just keep posting, that's the ticket.
1. Tomorrow morning we head out for a week of vacation in Maine, with my folks, brother and awesome SIL, and their two boys. Well, actually, first we stop in Ottawa to teach a little for the nice people at Project Acorn, and then on Saturday morning onto Maine. We've all got a house right on the water, and we will be celebrating my Dad's 65th (a little early) and giving the cousins their first real opportunity to spend a good long time together doing whatever two-year-olds do. Making messes and fighting over the one utterly desirable shovel out of eleventy shovels available, one imagines.
2. On this tip, we have secured the assistance of a sitter/parenthelper for the weekdays, in order that the larger people might also experience some level of restfulness and not just a week of chasing our toddlers around someone else's house instead of our own. My mother feels certain that this will be a great situation and everyone will have lots of downtime. We'll see, I guess. I am trying to remain positive about it all.
2.5. I am therefore engaged in packing our household into the trunk of the trusty Toyota, a situation made easier by my mother's daily lists of things she has bought and will bring, and more difficult by Mr. Weesauce's new intense interest in his clothes and recent meltdown-y phase. Which I understand is a totally developmentally appropriate thing, but it makes me start thinking very seriously about a) what will happen on the day he does not have the shirt he urgently requires and b) how much it costs to mail a toddler to the international space station.
2.75. If you were thinking about making a helpful "suggestion" and you're not the parent of a two-year-old, I don't really recommend it.
3. Yesterday we picked up a three-gallon pail of sour cherries at the farmer's market, and now there are seven jars of cherry-pie filling on the counter. This magic is brought to you by an industrial cherry pitter and my amazing husband. The pie filling is so good I might have eaten the leftover (the partial jar) with a spoon, for breakfast. Mmmmm.
4. Come to think of it, last was the last thing I ate today. Maybe lunch?
5. Mmm, yes. Lunch. Then back to organizing and packing things.
This entry was originally posted at http://sbearbergman.dreamwidth.org/20965.html.
2. On this tip, we have secured the assistance of a sitter/parenthelper for the weekdays, in order that the larger people might also experience some level of restfulness and not just a week of chasing our toddlers around someone else's house instead of our own. My mother feels certain that this will be a great situation and everyone will have lots of downtime. We'll see, I guess. I am trying to remain positive about it all.
2.5. I am therefore engaged in packing our household into the trunk of the trusty Toyota, a situation made easier by my mother's daily lists of things she has bought and will bring, and more difficult by Mr. Weesauce's new intense interest in his clothes and recent meltdown-y phase. Which I understand is a totally developmentally appropriate thing, but it makes me start thinking very seriously about a) what will happen on the day he does not have the shirt he urgently requires and b) how much it costs to mail a toddler to the international space station.
2.75. If you were thinking about making a helpful "suggestion" and you're not the parent of a two-year-old, I don't really recommend it.
3. Yesterday we picked up a three-gallon pail of sour cherries at the farmer's market, and now there are seven jars of cherry-pie filling on the counter. This magic is brought to you by an industrial cherry pitter and my amazing husband. The pie filling is so good I might have eaten the leftover (the partial jar) with a spoon, for breakfast. Mmmmm.
4. Come to think of it, last was the last thing I ate today. Maybe lunch?
5. Mmm, yes. Lunch. Then back to organizing and packing things.
This entry was originally posted at http://sbearbergman.dreamwidth.org/20965.html.