There are people who are determined to post something every day. And some of them have something worthwhile to say every day.
In fact, whole weeks can go by when I apparently think nothing but entirely mundane thoughts. Which, for the most part, I refrain from posting. Your welcome.
But, just keeping it real, this is what the week has been like, thus far.
Monday: I manage to get the Simple Woman post up, but just now realize that I have once again neglected to link it to the "mother site." I spend a few minutes visiting other blogs and come to the realization that the blog world is an exotic buffet, and I am the macaroni and cheese. With a side of pbj.
The boys are outside at every opportunity, bouncing on the trampoline and reviving Dino-opolis.
Tate, instructed to write a sentence demonstrating his understanding of the meaning of his vocabulary words, comes up with this for collision:
The train collided with the sewer truck; the results were both disastrous and stinky.
We get through all the school work I had planned for Monday, but do not go to MIT. It is just one thing too many, and I have to scurry off to rehearsal - by far the best part of the day.
Tuesday: Though the weather is still beautiful, Wyatt is under a black cloud. Since he can't seem to control his mouth, he is busily writing me 40 copies of Deuteronomy 5:16. I have to read every single one because he tries to skip words here and there, thinking I won't notice. And he writes the 40th copy in his very own Unauthorized Pirate Version, which includes avast, scurvy dog, yer, ye, ARRGH, and bilge-rat.
We get through most of our school work, which includes two science experiments involving hydrogen peroxide, a potato, epsom salt, and ammonia. Once again, the school room has a funky smell.
While I set up the experiments the boys are totally engrossed in their journal writing assignment. I give them a sentence and tell them to write a story around it, but it can not be funny. And no burping, farting, pooping, or boogers. Straining his ears to hear, he followed the sound.
I go with Wyatt to his piano lesson. To keep an eye on him.
The boys spend all their free time poking each other, pushing each other, chasing each other, and rolling around the floor on each other. Fun!
Kerry is gone for the evening, and the boys and I begin reading Stowaway, by Karen Hesse.
Wednesday: I'm enjoying Wyatt's algebra; Wyatt is not. Which is strange, because he's actually good at it when he gets around to doing it.
We play a game, to see what the boys remember about Catherine the Great. As they move around the game board, answering questions, they collect "support" for her to seize the throne. This "support" being represented by M&M's, we almost don't have a new Tsar, as they are so tempted to eat their supporters.
Just as we are about to buckle down to the tedious work of actually writing up a summary, Grampa arrives to help us remove large branches from some of our trees. Well, anything involving a chainsaw and an extension ladder obviously takes precedence over academic pursuits, so we reconvene in the yard.
Actually, the boys are a big help and work hard picking up branches and debris and loading it into Grampa's truck. And "helping" me make oatmeal cookies - Grampa's favorite - to thank him.
Meanwhile, Gunnar talks more and faster than any little boy I've ever met. And he uses way too many pronouns. But he's begun to notice my eyes glazing over, as he goes on and on about Star Wars or Clone Wars or whatever it is.
Is it bad that I don't know what Ka-shiek is? Are the clones good guys or bad guys? What is a twee-lock? Is it like an E-wok?
Gunnar goes to AWANA and finishes his book for the second time, and now has only 7 verses to learn to get his coveted blue review patch. I'm a proud mama.
He has two bloody noses today, and finally admits to me that at least one of them was caused by picking. Like I didn't know that. He is nearly in tears as he confesses. I think I shock him by saying, "You know, Gunnar, picking your nose isn't a sin. There is no Thou shalt not pick thy nostrils in the Bible. There are other reasons I don't like you picking your nose:
1. It bleeds.
2. It's gross to see.
3. What are you going to do with the boogers?"
Because that third one is what I really care about.
Which brings us to today...
We defer our school work to get some chores and errands done. So far the boys and I have...
Swept and mopped the kitchen, bathroom, and mudroom
Vacuumed the living room, dining room, and stairs
Wiped off the tops of the picture frames hanging on the stairs (a long neglected task)
Cleaned two bathrooms
Set the table (company for dinner)
Prepared the crockpot stew (yum!)
Tidied the play room (which has probably already been undone)
Tidied their bedroom
Unloaded, reloaded and started the dishwasher
Run a load of laundry
Dusted the living room and dining room, and
Swept the porch
There. Now I feel productive and useful!
We're off to the library, the grocery store, the consignment store, and to pay the bill for the life insurance, which every year without fail arrives in my mail box 1-2 weeks after it is due.
And that is my exciting, whirlwind of a life.
UPDATE: I can't believe I forgot this too... but for some great encouragement and motivation on getting things organized and picked up around the house, check out Organizing Mommy's blog. Not only we'll she exlain how to blitz, she's always encouraging, humble... and... a HEDGEHOG! (Just kidding. Sort of. Wink, wink.)