I woke up early to confirm what I had suspected: no school today due to the lovely snow that fell last night. I enjoy my kids, I really do. (I practice affirmations; I find them helpful.) But I was secretly ready to have the day to myself. I had BIG PLANS, THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH. And I needed a reprieve from Lexi's mood swings.
It started with a yellow balloon that she had named some months ago. She is a collector and a pack rat (clearly my child), so sometimes these precious things get misplaced. Balloony or whatever her name is, was found mortally wounded and deflated, smashed under Barbie debris. Cheap rubber has never been treasured like this before; her heart was broken. After grieving, she filled 'Loony' up with cardboard and scotch-taped her back to some semblance of her former self. She held onto her all night, because she clearly sensed that her dear old Mom didn't understand the love between a girl and her frankenballoon. (I think she detected my indifference when I said that if we continued talking about the balloon, my eyes would bleed.) After she tucked 'Loony McLoon' into bed, she got a little choked up again. I then heard her whisper, in disgust, "I hate hormones". I guess our little puberty talks are starting to hit home.
Lest I give you the impression the Zack is a bastion of stability, let me reassure you that he is doing his part, sucking the sanity out of the room. Today is a day of tears. Tears over bumping his toe. Tears over bonking his head. (Maybe it's the day of being clumsy.) Tears over being too cold.
Mooommmm, (howl) I am (howl) too cold. (Insert all manners of carrying on and blubbering.) I need (sob) A (boohoo) and W.
Huh? Oh, we have leftover root beer from Greg's birthday party, a delicacy often not seen in our parts. One that must be guzzled down immediately. I popped open a can for him, found my flask, and settled in for what I hope is a long winter's nap.
A girl's got to have dreams.