Land Sakes Alive

I have no pictures to post. I can't find either of the chargers for the digital camera batteries, though I know they're around here somewhere. (Don't freak out, Trey. I'll dig them out eventually.) Both of my camera batteries are now dead, and let me tell you, I have missed some quality opportunities for pictures this week. Trey is in Austin until tomorrow night, and for some reason, this week has been especially challenging in his absence. Let us take a few moments to ponder why.

1. Lilly asks me to pour her a glass of orange juice. I'm busy trying to get her dear brother to take a nap. Said brother is exhausted and not feeling particularly cooperative (a common theme this week) so it takes longer than usual. Lil gets impatient and gets a large box of clementines from the counter. She then pushes her little chair over to that counter and proceeds to peel all but 5 of those 20 or so clementines to make her OWN juice. I've got to give her credit; she managed to fill a small glass. However comma there were peels all over the counter, on the floor, in the sink (and in the disposal, which I had to fish out so as to avoid a hefty bill from our plumber), and stickiness like you wouldn't believe. Lil helped by picking up the peels off the counter and the floor, which was helpful in a five-year-old sort of way. I contemplated the appropriateness of pouring a glass of wine at 2 pm on a Tuesday, but it was all for naught. I was out of chardonnay anyway.

2. Lil and Reid decide to "make" a tree. Do you know how to make a tree? I didn't until yesterday. You see, what you do is get a dirty bucket from your swingset and bring it inside while your mom is changing your sheets and making your room nice for you. Because she (incorrectly) assumes you're playing nicely outside (no screaming means playing nicely), she thinks she can take five or ten minutes to provide you with the clean linens you so deserve. While she's busy, bring that bucket into the kitchen and use the same chair your sister used to make orange juice at the counter. Put that dirt-filled bucket in the sink, turn the water on, and VOILA! Mud! All over the place! Now climb back down, slosh some muddy water around, put the bucket down on the rug by the back door, use your muddy paws to open the door, and deliver the bucket back to your sister. Do that again until your mother catches you and does her best not to tar and feather you. Proudly show her that you used branches and flowers from her planter (that you've been instructed not to pick) with all that mud to make a lovely new tree!

3. Remember how you made your mom so mad because you got her kitchen dirty? Well, she forgives you and is out watching you ride your bike at 8 am the next morning. She goes in an hour later to shower because you're about out of food and a trip to the store is in order. Again, you're playing nicely in the backyard. A five-minute shower is no big deal; your mom gets out and you're still playing nicely. Then she decides to talk on the phone for a spell (that would be you, Dailey) when she notices you're both playing in mud. You tire of it after a while and come up to the back door to be let in. You bang on the back door, which is now covered in dried mud. Even though she makes you get naked on the back porch, you still leave a trail on your way to the shower.

(Imagine the muddy laundry piling up in my basement. I shudder just thinking of it.)

4. I decide this is a great week to clean all the junk out of the house. The problem, however, is that what I think is junk is also their (rediscovered) treasure. Things that are put in the goodwill box mysteriously find their way back into their rooms. Clearly not making much headway with that project.

5. I make a very poor decision involving the one set of car keys I have. One very dear 19-month-old wants to carry them around the house; unfortunately I don't see any problem with that. Three hours of searching later, I discover them under my living room couch. Thank you again, St Anthony.

6. We're down to one Thomas (as in the train) placemat. WWIII is about to go down at the dining room table at every meal these days. Who knew a $3 placemat could stir up so much drama and so many tears? Why is the princess placemat no longer held in high regard? Dora? Mickey Mouse?

7. One of the dogs throws up. Seems she doesn't like the new no-byproducts vegetarian dog food I bought. That's one way to let me know. At least it's the $20 rug that already has mud on it. The other dog eats all the cat food.

8. The cat disappears and I'm having to stay up late waiting for his furry fanny to reappear. (He's an indoor cat. He is not indoors because someone who shall remain nameless thought he wanted to go out and play.)

9. The dishwasher's time at 1307 Duplin Rd has come to an untimely end.

And there's more, but I'm tired of throwing myself a big pity party. Furthermore, I want to go to bed. I assure you the pictures will return once I dig myself out of this muddy hole, charge my camera batteries, and buy a new dishwasher. Hopefully that will be tomorrow.