1. The girls are playing together on the floor and they’re having a picnic and Roo doesn’t get the point of the game which bothers Vio TO NO END but they are PLAYING TOGETHER and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
2. Sorry for the run-on there, but goodness! I had to get it all out before they stopped adoring one another (which, consequently, HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.)
3. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks around here, with Matt working overtime and through the weekend and in the evening. Translated: I have been parenting overtime and through the weekend and in the evening. I love my children dearly, but CALGON TAKE ME AWAY. Heck, I’ll settle for Mr. Bubble. (Except not, because Mr. Bubble will burn you. And your most sensitive bits. Trufax.)
4. This has been a strange week of people in the outside world (the English, as I like to call them) coming to my house and causing havoc that disrupts our slovenly hermit lifestyle. Some fine gentlemen from the power company came and knocked OUT A TUNE (not kidding) on my door the other day, and then informed me THROUGH GIGGLES that they would be shutting down the power for about 40 minutes. Effective within the next five minutes.
Um. It’s not like I could say no, so I explained to Vio the best I could that there would be NO NUMBERS on the front of the VCR (yes, we have a VCR set up in our living room, that we don’t use except for its digital clock capabilities. Why don’t DVD players have clock displays? THESE ARE THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS.) Party people, she is obsessed with the numbers on that VCR. It’s never, “What time is it, Mommy?” It’s always “LOOK AT THE NUMBERS, MOMMY. There is a four! That means it’s time for Martha!” (Speaks, not Stewart. Calm down.) (Also, it doesn’t matter in which position she sees that four; if there is a four on the display, it is clearly time for her stories.)
Looking at this here number 4, it seems I’ve strayed from the point a bit, and also that maybe this should have been a post itself. TOO LATE NOW, we’re all going down in this together.
When I saw what those power men were doing, I knew, Internet. I knew there was no way they’d be done in 40 minutes. They were clearing out all the trees that had grown up around the lines since the last time they cleared them out, which I’m guessing was around when electricity was invented. And they were doing it with horror movie prop saws on sticks. I didn’t mind so much, because the girls were ENTRANCED with what they were doing, and stood at the back window for a good half hour just marveling over their work. There were three of them: white hardhat, red hardhat, and black hardhat. Except Vio didn’t call them that — THAT would have been too simple. And classy. Instead it was “MOMMY WHAT IS THE WHITE GUY DOING?” and “MOMMY WHERE DID THE BLACK GUY GO?”
So, at first I felt bad for me, what with the lack of power (not that we use it for a darn thing all morning, aside from reporting my every move to Twitter. Surely that was missed by all.) Then I saw what they had to do, and I felt bad for them. And then two hours passed without signs of it stopping, and I decided I felt bad for EVERYONE. Because now it was lunch, and lunch means we watch an episode of Word World or Clifford, and it is a ROUTINE, and you do not MESS with the ROUTINE, GOODNESS. But, mess with it I did, and found some episodes of Dora on a flash drive that I could play on the laptop and there was peace throughout the land.
5. That one was getting a little long, but there is still MORE to the story, and I am nothing if not thorough in presenting all the details of an otherwise mundane blip in Planet Earth’s history. The girls went down for naps just fine, except Roo does this thing where she wakes up at some point, but if I nurse her and let her snuggle in my lap, she’ll sleep a whole lot longer. Given the choice of snuggling on the couch with my baby and remaining silent for an hour or chasing her around the house unable to get anything done ANYWAY, I’ll take the snuggling every time.
The power came back on shortly after I had to fetch the baby, and oh how these hills rang out with the sound of the refrigerator bursting back to life and chilling my precious, precious meatballs. They had finished cutting down six forests’ worth of tree branches, and were busily dragging them from the backyard to the driveway. I wondered to myself just what would become of all these branches. Would they clear them out? Would they sit in our yard for days awaiting the special roughage-gathering-truck? No no.
They brought a wood-chipper.
To my house.
And then started using it during naptime.
It was all Fargo up in here.
6. Though, at least that made sense. Because yesterday? YESTERDAY, some dude, who will heretofore be referred to as G.I. Joe, came and banged on my front door during naptime. During the stuck-on-the-couch-boob-out-baby-holding portion of naptime. Then banged on it a second time, for good measure, I guess because both children slept through the first one? What I could see through the window, though, was a tall buff dude, shiny bald head, and a green Jeep.
7. That’s pretty much my week, in way more nutshells than you could shake a squirrel at.
(More quick takes here.)