Oh, THAT'll be interesting.

Ever since Peter introduced me to Apocalyptica awhile back, I've been hooked.  There are some days that only the ironic marriage of hard rock and a quartet of cellos will soothe.

Weird, isn't it?

I never said I was normal.

I downloaded mp3s for my player, and then burned a CD for those rare times when I'm driving and feel the need to listen to their stuff.  I deliberately chose to put only the instrumental stuff on the CD, in case the kids were in the van with me.  A group that started out as a Metallica cover band...well, I don't need little kids exposed to harsh lyrics.

Heck, I don't need to be exposed to harsh lyrics.

But I do love their music.

Today, in the van on the way to Lowe's, I had my Apocalyptica mix in the CD player.  It was cued up to the song that got me hooked in the first place.

As the song finished, and the final strains faded, Large Fry asked, "Mommy, can we listen to that again?  I like that song!"

Well, sure!  Like I'm gonna object to listening to one of my favorite songs again.

"We should play this in church!" Large gushed enthusiastically.  "Let's do that!  We'll bring it in to church!"

"Hmmmm," I murmured, trying to be noncommittal.

"Mommy, we should sing this in church!"

I tried not to laugh, but it was hard.

"You'll have to ask Daddy after he gets back," I finally said.

"This is a great song!  We should really sing it in church!"

What song?

I'm so glad you asked.

I never looked up the lyrics because I didn't want to ruin my own enjoyment of the song.  (Don't burst my bubble now.)

This is what was playing:


APOCALYPTICA from giorgoskappa on Vimeo.

TSME, Day Two

Misadventures of the day (so far; it's not bedtime yet):

• Explained to Small Fry that I didn't care if she didn't like her non-Dora panties.  She still had to wear them.
• Held a very hectic Skype call with Hubby as I cajoled (with great volume and gusto) the girls to actually eat breakfast.
• Walked a happy, bopping, perfectly fine Large Fry across the street to school.
• Drove the twins to preschool, despite major meltdowns from both, who were angry at me and  wanted Daddy to come save them from Meanie Mommy.  Especially when I shouted at Small Fry to get out of the driver's seat of the van and into her carseat so that I could drive them, not her.  I am so evil, I know.  (I'd told her to get in and get buckled, which she did...in the driver's seat...and locked the door so I couldn't get in and make her move.)
• Came home and had breakfast myself, then crashed, making a mental note to vacuum when I got up (again).
• Mom called.  Large Fry's school had called her after not being able to reach me, telling her that Large Fry was in the nurse's office, had been for the past hour, and was complaining that her belly hurt.  With no fever.  And obligatory whimpering and poor-me moaning.
• Called the nurse back.  Explained that Daddy is away and this is probably what's causing half of Large's issues.  The rest of it...well, some applesauce will probably fix it.  We determined I would come get her anyway, and I figured that I would just force Large Fry to sit and do nothing when I knew she felt fine.
• Walked back to get Large Fry and updated my cell number with the school office.
• Picked up papers and stuff on the floor and started a load of whites.  Ran vacuum on the kitchen level.  Determined fast that a Bissell upright is not designed to be used on stairs, and replacing the now-dead Shark we had (which would have worked great) is now a priority.
• Vacuumed foyer on entry level, and wondered about suction problems and dust cup issues.  Discover major fur buildup, and spend a good five minutes pulling it out.
• Called to Large Fry, asking her to bring up the dustbuster from the kitchen.  Commence pitiful whining and moaning about how much her belly hurts.  (I make her do it anyway.)
• Finish vacuuming house.  Marvel at how much better vacuum works now that it doesn't have two kittens' worth of fur stuck way up inside.
• Write brief grocery list.  Pack Large Fry into van and off to Lowe's.
• Find portable, stair-easy vac...but of course the only model they have is the display, and the powerhead attachment that I need isn't there.  (This is what online shopping is for.)
• Next stop, Walmart.  Groceries.  Happy Large Fry, who is thrilled at the idea of pizza muffins for dinner tonight.
• Upon seeing the time, decide to stop at preschool/daycare and pick up twin Fries.  Due to overcast skies and impending storms, Large Fry gets carsick on the seven-minute drive between Walmart and preschool.  (Thankfully, she had her plastic 32-oz cup to use...which we keep in the van--times three--for just these reasons.)
• Pry twin Fries away from their buddies at preschool, and defuse fight between twins over how Medium's picture, done at the library today on a field trip, somehow got wet because of Small's.  Small Fry says she had an accident today, so her nap stuff needs to be washed.  Yay.  Herded them out to the van.
• Started van.  Large let out a little cry and said, "My throw up!"  She'd been holding the cup between her knees--I didn't want to dump it on the preschool's parking lot--and knocked it over.  Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.  (I have a really strong gag reflex, so this is not something I handle well.)  Shut off van, cleaned up mess as best as possible, gagged a lot, nearly puked myself, and got back behind the wheel.  Home, James.
• Unloaded kids, groceries, and assorted kid detritus.  Took wet washcloth out to scrub floor carpeting.  Put groceries away.  Approved bike-riding for twins, provided they stayed in our yard (unlike yesterday).  Had Large Fry change her clothes.  She opted for jammies; I opted not to fight the idea.  Started another load of laundry.  Attempted to, anyway.
• Small Fry rings doorbell to get me to come open the screen door.  Sigh.  Medium does the same, at a different door.  (Mental note: get different bells for front and back doors.)  While in the laundry room, Medium comes in to inform me, panicked, that Small is in the street with her bike.  And apparently can't get out of the street.  I'm seeing my youngest, crashed in the middle of the road, scrapes, blood, impending doom with incoming cars, in my mind's eye.  Nope, just at the end of the driveway, where the sidewalk curb drops to street level.  And without a helmet.  Yay.  Everybody back into the back yard; no, you may not ride on the sidewalk along the house.
• Laundry again...I'm still trying to get that load going.  Medium rings the bell and finally figures out the door isn't locked and she can open it and comes downstairs to the laundry room, saying that Small fell over the edge.  (With my sanity, perhaps?)  Assuming correctly that Medium meant the edge of the old greenhouse platform by the driveway, which has about an 18-inch drop down to the graveled parking area, I went running.  "And she has blood!"  Sure enough, Small had ripped a very small gash in her palm.  Antibiotic ointment and a bandaid...and a call to Daddy.
• Mostly emptied dishwasher, and started a movie for the twin Fries (and Large, who I kept poking to wake her up).  While I listened to the owl rasp out to Ernie and tell him to "Put down the duckie," I started working on dinner.  Small came out and put silverware away; Large and Medium helped assemble pizza muffins.
• Oreos for dessert (the pizza muffins were, thankfully, a huge hit), with a homework chaser for Large Fry.  I sent the twins to get ready for bed while I supervised homework, and then had them put away the clothes in their bins.
• I still have laundry to do, and the dishwasher to run, kitties to feed, boxes to scoop, and trash to get out.  I'm going to die before bed.

