I think Chris is even more excited than I am about Mother’s Day. That’s because, in Colorado, it is also the grandest of all state holidays — Planting Flowers Outside Because There’s a Fairly Decent Chance They Will No Longer Get Snowed On Day.
I promise we are not a bunch of lushes (recent blog posts notwithstanding) but we did happen to buy a house with a wet bar in the basement. And Chris does like to mix himself an occasional cocktail when he gets home from work at night (I know…I’m supposed to have it waiting for him along with his newspaper, pipe and a few pleasant, non-stressful conversation topics. Add it to the list.) But about six weeks ago, I started feeling the need to see stuff grow. I bought an indoor planting tray, about 20 different kinds of seeds and a giant bag of dirt. And since it was still too cold outside to actually plant them out there, I invaded the Wet Bar Fortress of Solitude and converted it into a potting station. After I potted everything, I crammed stuff onto every windowsill and available space (above four feet high — I learned that the hard way when Caleb dumped an entire tray of seedlings on the carpet) near a natural light source. When it’s nice out, I’ve been spending about ten minutes moving everything outside because the plants like it out there. When it snows, I run out in my bathrobe with my bare feet shoved into Chris’s shoes to move it all back inside.
So this weekend, I shall move all my vegetables and flowers outside, hopefully for the last time. But if they all die, I’m never going to hear the end of it.
Happy Flower Day
Alexis
When she is good she is very, very good and when she is bad she makes me want a drink before church on Sunday morning.
This morning she didn’t want to get dressed. She finally agreed to get dressed but didn’t want any help. When I went to check on her five minutes later, she was laying in bed with her blanket on and when I asked if she was okay, she gave the lamest fake cough I’ve ever heard. She wanted to wear a T-shirt when I asked her to wear a dress. When I agreed to the T-shirt, she wanted a dress. When it was time to get in the car to go to church, she changed her mind about her dress and wanted a different one. She told me to wear my brown boots instead of my black boots and when I looked like I might not, she started to whimper (I will admit I caved on that one — it’s very possible she was right).
When we got in the car, she didn’t like the music. Any of it. Then she yelled at me for alternately snapping, clapping and bobbing my head. So I did all three.
If she’s this bad now, it can only get better, right? She has nowhere to go from here and will grow to be a happy and well-rounded teenager with nary a trouble? Right? Right?
Don’t Worry About Me, I’m Used to Suffering
It’s Day Three of my fight against strep throat and I seem to finally be winning (not whining, winning. Shut up.) I don’t know how it is that I can pop out three babies on the large side of average with relatively little fuss, but a case of strep makes me cranky and, occasionally, a little weepy. I suppose it’s because strep messes with my ability to eat and nothing ought to interfere with my eating.
I felt good enough today to take the kids hiking. It’s supposed to rain over the next few days so I figured I’d better get everyone out of the house today. People tell me I’m so good about taking the kids hiking and having them play outside but what they don’t seem to realize is that it’s a supreme form of laziness. If no one’s in my house, no one’s messing with my stuff. And taking a 6 and 3-year old hiking isn’t really physically demanding. So I wear them out and then they come home and sit comatose in front of the TV and everyone’s happy.
While we were hiking, I suggested we sing a few songs. It helps 1.) to keep the kids from realizing exactly how far I’m forcing them on their death march and 2.) to alert the bears and mountains lions so that they will hopefully run away. This is what The Experts advise. If I were a hungry bear or mountain lion, I might perhaps run toward the sound of a tasty snack but apparently they tend to do the opposite. So we were singing. I wanted to sing old Girl Scout camp songs I learned in sixth grade. Timothy and Alexis chose instead to sing “Heartbreaker, ” and “Don’t You Want Me, Baby?” So maybe that’s what scared the animals into hiding.
On the way home, we passed a cute little antique store in the mountains. I knew we were in no shape to go in. But I also know that I’m not getting up there again any time soon. So I made everyone get out and after various threats and a very long stare at the two kids capable of doing the most damage, we went in. Alexis had gotten her pants really dirty and was wearing a long sweater that arguably covered her but kind of made her look like a flasher. Caleb had had an accident and was wearing only a T-shirt and diaper (I’d like to say that’s not how he normally dresses, but…) and Timothy just looked like a six-year old boy who had been hiking. ‘Nuff said. To be fair, they did last almost 20 min before trying to play hide and seek amongst the overly stocked tchotchkes. The lady behind the counter kept staring at me until I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. And when I checked out, I apologized for the noise and she said, rather weakly, “Oh, that’s all right. We love having them in here.”
Liar.
