you can laugh too

I have a list of a million things to do, but I can't seem to get myself going.  So here I sit.

I should be out running.  Or biking.  I'd feel better.  But I have a little one safely tucked into her little bed for a nap and a big one sick in mine.  So here I sit.

It's been one of those weeks.  A string of days where I feel like I'm trying so hard to do the right thing, only to end up in the wrong.  Ever have those?  Courtney and I talked on the phone last night.  He listened and I whimpered.  Poor guy.  Holding a phone conversation with a blubbering wife while sitting in a room full of guys does not make for an ideal situation, I am sure.  But I have to say, the guy is a champ.  He comes through with kind words and good, solid advice every time.

Emmy is six.  It is official.  She woke up at six this morning (as usual) and I rocked her in the rocking chair and I asked her how it felt to be six.  She yawned and said that she didn't really feel six at all.  Then I told her I thought she looked like an old lady.  You know, now that she is six and all.  She just gave me a sleepy smile.  I love that girl.  Even though she is so spunky I think she's going to make me into an old lady.  My, oh my.  Some days that girl about does me in.  I think I'll keep her anyhow. 

I took the girls back to the orthopedic doctor the other day.  They cut both casts off and did x-rays again.  We ended up with another cast on Claire (her third) and Emmy left with a splint (which she hates).  I was a little bit worried about taking them in, as Claire's face was covered in scabs from our trip to the lake.  It already looks like we beat the poor girls, and then I take my baby in looking like this?  You can imagine my delight when Emmy woke up with a swollen eye and a big fat lip.  Mosquitoes.  It doesn't get any better.  Soooo.  We waltz into the doctor office with two casts, three big scabs on Claire's face, one eye nearly swollen shut, and a big, fat lip.  To top it all off, when the doctor asked Emmy where she got her battle wounds, she told him they were mosquito bites from sleeping outside.  His face registered alarm and he immediately asked, "Is that safe?  Where do you live?"  He quickly turned to me for an answer to his interrogation.

Once again, Parent of the Year.

I won't tell him that I found Emmy yesterday, dressed in a leotard and no splint.  She was teaching gymnastics to Claire.  Awesome.  The best thing about it was that I was standing in the kitchen, five or six feet away from her the entire time.  It didn't even register until Ryenne walked in the front door and immediately noticed that Emmy was splint-less.  Mr. doctor had just given me a mini lecture the previous day, suggesting that I make an effort to "slow" the girls down a bit.  Hmmmmm.  I've given it a good whirl, but I'm obviously a little off my game.  I felt it best not to mention that while we were at the lake last week, Emmy had a blast on the tube and even tried to waterski. 

I'm really responsible that way.

Last night we went to walk lambs.  It was a disaster.  I am absolutely no help, which Kate frankly pointed out to me.  I blamed it on the fact that I'm always wearing flip flops and I don't want to get stepped on by the beasts.  She didn't look satisfied.  When Emmy's lamb continued to be his stinker self, I had to pass the stroller to Emmy and take Kate's lamb so she could manhandle Emmy's super stubborn one.   Ryenne had her lamb tied around her waist (which I had warned her against, by the way).  To top of her good judgement, she was wearing Grandpa's chore boots.  Despite her get-up, all was well until we turned around to head home.  Her lamb got anxious to get back home and took off.  She got all tripped up and Pork Chop (her lamb) ended up dragging her pretty good.  Skinned knees and scraped up hands galore.  Needless to say, she wasn't sure she was going to live through the night.  By this point in the day, I wasn't sure I was going to make it either.  However, I managed to step it up and take both her lamb and Kate's lamb.  We trekked the last half mile home listening to Ryenne's moans and Kate's wailing about how she was so tired and hungry and how come she never gets a break when Emmy and Ryenne always get a break.

I love nights like this.  And by the way Kate, I pitched in.  You can write that in your diary or something.

And today?  Don't even ask how our morning went.  In addition, I'm throwing a last minute birthday party for Emmy in a few hours.  We sent invitations via the phone less than 24 hours ago.  I'm not the birthday party type.  I went the extra mile with Ryenne's first party a few months ago, and I'm about two miles behind on pulling Emmy's off.  But her Daddy reminds me that she is, after all, six years old.  All she needs is a few friends, a silly game or two, and a cupcake.

It will be fun.  And we'll survive- after all, we always do.  Actually, now that I'm writing it all down, I'm already having a good laugh at all of it.   I'm honest enough to admit that everyone who has witnessed any of this has already had a good chuckle or two.  I figure I might as well join in.

Have a lovely day.