I swear I will do more than post recipes and meal plans soon. This is so not a recipe, cooking and meal plan blog (actually, I have no idea what kind of blog it is, other than "What-evah Laura writes") and I'll get back to writing... whatever else... soon.
The reason for the silence... I think everything has hit the fan with my kids. First, it was trouble with one at school and an adjustment to a student teacher. Just when we got that under control (or maybe this is the eye of the storm?), I got word another has been selected for a summer reading program because the child in question doesn't read. Before anyone blabbers on about testing and scores and when kids really begin to read, let me tell you that said child in question knows how to count, knows all her letters "up and down," and had every sign of reading readiness. Now, we'll sound out sight words (which defeats the purpose of sight words) and I will say, "Dddddooooo. D-O. What does dddddoooo say?"
The child in questions will think... think... think... then the eyes will light up and said child will say, "I know! D-O is CHRISTMAS!"
Head, please meet desk.
|I am two. Yes, I am 22 months |
old but I am two!
The other two children are not exempt. Bear is two. No, you cannot tell him that he is not quite 22 months. He's two. He thinks he's two. He acts like he's two by leaning waaaay forward out of my arms and then throwing himself backwards and slamming his head into my collar bone. He won't sit in his car seat (yes, I make him) and likes to throw tempter tantrums because it is a day that ends in "y," there is oxygen in the air, Mommy turned off "Dinosaur Train." It's a darn good thing he's cute, silly and has his daddy's curly hair because otherwise I might sell him to the zoo.
Another child in question, who shall remain nameless but you know who you are PuddinPie, has started screaming when his father has the gall to take a shower in the morning, hug another child, hug Mommy, eat and leave for work. Wow. Good times, man, good times.
Now, if you've made it this far, you shall be rewarded with BEAVER BUTT JUICE! I have made it my goal to work the phrase "beaver butt juice" into daily conversation. I think it would make a great swear word, no?
On a serious note, toodle around JoniRae's site and look at her lovely artwork. She is a very talented artist. I've seen her work in person and it's awesome!
Speaking of JoniRae's artwork, it's over at Diary of a First Child with artwork for different labor and delivery positions. The drawings are clear, crisp and would make excellent handouts for childbirth classes. The article as a whole is easy to read and the author did a fab-u-lous job informing readers about the "hows, whys and whens" of different labor positions. I am going to pin these to my Pinterest board just in case I need to e-mail them to someone or if I ever get off my butt and get my CBE certification.
I had a mushy moment when I read Jorje's "I did not birth a syndrome." Sometimes I look at Master PuddinPie and just see... problems. Dragons to slay. I think we all fall into that trap with all our kids, no matter what their percived problem might be. It was a slap upside the head that my son is not a preemie, he is not apraxia, he is not SPD. He is GEORGE and he is PERFECT.
BEAVER BUTT JUICE!
Have a great weekend, ya'all!