Ranting

Life has been random and chaotic lately - even more so than usual since we are remodeling the kitchen/living/dining space upstairs and it's a bit of a war-zone.  Still, things are happening in my life that have caused me to contemplate a little bit more and the more I think and the more I think I want to vent my various thoughts through my fingers.  Typing is cathartic.  Maybe someday my children will find these posts entertaining, maybe embarrassing.  Either way, Mommy needs a rant - so hold on (you have my complete understanding if you redirect your browser to something more important).

Went to Cross-fit this morning.  We've been saying we want to go 4 times a week for a month, but it hasn't happened yet.  This might be the week.  This morning's workout was called "Filthy Fifty".  Go ahead and google it, I'm too emotionally scarred to write it down.  Let's just say that it was hard.  In a good-ish way.  I like getting up early once I'm up.  5 am class is the only one we can make it to without cheating kids of our time so 5 am it is.  That means in order to get my desired 8 hours of sleep I need to be in bed at 8:40.  ha ha ha ha ha.

Potty training was going so well.  Notice the past tense?  The little Darlin' has decided she doesn't mind being wet so unless I'm completely on top of my Mommy-sense, we go through a lot of underwear (last night at Aunt Jeri's house we had 4 accidents, peed on 2 different chairs and created an entire load of laundry for her).  Lovely has also had a streak of wipe-out's, twice on Grandma's carpet.  Thank heavens that is part of the remodel but once the new carpet arrives I think I'm going to make all my kids wear hasmat suits.

Fall is coming.  I smell it.  Sounds a little too romantic huh?  Well, it's true - and it smells GOOD.  The garden is growing and we're mass producing squash.  Why is that the only thing we are consistently good at growing?  Tomatoes are doing ok.  We'll have lots of potatoes when the time comes, never got any corn or fruit to speak of.  Peas are still my happy thought - and the eggplant that I thought was Parsnips.  I'd like to spend more time gardening, I really do enjoy it.

Scouting.  Soon I'll be creating a flowchart with the Scouting heirarchy fully illustrated and explained so that the other half-million Mommies out there who can't fathom it will finally be able to understand the scouting lingo.  It's complicated I tell ya.  Still, the more I learn the more I'm excited.  As a teaser . . . did you know that there's scouting beyond the "Eagle"?  I didn't.  No kidding.  I thought that was the end of the line.  Shows how much I payed attention to my brothers huh?  Well, hold on because Kabe will be 8 in just one month and then the world of scouting will merge with mine in a fierce way.  Tyler is now the Webolos leader.  Don't know what a Webolo is?  Neither did I, but it will be on my chart.

8!  Why do my kids have to grow so fast?  Can't they take it a little slower?  The other day Ksenya was holding Leisl and they were so cute and Tyler could see the 'heartsick' look on my face.  That's the one where I stare at my kid and notice how beautiful she is and realize she's giving me real conversation and I have to sit down because I suddenly can't breathe and I want to cry and rock her on my lap and sing "wild thing, you make my heart sing, you make everything groovy".  (best baby song ever).  Anyway, he looked at me and saw me 'heartsick' and said the most sensitive thing he could think of, "You know Toni, how old will Ksenya be when Leisl is her age?"  I quickly did the math and gave him the meanest look I could.  She'll be 18.  When my last baby is my first baby's age right now, my first baby will be 18.  If that makes sense to you then you realize just how completely and totally panicked I felt.  If you know my husband you can probably hear how loud he laughed at my reaction.  Daddy's don't understand growing pains.

There is nothing in life quite so excruciatingly painful as a chatty checker when you're in a hurry.  They're so friendly.  Do they not see that you're trying field phone calls, pay for your groceries, play mediator between the ones under foot and quiet the screaming child in the cart that wants candy (aaah, candy at check-out - - - Satan's brainchild) while sticking your finger in the babies mouth because she was hungry and tired when you arrived at the store 40 minutes ago.  Don't talk to me lady, just race me through this line before I pee my pants (how many times do you really need to pee in a day?)

I love it when I drive down the street and head into my road rage routine only to realize the perp is a friend or neighbor.  All of a sudden those mean things I was thinking disappear and I start thinking about delivering mason jars full of home-made applesauce with red gingham ribbon.  I should start pretending everyone on the road is one of my neighbors.

Part of my work at the clinic is weight loss coaching and therapies.  This includes body wraps.  In a nutshell I slather my patients with lotion and then wrap them tightly with cellophane.  Sounds weird, but it rocks.  Anyway - I was in the middle of a wrap, kneeling behind my patient when the plastic I was pulling on ripped suddenly and the very hard cardboard tube it is wrapped on hit me directly under my left eye.  Searing pain.  Lots of fluid was running down my cheek and at first I was sure it was blood.  I wiped my face and realized it was tears.  I quickly finished the wrap and hurried to the bathroom to inspect my swelling purple eye.  First person in the history of the world to get a black eye from a roll of cellophane.  It is nice and purple today but the swelling is down considerably.  Why does something horribly clumsy always happen at the start of Kindergarten?

The fabric on the ceiling of my car has come unglued.  This means that every time I get in the car my head rubs on the ceiling fabric and when I get out I look like I've taken a trip back to the 80's.  Classy.  The other day I pulled into the carpool line at school to pick up Ayvri after Kindergarten.  One of her teachers came to put her in and opened the back door to the car.  I know it's not advisable for kids to ride in the front seat, but for the sake of gas money we reserve the Taco for "whole family" expeditions.  Thus, when she opened the door (the one you have to push kind of hard to close) the carseat burst out a little bit.  "You need a bigger car," she said as she leaned and bumped to get the door shut again.   No.  I don't.  I need smaller carseats :)

Pulled up at a stop-light this afternoon next to a cherry red BMW convertible.  The driver was immaculate - freshly highlighted hair, nails done, pricey sunglasses and a designer hand-bag next to her on the spotless white seats.  It was like a billboard photo for California Dreamin'.  Funny though, as I sat there next to her I turned to look in my back seat.  The seat cover has Ayvri's name written on it.  There is a dirty daiper rolling around on the floor along with several wrinkly plums.  My hair is frizzy (see above) and my nails are completely trashed (construction scars cover my hands).  The only thing on my face is a dazed exhausted expression (thankyou crossfit) and a black eye.  The bag next to me is full of daipers, school papers, bills, chapstick and million other things.  The three carseats are wedged together and big sister is sitting cross-legged chattering away about her school day and her friends and her hair and her teacher and her big ideas.  My only thought was, "I'm so thankful I'm driving over here!"  Seriously, wouldn't trade my life for anything.

The kids are home and my rant is necessarily over.  It was nice though - just chatting with you like this. Maybe I'll try it again sometime.

Peace Out!