Saturday, February 28, 2009
How Wrong Can You Possibly Go With an Entire Vial of Red Frosting Color?
Well, it's not spectacular, but hopefully it's good enough for a three-year-old.
Meantime, Daddy's been laid low by an unnamed illness. Hopefully he'll feel better in the morning and no one else will fall prey...
Friday, February 20, 2009
And I'm at a loss as to how to celebrate. Isaac would love a Blue's Clues b-day, but we're getting down to the wire on party planning. Jay's usually the one with memorable birthday parties, so I hate to be low-key AGAIN for poor Isaac (which is inevitable at this point), but there it is. Hopefully Uncle Todd will be able to grace us with his presence for at least part of the weekend, and I may be able to find some Blue's Clues stuff if I start now!
Friday, February 13, 2009
No School For You!
The state of North Carolina is encouraging us in our homeschool ambitions. No, nothing political- I strongly believe it's a budget-conservation measure- they've changed the age cut-off for enrollment this year from mid-October to August. Given the fact that Jay's already reading and doing a little writing, I'd say he's very definitely ready for kindergarten, so our options seem to be: try to enroll him in the local classical Christian school, which has kept the October cut-off (they get paid by the student, after all!), or give homeschooling a try. Assuming we go with a pre-packaged curriculum, neither option is cheap, but there's a significant difference (unless we get financial aid from BA). I'm tempted to apply, just because Daniel's needing a lot of attention (1-year-olds will) right now, and I think we'd be in a better position to homeschool in another year. On the other hand, if we take Jay out of a "real" school after a year, he's going to be unhappy, I'm sure.
When tax returns come in, it'll be time to figure this all out. Until then, maybe I can do some research on a homemade curriculum.
Monday, February 09, 2009
One Year, Two Cakes
The pink icing was from Friday's cake, and the devil's food cake was from yesterday
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Where is That Forcefield When I Need It?
Jay came down shortly after bedtime to "use the potty". Naturally, the instant I returned from prayers I'd grabbed the remainder of the Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream Paul had bought me. "Are you eating that ice cream?" the potty-goer asks. "Yep. Use the potty and go back to bed."
Probably five minutes later (maybe ten), I've finished the ice cream, and the evidence is in the kitchen trash. THUD THUD THU-POUND-THU-POUND-POUND-POUND. Whoever it was was coming down the stairs at full speed. Two faces peer around the corner. "Yes?" "Mama, we just wanted to see if you're still eating ice cream." As if. These boys have no idea how quickly a tired footsore Mama can scarf down half a pint of chocolate ice cream with fudge fishes and caramel and marshmallow swirls. Not a clue. "Nope. I'm not eating ice cream now. Go back to bed and stay there."
Moments earlier, listening to what I had thought was one boy bounding down the stairs as loudly and quickly as his little sock- (or jammies-) -clad feet would carry him, it occurred to me that I should cinch up the overflowing kitchen garbage. This was my second and best chance. Instead, I got a Honey Brown Dundee beer.
The horde was soon heard thundering down the stairs again. They surveyed the area in front of me, apparently making a not-so-stealthy attempt to catch me at my sugary debauchery. "What is it?" At this, Isaac was ready to give up the game, and he began to turn back the way he had come. Jay, with his Big Brother craftiness, defiantly raised his 4-year-old chin and said, "Can Isaac have some water?" I sighed inwardly, knowing that I was going to end up giving them water so Jay could drink too much for his almost completely potty-trained subconscious to handle, and worse, I was going to have to get out of the chair. "Where are your cups?"
The oft-repeated charade ensued, my sending them upstairs to find the Cars sippy cups I had seen at their beds yesterday? this morning?, their empty-handed return, their inevitable claims that their cups weren't upstairs, my refutation of their version of the facts as I headed for the kitchen for the disposable sippies. On his way out of the kitchen, Isaac became enthralled at one particular sight by the bathroom door, and I knew even as I approached him that it was too late- he'd go upstairs with a finger coated in chocolate ice cream.
Crazy, crazy boys.