Loony Zone

Today I worked on fancying up my blog!  Do you like it?  You know when you are going out with your partner (as if... hehe) and you put on a little lip gloss, take off the yoga pants, and fluff your hair?  You know... pretty.  My blog feels pretty.  She just smooched herself in the mirror.  And winked.

I have to be totally forthright with you... last night I was about to have a meltdown of epic proportions.  We started out well enough... it was a slow Sunday... the kind that starts out with eggs scrambled by my eight-year-old daughter and freshly roasted coffee expertly French pressed by my adoring spouse.  It was the kind of day that begged for painting in pajamas and plucking the ukulele laying down on our big purple shag rug.  In fact... the day's production was wonderful.  Cady got really into acrylics as she gears up to be the youngest artist on exhibition at our local coffee shop.  See photo right->

Not only that, but the smell of freshly baked muffins wafted through the house... as Asher baked up a batch of his finest.  Sounds like a day of  perfection, right?  So, what the *&%# was my problem?!?

{HEY, my hub just walked in and gave me the PERFECT illustration.}  

He innocently asked, "Why are they screaming?"

I am literally chuckling, my tanked top shaking like a bowl full of jello-shots.   Here's the short-list of an answer.  

My Children Scream Because They Are:

• being funny
• being Fred
• angry
• hurt
• pretending to be a baby
• pretending to sing like an idiot
• attacking the dog
• attacking each other
• ninja stalking the neighbor
• laughing hysterically
• pretending to be a parrot
• trying to get my attention... from the basement when I am in the upstairs bathroom
• talking in Spanish
• jumping on the trampoline
• screaming to fill up the quiet
• being zombies
• acting like a chimpanzee
• acting like a child
• trying to irritate the pucky out of me
• making sure I don't try to procreate any more
• making sure they haven't lost their voices
• singing first round of American Idol
• telling me the dinner was good/bad 
• making sure I know they are hungry
• tired
• breathing

Okay... that's just a partial list.  My house is quite often insane.  Which is something I love about my house, especially since my kids don't carry that over into dinner with Grandma and Grandpa.  I guess my house is just a "be as loony as you like" zone.  We are breeding eccentrics over here... but I guess nothing wonderful came of conformity.

What was I saying?  Oh, yes... bed time on our perfect Sunday brought me to hysterics.  My sweet artist, Cady, could not stop being a total goofball... and she had her older brother on the bandwagon.  It was a right old hootinannee.    Except, after ONE MORE ANNOYING SOUND, I was D.O.N.E.  No more pants pulled up to the nipples walking around like Erkel, no more arm pit farts, no more bugged out eyeballs or massive wedgies, no more sliding around on bellies in feetie pajamas making platypus grunt noises, and for Goddess-sake NO MORE SCREAMING!!!!!

I cried.  I did.  I walked out of the room and cried.  Is a little quiet too much to ask?  Is it?

Ahhh.  I feel better now.  A good night's rest (with no alarm clock set), and a quiet talk with myself (oh  yeah, and with the crazies that inhabit my space) has set everything straight.  Today I vowed to spend some time apart from my beautiful children, and to do something meditative.  We went to the gym and swam laps.  Cady was my personal trainer, swimming twenty laps alongside me... but without talking.  Asher swam laps, then did some water-spinning somersaults and stuff before showering and heading to the game room on his own.  On.  His.  Own.  (grin)

And tonight... oh sweet tonight... I got to sit in the lounge at the opera house while Asher rehearsed (on a totally different floor) and work on my own things for two whole hours.  Hence, the blog makeover.  (kisses)  She looks fabu, I feel so much better... and I didn't hear a single scream until just then- when my husband came in- but it came from basement... and it stopped on its own.  I think it was a delighted scream.  The guinea pig is probably in a dress. 

Yep, I was right.

He hates that... but he looks beautiful. ;)