Tuesday? Check!

Wow.

Tuesday.

I always knew you were an awful beast, sneaking up on us right after the deluge of Monday, but without the rest of the weekend under our belts.

But this? This was a low blow. And what's worse? You're going to keep coming at us with both guns blazing.

Tuesday has taken on a whole new state of chaos in our life. Tuesday is now known as "Sports Night".

Let me back up a half a click and say this - we limit the kids to one sport per child per season. This is difficult to make them understand, but hey, we've already resolved ourselves to the "mean parent" role. Because one sport per child x 3 children is still 3 sports per season. And nights like tonight prove that is still way more than we can handle.

Our new Tuesday regime looks like this:
*Get Bonnie and Clyde up from nap, change Bonnie into leotard with warm clothes over it and Clyde into his hockey gear.

*Dexter home from school via carpool at 3:45 pm

*Everyone loaded up in the car, ready to pull out at 3:50 pm

*Drive 20ish minutes west of home to the ice rink, where Clyde has hockey lessons at 4:15 pm.

*Have Husband meet us at ice rink prior to 5 pm so someone can leave with Bonnie to drive 35ish minutes east (to the other side of the county) to make gymnastics practice at 6 pm.

*All while the other parent stays at the ice rink to change Clyde out of his hockey gear, get everyone a snack, and then get Dexter in his hockey gear in time to be on the ice at 6:15pm for his hockey team practice.

*All meet back at home somewhere around 8 pm to eat dinner at lightning speed, shower at lightning speed, and get them all into bed at lightning speed (and hopefully, before 9pm, a full hour past the regular bed time)

Yeah, Tuesday. You're a cruel, cruel joke.

There's something spooky in the air......

Let me just start by saying - Halloween? Not my favorite. I vaguely recall enjoying it as a child, but then there was the incident with the candy and the stick from my scarecrow costume..... Well, let's just say, I was thankful to have a big brother.

But, I'm living with four people who really seem to like the holiday, so I've pulled myself up by the bootstraps and joining in. My doors display black feather wreaths, and headstones grace my front porch.

The one thing, though, that I've never liked is carving pumpkins. The ooey, gooey, nasty, sticky innards? The mess? The smell? The need for artistic ability to make something other than triangle eyes? The ability to not try to slice off one's own pinky........oh, there go the childhood memories again.

My kids, though, love them. LOVE THEM. We drive past a pumpkin patch on our way to school, and from August through October, they watch the vines spread and the flowers bloom, eventually turning to big, plump, ripe pumpkins. They argue over which one they're getting. Who's will be the biggest? Who's will be tall and skinny? Who's will be short and round?

We've been remiss this year in getting to the pumpkin patch. We were going to go last week, but alas, I had the death (aka H1N1) and Husband wasn't so hip on taking them by himself.

So instead, we're bombarded with daily conversation of pumpkins.

The latest of which went like this:

Bonnie - You see, Clyde, dere's lotsa kindsa punkins.

Clyde - Yep! Tall ones, short ones, scawey ones....

Bonnie - Yeah, de scawey ones are Jank0-Laters. Dere de glow-up kind..........

"Your stunned silence is veeeeeery reassuring......."

File this under "classic conversations"

Bonnie - Ok Mom! We cleaned up the whole playroom!!

Me - Really? The whole thing?

Bonnie - Yes!!!!

Me - And you put everything away where it belongs?

Bonnie - **insert stunned silence here**

Me - So if I pulled out a tub, I wouldn't find random things all stuck in there?

Bonnie - Well, actually, we didn't.

as she runs back upstairs:

Bonnie - Clyyyyyyyde! We hafta put stuff where it BELONGS

Clyde - Ooooooooooooooooh. Dasa gonna take a little longer..........