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I’m No Martha Stewart…

…but, I do consider myself a crafty gal. And I try my darnedest to make cute things for the kids that also keep them occupied, and figure there are many others who may feel the same way. Then again, maybe not.

My eldest had to decorate a shoebox for Valentine’s Day to use as a mailbox for school as a family project. They had about two weeks or so to do them, and, procrastinator that I am, combined with out-of-town husband, we started working on it the weekend before it was due (which was still a good four or five days in advance). As we bedazzled said box, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that her box was going to be the worst one (at age 4), because other people had already brought theirs in, and they had colored paper instead of white. I didn’t have enough of any non-Christmas paper left to cover this box, so I just used white packing paper to cover it for a base, so she could color, glue, and embellish to her heart’s (badum-bum) content. We had that thing covered with glitter, confetti (both put on contact paper then put on the box so we wouldn’t have it fall off and make a mess (for the teacher as much as for me…glitter multiplies like rabbits around here), paper flowers, foam cutouts, doilies, printouts, coloring…you name it, it was on there. Dad’s contribution was a picture of St. Valentine, which was like playing Where’s Waldo trying to find it among the other fancy-schmancy stuff. Though he was front and center.

She was so convinced that she needed more stuff (even on the bottom that no one would see), that she asked me to stick on a few more things she left out before bed the night before it was due. We’re talking a good four solid days of working on this thing. That’s how much stuff.

Imagine my surprise when I arrive at school for their party to find that the other boxes had been wrapped in paper and, some, not all, with a few other doo-dads, but that was it. She still is convinced that her’s could have been better. Maybe we needed lights?

Murphy’s Law

This morning, I set my alarm extra early so I could cut up some apples for my oldest’s class since we were assigned to bring the snack today. Nine apples, a bag of carrots, and eighteen zip-loc bags…shouldn’t have taken more than about ten minutes. Silly me…

I set my alarm for 6:00am, knowing full well that I probably wouldn’t get a shower in before taking her to school at 7:45. My two-year-old gets up by 6:30 at the latest, so I figured half an hour shoudl be plenty. Off went the alarm, signaling me to scoot to the kitchen.

First things first. I have three cutting boards, two of which are plastic ones that can take a tri pthrough the dishwasher, and I couldn’t find either, despite knowing that one was just removed from the dishwasher and put away within the past two days. Since this was really bothering me, I kept looking for at least one of them for several minutes, until my son came down the stair sto greet me, not a second past 6:10. My older daughter following within minutes, and still no board, hence no cutting. At least I had washed the things by this point.

To my son’s room to change his bottom and dress him for the day, and get him to start his turn of brushing teeth. Then, to have my daughter start on her teeth, and get some clothes out for her. (Thank goodness she can completely dress herself.) Did I mention that the baby woke up and wanted to eat right after the other two woek up? Yeah, that happened, too, so I went to her room next, changed, dressed, and fed her, then put her back down so I could finish brushing teeth and get things ready for school.

Back to the kitchen to get the kids breakfast.  I finally found one of the boards, after asking my husband where they were stashed (not in the usual place, and one is still missing). Everything was bagged, drinks and paper products in a bag and out to the car (not to mention the important show-and-tell bag for the day), and finally I was ready to get myself somewhat presentable. Then the baby started crying.

Blowout city. Really, baby? You were already dressed for the day, and couldn’t hold that in for any more than fifteen minutes? And you rolled over so it was all squished up the front, and all over your sheets? Awesome. Oh, and while I was rinsing poop-clothes in the sink, my husband mentioned that he had to be in for an early meeting, so couldn’t be much help. (I will say he is usually very helpful, and I’m lucky that I am afforded the opportunity to stay home to raise our children. That being said, girlfriend still stays up way too late to put in a couple of hours for my own job each night, and needs a nap. Which the kids have not been taking at all this week.) 

Long story short (or as short as it’s going to get), I managed to get myself dressed, get everyone out the door, and make it to school with minutes to spare. We actually had to wait in the lot for them to open the doors, we were that early. How did that happen?!?

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