Today is my day off from the library and it happens to be the first day I have had home in, oh, about two weeks or so.  The boys have had two snow days in a row but today, the day I could be home with them all the live long day, is the day they are back to school.

Here is the snow day thing.  They had snow days because back roads (we have a lot of dirt roads in our district) were too icy.  It didn’t even snow.  Today?  Today it’s snowing.

I considered it only fair that I call them repeatedly through out the day to ask when they are coming home, what they are making for food, inform them there is no food, ask if a friend can come over, ask if I can watch tv, ask if I can play a computer game, complain about the pets (since I don’t have brothers to complain about), make a huge mess, and sleep on and off.  However, I did not do to them what they have done to me these past two days.  Today I miss them.

However,  I am busy today at home doing this and that.  This thing I need to get done.  That thing that has been bugging me.  This thing that is driving me crazy.  That thing that my family needs me to accomplish.

Days off are just more frantic work days.

I had a pile, a true can’t see my desk pile, of papers/bills/notes/school notices and once I got those cleaned off all I could think of is how my fingers miss typing out a blog post so I thought I would tell you a couple quick stories so you know we are all well and fine.

S4 informed us at breakfast today that “gym is going to be terrifying today.”

Gym is his (and all the boys) favorite because GYM. “Why?” I asked.

“Hula hoops, Mama. Hula (dramatic pause) Hoops.”

Oh my.

The only thing that could make hula hoops tolerable is if they have to jump rope.  S4 detests jump roping as well.  I told him jumping rope would be good for his football training.  He doesn’t believe his nonathletic mother.

Yesterday S3, S4, and I braved the roads and visited our beloved Pediatrician.  The boys were okay with this because that meant they didn’t have to make up school work since it was a snow day and all.   We have been seeing or pediatrician since 2000.  She knows us well.  Whenever we are headed there, my husband makes a comment on how we have to visit her so she can make another porsche payment.  I would like you all to know that she finally traded in her jeep that she has been driving – and did not have heat in – for years upon years.  And she traded it in for a used suburban. She rocks.

“How are your grades?” our pediatrician asked S3.

“Well, I can’t spell,” he answers easily without any shame.

I answer, “He can. He just figures he doesn’t need to because he will get a phone he can talk to and it will spell for him.”

She admonished him, “That is not always going to work for you.”

“Then I’ll just get a wife and she can spell for me,” S3 shrugs nonchalantly.

“I think you need to have a talk with your Dad about this,” our doctor answers.

“It’s his idea! It works for him!” S3 exclaims.

My pediatrician and I make eye contact. “Oh my. We have a lot of work to do,” she says.

Do we ever.

The visit the pediatrician office seemed to last forever because the boys had to take off their shoes.  I felt I should apologize for the terrible smell but I also didn’t want to bring it up.  I have never been more relieved to leave a room.  Oh, the smell!

Liberty has decided that the only life for her is one in front of the fire place.  She hardly leaves it.  Except to sleep in her bed.  For nearly 19 years it has been OUR bed but oh no, Liberty has claimed it and now it is HER bed and she allows us to sleep there.  But only if she is comfortable.

How did this dog take over our life so completely?

Last night Jake and I were sitting on the couch that faces the fireplace and she really wanted her spot.  Her spot is where Jake was sitting.  So she slowly climbs on the couch.  She sneaks over our laps – as though we can’t feel her much less see her – and slowly eases her way down between the two of us, wiggling and squirming until she has that sweet spot she can finally rest in.  And then she moans.  Oh, the moans this dog makes!

I have discovered a fun little shop nearby called Friends Furniture.  They have all kinds of this and that sort of things in there.  I was on the hunt for lamps that if destroyed I would not mourn over.  They had them, hooray!, and I bought two lamps, with shades, AND light bulbs for $14 and some change out the door.  While I was there I found a cute little round coffee table I took a photo of but did not purchase.

We need a coffee table for the living room.  S1’s Best in the Whole State of Michigan Coffee Table is proudly displayed in our upstairs sitting room and I will not allow it downstairs where “oops, it was an accident” seems to be a common phrase.

I showed the photo of the coffee table to S1 because I have to get this response from him, “You couldn’t build it for that.”  If it cannot be built for the price being asked, I am allowed to consider it.  If he feels the price is too high and he could build it for less money, I am put on a waiting list.

Thus the reason I don’t have a coat hanger by my front door.  But I digress.

The next day, S1 and S2 headed to Friends Furniture and purchased the table for me.

They even asked her take less money for it and she did.

“What did you think we were learning at the tractor shows, Mama?” S2 asked.  It was his idea to get a better price.

That table?  Ten bucks.

We have become slightly obsessive over this table.  It’s the perfect size to roll around and move where you need it too.  We ate dinner at it the first night, we have played a million games of Rummy on it, we have Legos over it usually.  Technically, it is for in front of the couch in the living room and it works great there but it usually is in front of the fire place because that is where we all are anyhow.

I totally plan to send the boys to find more great deals for me!

In case you were wondering how Jake is doing since I have now mentioned all the other boys, I leave you with this little jewel of a story…

Cuddling in bed the other night and Jake says, “Do you like me?”

“Yes,” I answer in a huff.

“You don’t seem to like me,” he whines.

“It’s pretty hard to like someone who has been going around all night making a list of my ‘wifely’ or ‘womanly’ duties.”

“That’s being nice to you because I like you. You could say ‘thank you’. (Pause) Master. You could call me master like I Dream of Jeannie.”

I nearly beat him with my pillow. “Seriously!!?!”

He started laughing. “If you are going to put this on Facebook, at least make me sound sweet and helpful and nice. Because I am.”

And then I did put it on facebook because, hello, how could I not?

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