Rumblings

I meant to sit down and blog at least 5 different times over the last week. I even did, once - wrote a couple hundred words about the strange things we say as parents, before I decided that the post was heading toward Crapville. If I was a better writer with a better memory for detail, I'm sure I could have pulled it off, but I just wasn't able to capture the intricacies and convolutions of pre-schooler speak. An excerpt, as the post is likely never to be published at this point:

On the way home from school yesterday, Finn explained how one of his classmates' mom came in to tell the class about her job. From this - "she does science and works with police officers to catch bad guys and showed us our finger wrinkles and then we dipped our fingers in chocolate syrup and dotted the paper" - I managed to deduce that the parent in question is a forensic scientist, and she tried teaching the kids about fingerprints (and had them make their own fingerprints using chocolate syrup).

What followed was a twisty-turny conversation regarding the criminal justice system that somehow ended with me advising Finn that no, it's not OK for policemen to shoot your pet. How we got there is still a bit of a mystery to me.

I also meant to tell you that I joined Weight Watchers this past Saturday. But the hunger kept consuming my thoughts to the point where nothing interesting could be blarfed out onto Blogger. Seriously, I have been hungry. Which you're not supposed to be, apparently - their program is supposed to be very "satisfying." But I'm still in the Learning How to Eat and Track Points Plus phase, so I have been conservative and perhaps erred a bit too much on the side of Foods Without Flavor. Because Flavor (usually) = Fat. So every meal I eat leaves me wanting to eat something else/more. I finally allowed myself to have a glass of wine tonight (well, two, actually), but I didn't enjoy it. MUCH. I kept thinking of the damned points. This will get easier, right? Right? I joined mainly because I completely failed at my attempt to diet by tracking calories (it just requires such COMMITMENT) and determined that I needed to be guilted into tracking my food intake by actually paying money and being forced to get on a scale, in front of PEOPLE, every week. And also because my sister has had amazing success with the program.

In other news, M. was out of town for a couple of nights. It's only really news because over the last year and a half he hasn't been traveling much for work. It really made me appreciate how much it helps to have him around in the morning, even though he leaves for an early train about 20 minutes before the kids and I get out of the house (most days). He usually stays long enough to help dress one kid and get them both downstairs. Corraling these two kids into clothes, making Finn pee, making both kids brush their teeth, feeding them each a snack, chasing them down to put on coats and shoes... probably falls under the "no shit" category, but it is infinitely easier with two ringmasters. Especially since Lucy delights in doing the exact opposite of everything I ask of her (for example, running away when I ask her to come over to me to get in her coat). And Finn, while he doesn't do the opposite, argues and argues and argues. I kid you not, in the morning, his voice is made of pure whine. WHINE. The kid is a class A grump when he wakes up, always has been. M. claims that he gets this from me. Though in my defense, I usually get up from bed much more easily then M. does. I just don't have appreciation for any kind of humor or flirty behavior AT ALL. Who wants to get handsy at 6 am before they've even had coffee, forgodssake?

Where was I? Oh, yes, M. was out of town. And though I was out of practice, it was fine. I remember how panicky I used to feel when Finn was a wee babe, and then when Lucy was a baby (and with good reason, there were some traumatic solo parenting experiences, all of which involved a reflux-y baby), and now it's all just FINE. I wasn't the slightest bit worried, even though I was on my own starting at around 2 pm on Sunday (the dreaded single parenting on a weekend when there is no DAYCARE!). Yes, things took a little longer, occasionally I yelled a little more, but we did fine. I cooked actual meals, and gave baths, and handled a 12 am wake up, and we all got to school and work at appropriate times. I even took both kids out in the snow on Sunday to go sledding by myself - wrangled them both into their snow gear and pulled their collective 65-pound weight all over the damned place in our blue plastic sled. And though I felt at times as though I might keel over from the exertion, we all had fun. Success!

And now M. is back, despite dire weather situations practically everywhere (yay!). And I am off to bed, lest I find myself idle and fixated on what kind of stupid diet food I will eat during this Sunday's Super Bowl. Oh pizza, I miss you!