I am WAY behind. Two weekend trips--beach, beautiful newborn, seeing family. Father's Day. All good. Someday I'll get the good stories out . . . like Erik and the toilets, oh yeah! . . . and the crayon in the dryer which ended my most expensive weekend ever . . . and the 2 hour drive that was worse than the 16 hour drive . . . and how awesome a dad Erik is . . . and how cute and ever growing the boys are . . . .
Erik is working hard to get everything done at work. He is always moving. Spent the weekend with us and took his after evening hours yesterday to mow the lawn. It looks nice, Honey!
I am treading mud. Can't keep up with everything . . . .
Evy is doing well . . . learning and becoming the big preschooler he is. He is on fire with painting and drawing. Last week he painted everything with the paper oriented upside down . . . and it looked like it was supposed to. Amazing spacial sensitivity. Will be interesting to see how it morphs or what other skills develop instead.
Merritt is everywhere. This morning he even had a mini-conversation with me in words after I got home from the dentist.
Mom: Hi, Merritt!
Merritt (waving his hands): HI!
Mom: How are you?
Merritt: Good!
He is growing so fast.
My goal today was to organize and clean the house top to bottom. It kind of went like this . . . pick up wet laundry to put in dryer, open dryer door and put clothes in, turn to get more clothes, Merritt closes door, I open the door, Merritt closes the door, I open the door . . . I can only get one handful in at a time . . . who is brighter?
I put toys to donate in a box, grab Merritt from climbing the dresser, get back to box and found he had emptied it, again--and am dumbfounded because I never saw him do it. I tried to fold laundry, pulled Merritt down off the top of the sofa--going head first onto the hardwood floor, come back to the laundry to find that everything I had folded was unfolded by Merritt . . . who is faster?
At one point, I am trying to ignore the whining and quickly get one chore done. Merritt grabs my legs from behind, puts his head between my knees and holds on for dear life--giggling the whole time, covering the span of the floor along with me as he drags his legs thinking this is the ride of his life. He got attention and, no, I didn't get the chore done . . . who is craftier?
I finally get to a point where I am filling the box with discarded toys, I get a rhythm going, and think,"so great that it is quiet . . . . UH-OH!" (we all know that silence means trouble and most likely property damage) Run to see that Merritt broke into my bathroom. He wants to brush his teeth . . . who is busier?
During the course of the day, I go through the cycle of giving up and re-energizing to get it done repeatedly. It is 3:00, he is asleep--a natural time for me to get stuff done, all I want do to is nap as well.
