(no subject)
Getting kids into their snow gear is one of the biggest projects in the world. Especially when the kids you nanny have a serious, my life is ending, meltdown every time there's a problem. They can't get their snow pants on. When they do, the legs of their pants ride up. The straps are tangled, and they're too big. There's no room in the crotch. They can't get their arms in their jackets. They can't zip the jacket up. The scarf is stuck in the zipper. They can't get their second glove on. They can't get their boots on wearing their gloves. They can't get their gloves off. Their heels won't go into the boots. They can't get their snow pants over their boots. Their ears aren't covered by their hats. THEY HAVE TO PEE! There was so much screaming and crying it was insane. I was so close to rolling them up in their comforters and sending them outside in a ball. And then they walked out the door, I was watching from the window...and Jimmy threw a snowball at Lexie's back. She turned around and it hit her in the face. It was one of those lame, I'm four and can't make a good snowball so it's basically a pile of snow that's going to fly everywhere except where I want it to kind of snowball. But she screams and cries, comes flying inside, with Jimmy right at her heels, also sobbing and screaming....and the ten frustrating minutes spent pulling on all their crap and listening to them freak out was followed by less than ten seconds outside, which was followed by another ten minutes of screaming and sobbing and blame placing, which woke Sally up who had just fallen asleep, and was more than happy to join in the shrieking.
It's Friday. Sweet. I was going to go home, but I'm driving to Mass and back twice next weekend, and seeing the miles rack up on my car is killing me. So I'm here. And Matt's working both days. So if you're up here, let's do something. I should probably call Ellen. She goes to school two minutes down the road and I still haven't seen her. And that's dumb.
Jimmy just mooned me. Ahh the immaturity of boys between the ages of 4 and 24. Make that 25. Matt's 24 and he's still got some work to do :) Then again, so does my father.
I got pulled over yesterday. But listen to the reason. It's lame. I was going straight through a light and there was a cop behind me. Two cars coming towards me were turning left, and they totally didn't yield. I had to slam on my brakes. Screeching tires and all. The cop pulled ME over for not using my horn! "You should use your horn for safety's sake." Uh...okay, but what about those two cars that just BROKE the LAW?
I hate Maine.
It's Friday. Sweet. I was going to go home, but I'm driving to Mass and back twice next weekend, and seeing the miles rack up on my car is killing me. So I'm here. And Matt's working both days. So if you're up here, let's do something. I should probably call Ellen. She goes to school two minutes down the road and I still haven't seen her. And that's dumb.
Jimmy just mooned me. Ahh the immaturity of boys between the ages of 4 and 24. Make that 25. Matt's 24 and he's still got some work to do :) Then again, so does my father.
I got pulled over yesterday. But listen to the reason. It's lame. I was going straight through a light and there was a cop behind me. Two cars coming towards me were turning left, and they totally didn't yield. I had to slam on my brakes. Screeching tires and all. The cop pulled ME over for not using my horn! "You should use your horn for safety's sake." Uh...okay, but what about those two cars that just BROKE the LAW?
I hate Maine.