now that's attractive.

I'm sick.

I'll be back to write some stuff later on.

Once the drugs kick in.

Now don't step on my pile of snot-filled tissues on the way out.

I could handle being UNDERwhelmed once in a while. Just for a change of pace.

In approximately 24 hours I am leaving my family and driving three hours up to NH for a blessed, blissful weekend away.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah.

From Friday night through Sunday lunchtime I will not have to pick up anyone's dirty underwear.

I will not have to figure out what to feed anyone.

I will not have to entertain anyone. Well, my friends are expecting me to bring Zumba stuff, but I can handle that.*

I will not have to work.

I will not have to work out.

I will not have to convince anyone that bedtime is a good thing.

I will not have to shower. Although I will.

I will not have to convince anyone to let me please sleep just another two and a half minutes. As a matter of fact, I can do exactly what I like to do: stay up super late playing volleyball, get up super early before the sun for some coffee and reading, and take a two-hour afternoon nap, if that's what I wanna do.

Now, in order to prepare, I should be packing. I should be cleaning, so I can come home to a tidy-ish house. HAHA! like the kids aren't going to destroy it while I'm gone.

Anyway, I am neither packing nor cleaning. I'm simultaneously blogging, chatting on facebook, and checking out the new Zumba sneakers I want. I tried them on today. They're wonderful. And super-freakin cute.

Anyway, I'm off tonight, so I have plenty of time to do that other stuff after I teach Zumba.

Which reminds me--it's "Family Zumba" night tonight, so I have to go burn a CD of songs that don't involve quite so much hip thrusting and pony riding. Hm...

The list, it is never ending.

Thankfully, I have coffee. And two flavors of International Delight creamer. Which means I'm totally prepared.

*I wasn't really planning on bringing it all--I was planning on being a total lazy-ass all weekend, not even planning to dress up for the Saturday Night Fun. Me! The queen of OOH! Let ME dress up for EVERYTHING! Lazy lazy lazy ass.

i love the rain

Oh man, I am lovin this day!

It's Sunday. I taught Sunday school to some cutie pie kids, then the hubby and our three girls went to soccer. So I skipped church service, came home, made myself some coffee (with dulce de leche international delight creamer, thank you God for that little invention) lit my favorite candle, took my laptop over to the girls' desk for a little change of scenery, and now I'm just sitting here, typing and enjoying the sound of the rain.

Anyway, on to what I came to write about...

Bek. She's our two-and-a-half year old.

She's going to drive me to drink.

Well, I mean, drink more. Cuz, y'know, I do enjoy a margarita.

OK so my little Bek, my little Bekster, all of a sudden refuses to stay in her crib.

I know, all you parents are out there saying, "Yeah? And? Is that it?"

I know! I know you all have probably dealt with this with every one of your kids and now you're all pros at picking them up, calmly putting them back into bed, and leaving. Repeatedly. Until they finally get the message. Or rather, til they collapse from exhaustion.

But [whining] I never had to deal with this with my other two girls!! They were so good! They never climbed out of their crib. Fifty. times. a night! They never climbed out, saw me coming, whirled around, went back to bed, only to come right the hell back out as soon as their bedroom door was closed and mommy was back downstairs! [/whining]

Grr. I swear, she waits until she hears my rear end hit the couch. Then she swings her leg over the rail--the rail that is as high as her neck, I don't know how the hell she does it--and drops down like a little ninja baby.

OK, so what's a parent to do? We took the mattress out of the crib and set her up on the floor, figuring since she's so adept at climbing and we are powerless to stop her (short of tying her down--I swear last night my husband was about to pull out the bungee cords), we might as well keep her from breaking her dang neck. So of course she just gets up and opens the door as soon as our backs are turned.

Last night I was on the couch, watching The Mummy Returns (what is it about Brendan Fraser and those movies? I stinkin love them!) and I thought I heard something...something about three feet tall, about 30 pounds...so I went to investigate. I didn't see anything. I went through the kitchen and thought I smelled...a smell that's, um, unique to babies and some old people...but didn't see anything so I continued upstairs.

Looked in Bek's room.

No Bek.

Big surprise there.

Looked in the sisters' room, where she likes to go wake up her sisters, to much protestation. No Bek. Just snoring sisters.

Now I'm all, what the hell?

Then I remembered the smell. So I backtracked through the kitchen to discover the culprit quietly playing with craft supplies at the art table.

And stinking up the place.

So we took care of the smell and headed for bed.

And darn the little manipulative creature! I'm trying to do like all the experts say, and show no emotion as I carry her up to bed and staidly put her down and leave. But she wants to cuddle me and hug me and I'm pretty sure she said "I love you," which she would have to do for the first time EVER while I'm trying to be all collected and cool.

Little stinker.

Anyway, she kept coming down. Going straight for the art table, ever so stealthily. And I kept putting her back upstairs. Until finally, at almost 10 o'clock, it occurred to me that I hadn't heard from her for a while. So I snuck up for a look, pretty sure that I'd open the door to her standing right on the other side.

But all was well. She was finally asleep, looking deceptively sweet in repose.

It's so evil, the way they make you love them so much. I left her room feeling all gushy with affection.

That lasted until 5 this morning, when she decided it was time to get up.