Paint Schmaint
Well, I decided not to paint tonight. Why am I so surprised? I am a slothful excuse for a human being.
YoungestBoy had to go to school today, so I took the other kids with me to run a few errands. The twins did their lessons haphazardly before and after our excursion and while I was putting Babygirl to sleep (and falling asleep myself), TwinBoyA did TwinBoyB's work--both math and vocabulary. I guess they didn't think I'd be able to tell the difference between their handwriting. What's a mom to do?
Tonight YoungestBoy went to his third (or fourth?) birthday party of the school year. My big boys went to that many birthday parties in their whole lives, just about. When I went to pick him up tonight from the party, I spotted him across the room, face flushed, his friend's dad standing nearby. I said, "Is he all right?" and the dad told me that he'd fallen and hit his head while being wheeled around in a giant tire-thing. He was so sweaty his hair was drenched.
He seemed fine, though, but he cried some on the way home, mentioning to me that he couldn't get his shoes off so he could jump in the bounce-house thing. (Yes, that's the technical term for the inflatable jump-thing.) I said, "Why didn't you ask for help?" and he said, "I did!" and I said, "And no one would help you?" and he said, "I'm just crying because my head hurts."
Poor kid. He had fun, despite his last-minute injury. And once I gave him some Advil and a drink of water, he forgot his pain.
And now, thirty more minutes until the children are in bed. Not that I'm counting.
YoungestBoy had to go to school today, so I took the other kids with me to run a few errands. The twins did their lessons haphazardly before and after our excursion and while I was putting Babygirl to sleep (and falling asleep myself), TwinBoyA did TwinBoyB's work--both math and vocabulary. I guess they didn't think I'd be able to tell the difference between their handwriting. What's a mom to do?
Tonight YoungestBoy went to his third (or fourth?) birthday party of the school year. My big boys went to that many birthday parties in their whole lives, just about. When I went to pick him up tonight from the party, I spotted him across the room, face flushed, his friend's dad standing nearby. I said, "Is he all right?" and the dad told me that he'd fallen and hit his head while being wheeled around in a giant tire-thing. He was so sweaty his hair was drenched.
He seemed fine, though, but he cried some on the way home, mentioning to me that he couldn't get his shoes off so he could jump in the bounce-house thing. (Yes, that's the technical term for the inflatable jump-thing.) I said, "Why didn't you ask for help?" and he said, "I did!" and I said, "And no one would help you?" and he said, "I'm just crying because my head hurts."
Poor kid. He had fun, despite his last-minute injury. And once I gave him some Advil and a drink of water, he forgot his pain.
And now, thirty more minutes until the children are in bed. Not that I'm counting.
posted by Melodee at Friday, November 12, 2004
2 Comments:
"A slothful excuse for a human being"??? I think not!
It seems more likely that you decided not to paint because it would be extremely difficult to paint with four children in the house, and no other adult....
The homeschooling thing has to be exhausting you too. People always say that the first year is the hardest...
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