The Single-Mommy Experiment, Day One

We all loaded up in the van this morning at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. (I prefer to only acknowledge one 5:30 per day, and that's not it), to take Hubby down to KSC in our old town, where he met up with the other youth pastors who were piling into KSC's big white van and driving down to Daytona Beach.

Sufferin' for da Lawd, they are.

I have no sympathy.

Innyhoo...there were tears and wails as we left Daddy behind.  Even the Hug Bears were of little comfort on the ride home.

It's worth pointing out here that the Hug Bears--which Hubby had hugged for each Fry, to "give" a hug from Daddy when they missed him this week--are all actually mine, and none of them are what you'd call small.  These are bears half the size of the Fries.

We got back to the house, and since the Fries were all still in jammies, and since the second service at church didn't start until 11a, and since it wasn't even 6:30a yet, I said we could all go pile in my bed.

As long as they were quiet, and went back to sleep.

And didn't horse around.

And didn't wrestle.

And were still.

So, there we were: one adult, one almost-seven-year-old, and five-and-a-half-year-old twins, in a queen-sized bed.  With three large teddy bears and two full-size Pillow Pets.

Crowded is an understatement.

I managed to sleep.

Sort of.

I don't think they did.

When we got up, the twins apparently attacked the box of mini powdered-sugar donuts that we'd picked up at Sheetz when Hubby stopped there for coffee before meeting up with the guys at KSC.  I was upstairs in the master bath, doing my hair, when Medium came up to tattle.

Tattling is an Olympic sport in our house, and all three of my kids are medalists.

Medium Fry: Mommy, Small Fwy frew donut cwumbs at me!

I called the other two usual suspects upstairs, and we had a brief discussion over who is in charge, and whether or not Large Fry gets to let Medium Fry countermand my orders (I had said not to touch the donuts until I got downstairs).  All of this, mind you, is while I'm still holding--and using--a very hot curling iron.

As much as I'm able to, I skewer Small Fry with a look.

Me: Small, did you throw donut crumbs at Medium?

Small Fry: Yes.

Me: Why did you throw donut crumbs at her?

Small: Becawse I fot she was a wreal donut!


Yeah.  It's a miracle I didn't burn myself.

It starts.

Hubby leaves tomorrow for a "business" trip.  I use the term loosely, because I know where he's going and what he's doing: heading to Florida with a bunch of other youth pastors for our denomination's annual youth workers' summit.

His life is so hard.

Even his bemoaning the need for nose plugs for the van ride home (with half a dozen smelly youth pastors, after a week near the beach, where I know full well they will have access to showers), I do not feel much sympathy for him.

The Fries are not real thrilled with the fact that Daddy is going to be gone for six days.

I really hope it doesn't storm.  Only Daddy is brave enough and strong enough to protect against thunderstorms.

Innyhoo....

We both tucked in the kids tonight, which is the way we used to do it when the Fries first invaded our lives, and then we had to stop, because I couldn't do the stairs more than absolutely necessary during my post-auto-wreck recovery, and there were days that my ankle just throbbed so badly that Hubby had to while I kept my foot propped up and wrapped in a hot rice bag.

But I digress.

We've started tucking the kids in together again, when we're able to.

After I left the twins' room, Hubby was reminding (and encouraging) both of them to be good for Mommy this week while he was away....

Hubby: And if you're really good, I'll bring you back something from Florida.

[Right.  He'll do that anyway.  He's a softie.]

Medium Fry: It bettewr be somefing cool.

Hubby gaped.

Medium: Like a fan.

Last-minute reprieve there for Hubby, I think.

Reason # 2586...

...why I like Baby Blues.

I'll let you know when the tickets go on sale.

Small Fry:  Mommy?  Can you be Goldilocks?

Me: Not right now, honey.  Mommy needs to lay down for awhile.

Small Fry:  Okay.

[pause]

Small Fry [loudly]: Daddy, can you be Goldilocks?

A Four-Hour Nap

And I'm still exhausted.

The last four days have been extremely hard on the emotions and on the body as a result.

I'm so tired, my heart aches, and I miss my kitty.

I might go to bed after I tuck the kids in.

Provided I can get Pa'ani off my foot, that is....