The Friday Factor

.:: I Won’t Forget
My Mom left a voice mail. I need to get back to her. I won’t forget.
Oh. The Mortgage is due soon. I need to pay it. I won’t forget.
I haven’t fed the dogs, yet. I’ll get to it in a second.
The trash needs to go out. Let me start the laundry first, I won’t forget.
My sister’s birthday is coming up. I need to mail her card. I’ll do that later; I won’t forget.
I need to register Joe for art class. It’s on my list. I won’t forget.

Joe’s art class starts today! Did I register? I forgot.
My sister didn’t get her card. It is still on the counter. I forgot.
The trash man just left. The trash is still here. I forgot.
The dogs are hungry. They did not get fed. I forgot.
The mortgage is due today. I forgot to pay it earlier.
The phone rings. It’s my Mom. “Hey! I was going to call you . . .”

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Try to remember
Jotted down a reminder
Though forgetting where

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.:: Beetles, Grubs and Worms – Oh my!
A nature table. Joe’s teacher brought in a nature table. His eyes lit up! He knew just what he wanted to add to the nature table.

“Can I bring my beetles to school tomorrow? Ms. Teacher bought a nature table.”

“Gosh, Joe. I’ll have to check with your teacher. I’m not sure a nature table is an indication that beetles can come to school with you.” I said.

After shooting an email Joe’s teacher, I was informed that Joe was allowed to bring his beetles to school. Then I replied and let her know the beetles would be alive – not dead. The response changed slightly. The beetles were still welcome in the classroom, but instructions for keeping the beetles alive were needed.

Keeping the beetles alive? What? It was a miracle if Joe’s bug collection lasted overnight. You mean she wants these things to live? Wow,  what a novel concept; so, with that, we created a thriving habitat for Joe’s beetles. And happily living with the beetles are two worms and four grubs.

Perhaps surprisingly, Joe’s teacher let me know the bug habitat was a hit with the entire classroom. More surprisingly, the bugs continue to thrive. I do believe Joe has a secure future in entomology.

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If it crawls, if it creeps,
Joe will love it heaps.

Digging for bugs brings him pleasure
To him, finding insects is finding treasure.

Proud of the beetles he reaps.

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Joe takes a friend to school.

 

.:: Charlie Goes to School
Every day, literally every day, Joe asks me if Charlie can come with him to school. Joe wants to show Charlie everything in his classroom, as well as teach him all the things he, himself, is learning. Earlier this week, I finally asked Joe’s teacher if Charlie could attend Joe’s class this week. She said yes.

After filling out the ‘in case of emergency’ paperwork, Charlie was set to go to school with Joe. “Wait Mommy.” Joe says. “You have to buy Charlie a lunch box before he goes to school with me. Charlie needs a lunch box at school.”

Being the accommodating Mom, I adhered to Joe’s request (or was it a demand?). I ordered a lunch box and paid to have it shipped as a ‘rush’, ensuring it would arrive in time for Charlie’s big day. Charlie’s daycare provider was scheduled to take Friday off work, so Friday was the target day for Charlie to go with Joe.

Welcome to Friday. Today is the day Charlie is going to school with Joe. And yes, the lunch box arrived in time. If Charlie’s excitement in opening the package and pulling out his new lunch box is any indication, he will love this day at school with Joe.

Still, I’m not sure Charlie is ready for this; *sigh* okay, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. Alas, today Charlie gets his first sweet taste of kindergarten. And I? Well, I get my first bittersweet taste of having both boys in school, and I think it tastes more bitter than sweet.

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He’s ready to go; he’s ready to grow.
But this parent wishes he’d take it slow.

Charlie wants to be like his big brother.
But lingering at little is the wish of his mother.

My toddlers are kids now, for this am I ready?
Thankfully, both of them still sleep with their teddy.

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Be sure to take care of yourself and others.

 

Running with Scissors

Be advised, I am going to whine. Well, I am going to try to whine. Things are a bit crazy in the house right now. The dogs found the cat’s litter box, the kids are running around with scissors, and my husband is beckoning me to the bedroom. Well, we don’t have a cat, so the litter box part isn’t true. And, the scissors have the rounded tip; sure, the scissors are rusty – but rounded, nonetheless.

“Joe, it would be best if you ran with the scissors closed.”

If you are looking for a well organized post with a point at the end, move along to another post, please. If you are looking for humor, well – please continue reading. I will certainly try to accommodate you. (While also trying to accommodate my family.)

“Hang on, Honey! I’ll be there in a minute! Promise. Yep, love you, too!”

Amidst this crazy house, I am looking for a moment of quiet. Last Friday I noted that blogging helps keep me sane; alas, I haven’t had a chance to collect my random thoughts since last Friday. I have been unable to find a moment of silence between the busy household and the many voices in my head. Even as the sun sets and I snuggle in for the night, the voices continue, making my early bedtime not so early.

“Charlie, pick the scissors or the screwdriver. Don’t run with both, please.”

Mmmm . . . Dutch Monkey Doughnuts

Today, as I drove to my boss’ house, I found myself dosing. Though my morning coffee revs my engines for a bit, I find I begin to drag again by 9am. My husband says I need to start exercising again. I know he is right, but I’m tired. And, since I am tired, I decide pull into Dutch Monkey Doughnuts for some – well, doughnuts – and coffee. I am sure my boss will love having a treat when I arrive. Besides, why get your blood flowing with exercise, when you can use sugar and caffeine?

“Honest, Dear. I’ll be there in a minute. Watch the video one more time.”

