missed it?"

Oh, the foreshaddowing.

On Wednesday morning I was enjoying a bagel as I read the newspaper. I was just into the front section. I always leave my favorite sections for last. I enjoy the paper much more if I end with Baby Blues, Mallard Fillmore, and oh goodness...the strip with Jeremy and his parents. The name escapes me. At any rate, I was enjoying the paper and really enjoying my bagel. I was thinking about how nice it is to have homemade jam. It was toasted perfectly. Chris and the kids were all omletted and pop-tarted up in the other room. It was quiet. I had coffee. It was still hot.

And the phone rang.

My fellow nursing student is on the other end of the line. "What are you doing?" she whispers. I reply with a chipper voice, "reading the paper and eating a bagel. What are you do--" Oh dear. I realize before my sentence is finished that perhaps if she really wanted to know about my breakfast she would have asked in a different tone. It hit me like a ton of bricks that I was not where I was supposed to be.

I was, at that moment, creating a first-impression with my clinical instructor. My clinical instructor who was sitting at the Marion County Health Department with 9 other students. I was already 45 minutes late. Not showered. Teeth not brushed. (Because of course, I had to finish my breakfast before I headed out to the dental appointment that I had scheduled for later in the morning.)

Nice. I really did miss knowing when the first day of class was.

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Also, I had a tough conversation with Sam this week. He was BEGGING me to go over to his friend Master's house. Master is is newest imaginary friend. Newest being third in line after Jonathan and Jennifer. But they're not gone yet. Master is also Jonathan's friend. You might remember that they live in South Harbor.

Anyway, I play along and tell him that I haven't talked to Master's mother and that he won't be able to have a play date tonight.

We go inside a few minutes later and Samuel immediately goes to the toy telephone in the dining room. He punches a few numbers and begins a one-sided conversation. He covers the phone to tell me that he's talking to Master's mom. Apparently, she says it's OK for him to come over.

The poor boy was heartbroken that I still wouldn't let him go. Real tears for an imaginary friend.

A longer phase than expected

Last weekend Samuel informed me while we were driving that I was no longer to call him Sam or Samuel or Sammy. Apparently, his new name is "Cute and Cuddly". He has maintained this for 10 days and has introduced himself to strangers (at the high school band's ice cream social) as such. He gets quite the reaction.

Repurposing furniture

These children are playing with the "swirling sawdust workshop" by little tykes. It's a nice toy. Samuel likes his a lot. He likes it so much that today he decided to see if he could use it for more than just playing with tools. It became a stepstool. He pushed it into his open closet, climbed onto the blue top and cleaned off the tops shelf in his closet and got a new shirt to wear (that he of course put on backwards). He pushed it over to the bed where he climbed onto the blue part and took all the pillows off of the top bunk bed. He pushed it over to the other side of the room and got the trains off of the shelf. You know, the ones that he's not allowed to play with. And he got Chris' childhood toys to play with. Perhaps the tree-climbing and rope-swing swinging have been TOO good for his strength and agility. Maybe tomorrow we should just work puzzles.

Our weekly trip to the library netted an interesting choice. McKenna chose 3 Barbie books and a Dale Earnhardt Jr. biography. Huh. Weird.

Not this time

It's true. Sometimes I get irritable. Irritated. Sometimes I'm not proud of the way that I respond to situations. Sometimes I wish I could push a "do-over" button.

Last week I took the kids to Chick-fil-A and had to bring the food that we planned to eat there home to eat (because McKenna threw up all over the dining room as we waited in line to order our meals. Did I mention that it was cow appreciation day and that the kids and I were all dressed like cows? It was a crazy mess.).

Anyway...we brought our food home. McKenna didn't eat hers and I put the her lemonade in the fridge, thinking that she might want it the next day.

Later that night Samuel waltzed into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and asked if he could have the lemonade.

I CALMLY replied (with no irritated tone whatsoever) that no, he could not have the lemonade.

He swirled around and dramatically left the kitchen swinging his arms and saying, "Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. Mommy's grumpy, grumpy, grumpy..."

Only this time...I WASN'T!

The obvious

We braved the late night and took the kids to see the fireworks (that started about 3 hours after usual bedtime). The kids and their buddies from church were having a grand time with the glo-sticks that we took along for the pre-firework entertainment. After the main show was started, progressing, and entering the finale, Samuel yells with enthusiasm, "IT'S LIKE THE FOURTH OF JULY!!!"

Yes, buddy, it was a lot like that.

Then he finished, "But it's not. It's July 2nd."

??????

Funny little guy

Samuel just cracks me up. All the time. Almost. But definitely at bedtime. Last night he asked me if God was really everywhere.

"Yes", I told him, "God is everywhere all that the same time--cool, huh?"

He replied, "Huh. So, he's at Meijer right now."

***

Last week all the girls in the fam (plus Sam) met in Kokomo for lunch at MacAllister's and to do a "what needs to get transferred to/from South Bend/Noblesville" lunch. It was fabulous.

The night before we left Dad told Sam his nightly "Alex" story. (Alex is really Sam. It's basically an exaggerated recap of the Sam's day's activities.) Alex was going to Kokomo tomorrow...

Samuel gets out of bed.

I put him back in bed. I tell him he needs to go to sleep so that he can be rested to go to Kokomo tomorrow.

"WHAT? ALEX IS GOING TO KOKOMO, TOO!!!"

I left in stitches.

First attempt

Samuel is into everything lately. It doesn't seem like we had this issue with him when he began crawling or with the girls at all. Maybe I was too tired to remember.

Tonight Sam came out of the bathroom sporting an impish grin. I could hardly ask him "what" before he proudly announced, "I shorted my hair!" He then showed me the little blue safety siscors that had early been used to trim thistles by the grill. (We're all about repurposing around here.) He told me that his hair was getting too long so he shorted it.

My response? Yank out the video camera and have him retell the story. For posterity. Of course.