Skip to main content

I Hope it's a Phase

I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of, but wiping chicken butts is my newest claim to shame.  Three.  If you were wondering. I wiped clean three baby chicken booties.  This is a new low, but if I let them get clogged up and they die, the boys will never forgive me.  

We got ten sweet baby chicks this week and we lost one right out of the gate.  Sawyer tried his best to love it back to life, but to no avail.  Dead is dead.  I heard him whisper to the chick that it would love heaven with all the other birds.  It was very sweet.  Then he tightened his grip on the little body, poop shot onto my kitchen floor, and the moment was over.  We buried it next to a stump.  I'm hoping (with little confidence) the boys don't try to resurrect it later. 

The boys and I have had a week of it.  We have not seen eye to eye on anything since the week began.  I'm exhausted.  

They are with Grandma and Grandpa tonight.  

"She's nicer than you.  Isn't she, Mom?" Sawyer asked today, referring to his grandma.  I couldn't disagree.  "Yes.  That's correct, Son."  He wondered if he could spend fourteen nights with them instead of just one.  I wondered too.  

Earlier this week, during homeschool, I tried to get Sawyer through one short reading book.  It was just seven pages long.  It had between one and three sentences per page.  Totally doable for him...usually.  This little assignment took two and a half hours, three time-outs, two Tylenol, and a nap to complete.  

Grandma visited two days later when we were about to revisit the devil book.  Sawyer was trying to stall her from leaving and asked if he could read it to her instead of me.  "Hallelujah!" I thought.  

Four minutes.  It took f-o-u-r minutes for him to read it to her!  

I recently learned I'm no longer in the running for teacher of the year.         

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pink Stinks

Our girls, like most four-year-old girls, love pink.  And purple.  And sparkly things, unicorns, butterflies, lizards and cats.  But especially pink.  Their brothers aren't so fond of pink.  They prefer the color dirt.  I know this because it's what they have chosen for the color of our walls, windows, light switches and their socks.   "Do you like pink?"  Emerson asked Fischer one day not long ago. "No." "Why?" "Because pink stinks !" Cue 'angry tears and screaming.' This of course delighted her brother who began using the line anytime he wanted to see her cry.  Which was often.  It didn't change her passion for the color, however.  She still demanded the pink plate, pink cup, pink shirt, pink shoes, and pink gum if she had the choice.  Because pink is the best when you're four.   Fast forward a couple of weeks.  The girls were collecting pieces of garbage off the van floor.  Why?  I don't know, b...
Post a Comment
Read more

Triple Threat

 People think we are raising twins, but they're wrong.  We actually have triplets: Emerson, Carter, and Carterror.  It's true.  Carterror doesn't hang around often, but when the days are long and naps have been missed, she comes out swinging.   Today, when we should have been napping, we ran errands.  We needed some grain for our cows, so before picking up the boys from school, we stopped at the feed store.  The girls spent a little time looking at all the fish, birds, and pets they have for sale.  Immediately, after telling them not to touch the tanks, Carter tried to go fishing.  That's when I realized Carterror had arrived.  I called her name to stop her and realized her shirt was exceptionally lumpy.   "What's in there?" I asked, pointing to her newly developed bosom.   "My kitty," she replied, pulling out a stuffed cat from her sweatshirt.  A minute later, we were walking down an isle of bovine parapher...
Post a Comment
Read more

Fear Factor

 Did you know that it has been not  scientifically proven that a baby can smell her mother's presence through a closed door.  It's probably the smell of fear that they are actually attuned to, but nonetheless.  I hold my breath and walk on tiptoe past the baby's room and still get busted nearly every time.  My fear is pungent. Besides waking the babies, I have another fear currently in the forefront of my mind.  Don't mind me, this is just another episode of True Confessions.. .  Here it is: the boys are getting so much outside time that they are building up incredible endurance.  It's great really, but it is   becoming  so hard to wear them out. It used to be an hour at the playground and we were golden.  Now, they basically put in an eight-hour workday, and it's just a warm-up!  Does anybody have a treadmill....?  Real school is going to be a bit of an adjustment for the big guy next fall.    Speaking of s...
4 comments
Read more