And, really, exercise? I can think of countless other things that need my attention more than exercise. Trouble is, I find as I contemplate everything that needs my attention, I want to hunker down and lose myself in a mindless television show. As my every growing butt sits comfortably on the slowly sagging couch, I wonder, “How do you spell lazy?” L E N O R E.

“Cool, Boys! That scissor sword fight looks like fun!”
“Wow – you missed Charlie’s eye by a hair.”
“Skillful dodging there, Charlie.”

Well, I suppose I had better tend to my husband’s beckoning. Plus, based on the red marks I see on the boys’ arms, I may need to pull out some band aids. The good news, the boys will be in bed soon, and my husband? Yeah, he’ll be asleep in 13 minutes. Looks like I’ll get some quiet time after all. I think I’ll have a doughnut.

Friday! Glad you’re here.

.:: Drama
“Be careful what you wish for” is something I have heard time and time again. Yet, regardless of the number of times I hear it, I continue to wish for some things and then get smacked in the face when it happens.

Drama. Drama makes for a good blog week. Drama makes for good postings. People don’t want to read boring. So, yes, I find I wish for exciting weeks – not necessarily drama-filled weeks.

Well, color me smacked. Drama payed a visit this week. Big time. This week, Charlie lost his sandals! Dun dun duuuuunn!!

What? Were you expecting a cat fight of some sort? Hmm. Anyway, while getting ready for day care, Charlie started looking for his shoes; specifically, he was looking for his sandals. “Mommy!” He yelled. “Where are my sandals?”

Now, I love Charlie with all my heart, but this kid loses everything. He is a hoarder and tosser all at the same time. Wanting to sleep with whatever he collected during the day, while simultaneously losing his prized collection from yesterday. “Where is my ruby red?” He asks. What is a ‘ruby red’? It’s a small red reflector, which he picked up off the ground at Suzann’s house. He has slept with it for the past week, except during the nights when he misplaced it moments before bedtime. I digress.

Back to the sandals. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” I said. “When you don’t put your things back where they belong, things get lost. You’ll have to wear another pair of shoes today.”

Charlie’s smile turned to a frown and he began to whimper. Fortunately, he had his ‘ruby red’, so the frown and whimper were short lived. Still, every morning Charlie asked me, “Where are my sandals?” And today, as I took the dirty clothes out of the kids’ laundry basket, I found Charlie’s sandals. Yes, the laundry basket. And, no, I don’t get it either. Ah drama. Thanks for visiting.

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A bed filled with a boy’s treats.
All protected between his sheets.

Hey, look what I found, an old box.
I’ll sleep with it and my favorite socks.

Can I sleep with the picture I drew?
What about my paint brush, too?

Oh, I like these rocks I found.
Now under my pillow, safe and sound.

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.:: A Blank Canvas
White towels. I’ve noticed white towels are popular in many homes. I’ve also noticed how white towel brighten up just about any and every bathroom. This past summer, I bought white towels to use for the boys after swimming. And once, while washing the white towels, I accidentally included a blue blanket. Okay, okay. I knew I was putting the blue blanket in with the white towels, but the blanket was old – I never dreamed it would still ‘bleed’.

The blanket bled. My white towels were now a bluish white towel. I looked at the towels. I thought, “I wonder what color I’d get if I added a pair of black jeans.” And with that, I started washing my white towels with various colors.

Behold the freedom and fun of having white towels. Sure, you could do your best to keep the towels the whitest and brightest; or, you could wash the white towels with an old blue blanket that still bleeds with every wash. You could wash your white towels as it says on the label, with whites only; or, you could throw in a new red shirt, creating a soft pink colored towel. You could add bleach to your recently colored white towels and bring back the original white color; or you could add a yellow shirt, a black shirt, a red shirt and a blue shirt and create  – well, I don’t have a name for that color creation.

White towels: blank canvases waiting to be colored. Go color!

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Laundry is an art.
Mixing different colors.
Wash in a rainbow.

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.:: Why
Folks ask me all the time, “Lenore,” they begin. “Why do you blog?”

Okay. So, folks don’t ask me that question all the time. In fact, I doubt anyone has asked me. But, this morning, I find I am asking myself, “Why do I blog?” This week has been an interesting week, which began with an ah-ha moment on Sunday, and ended with complete peace and satisfaction. And today, I know, without any doubts, why I blog.

I blog for my family. I blog, because blogging keeps me happy. I blog, because when I am happy I am better able to provide for my family. I blog, because blogging helps keep me sane. I blog, because blogging helps me keep things in perspective. I blog, so I can get thoughts out of my head and off my mind. I blog to vent. I blog to forget. I blog to remember. I blog to show my love and support for my friends, while giving me a chance to appreciate all that surrounds me. I blog to make others laugh. I blog to make others smile. I blog to make others think.

I blog, because I love to write. I blog, because I love to share. I blog, because I want to promote the fund-raising efforts of my friends and family. I blog to promote Angela’s efforts with Team In Training, benefiting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I blog to promote my friend Elise’s animal rescue organization, Pick of the Litter. I blog to promote Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, and other charitable organizations. I blog, because I want to help those around me. I blog, because I care.

And finally, as I have probably said in previous posts, I blog so others can breathe a sigh of relief and say, “Wow. At least I am not as crazy as she is. My life is pretty good!” You’re welcome.

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Blogging is something I love to do.
Writing helps me see things through.

I’m not perfect, and don’t claim to be.
I’m just working on being me.

Sometimes I think I’m funny, too.

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Be sure to take care of yourself and others.