Iâ€™m with Carrie. I didnâ€™t mean to go this long between entries. Heck, I couldâ€™ve written at least 3 or 4 according to my list. If I could find my list.
Iâ€™m mostly trying to get the house clean enough to start spring cleaning. That sounds so silly, doesnâ€™t it? I still have things packing and sitting around in boxes, mostly because I have no idea where to put them. I mean, I canâ€™t push everything into the attic. I wonder what weâ€™ll do with the stuff up there whenever we finish the attic?
Okay, so Iâ€™ve been spending a lot of time posting on Aimeeâ€™s list. Very fun bunch of gals, they are.
We had a field trip last week at the grocery store. They gave us a talk on health and nutrition. They have a really nice common room that overlooks the *whole* store. The talk was free! There were 8 kids not counting babies and moms. She even had these pill-bottle sized.. uh.. bottles with various levels of sugar or fat in them representing the levels in common foods. The fat in one bag of potato chips is gross. Then the kids drew pictures for her, and she gave us a snack of milk, o.j. and healthy veggie chips (processed, but still heathier than regular). We thanked her profusely of course. She told us a great story about how there was an employee who had one of those Lunchables in her car for TWO YEARS and when she found it, it looked exactly the same.
So that was enlightening and enjoyable.
Man, itâ€™s bugging me I canâ€™t find my list of journal entry ideas. I was even going to try and piece one from emails I sent. But thatâ€™s not gonna work.
It snowed here yesterday. Does the weatherman not know it is the end of April? Apparently tomorrow weâ€™re supposed to have thunderstorm as well as more snow. It all was gone today, and now weâ€™ll get more. Great. My bulbs are confused. Emma doesnâ€™t care what the weather is doing as long as sheâ€™s wearing her boots and going â€œouâ€™ siiiiâ€™!â€. Wind in her hair? Doesnâ€™t care. Raining? Could care less. Snow on her face? Hardly feels it. We have to spell it now, lest she pitch a fit to go O-U-T.
Last Friday, I was sitting here trying to top my minesweeper score, when the smell of smoke wafts across my nose. Well, supper is long gone, so it can’t be that. Quick check of the kids and Addison is missing. I holler for him but there’s no answer. I follow my nose and it leads me
to the downstairs bathroom. I bang on the door and he hollers “WHAT!?!?” I open the door and he looks more guilty than embarrassed on the toilet. “What are ya doin’?” I ask in my sweet tone. “N..nn.. nothin'” Um, yeah right. I notice a burnt spot on the floor and point it out to him. I tell him he can think about what he was doing and when he’s done come and tell me. By the time he comes to see me (he did have to finish and flush the er, evidence), he has a hangdog look about him that will come in mighty useful when he’s married. I foresee his future wife will see that face often.
Anyway, he says how sooooorrry he is and how STOOOpid that was, and I eventually drag the whole embarrassing story out of him. It’s too dumb of a thing to yell at him for. I got him to hand over the matches, which thank god he only lit about 5 since it’s a whole box of wooden ones, (“I
wanted to see if I could still light them off the box!”) and think up a punishment which I’ll take under consideration. And he stood there saying he didn’t know why he was doing it, AS he was doing it, and even muttering “I shouldn’t be doing this” to himself. Well, I went and checked on him after he sent himself to his room. Poor boy, he looked so forlorn! He really beat himself up. I tried, God I tried, to say “This is one of life’s lessons” and “one day, you’ll look back on this and laugh, but I couldn’t do it without laughing myself. I am so mean. He wasnâ€™t terrified waiting for Ron (who was out), he just thinks he’s quite the bonehead at the moment. I’m sure anything we dole out will be relief compared to what he’s putting himself through. He figures at least 3 weeks of no computers. And I said for starters, he had to tell his father when he got home that night.
That’s definitely worse than a spanking. (besides, he *is* 14 and bigger than me) We wound up deciding that he had no computer at all (his absolute favorite) for a week. Not even email or project writing.
So when I find my list (or make a new one in my Daytimer this time) I will regale you all with a well-thought out and finely crafted article.