Stuff on my mind

Ten more days until we move. I feel like the energizer bunny trying to get everything done. You never realize how much stuff you really have until you try to put it all in boxes. And you never realize how much stuff you’re reliant on until something you need is in one of those boxes. Moving is a frustrating endeavor. I feel like I should be a pro by now. By the time I was eighteen I had moved fifteen different times, granted I probably didn’t do a whole lot on those moves, but shouldn’t I have gotten more skilled through osmosis? And in my almost nine years of marriage we’ve moved five different times, still doesn’t get any easier. Why do I have so much stuff? And why has my husband seemed to accumulate every single cord and extension known to man?

Talin and Collin have informed me that living with Grandma Cyndee is going to be the good life for them. I’ve heard things out of their mouths such as, “When we live with Grandma, she’ll let us do whatever we like”, or “If you tell Grandma to spank us she won’t listen to you, she’s nice”. Seriously? I thought I was an awesome mom, I don’t spank! I say that and hope they can’t remember their toddler years, where swatting their bums seemed to be the only form of discipline that sunk into their little man heads.

This morning I’m in the kitchen, the boys are off at school, Caleb had just woken up and was sitting in the family room in a sleepy state, so I thought I was safe. I thought I could take two minutes to load up the meds into the syringes. No. No faith in this child to stay still, not even for two minutes! I turn around, he’s gone. I hear diabolical giggling. Where is he?? Sitting at the top of my long flight of stairs. Holy Crap!! This child is the death of me. As soon as he sees me he knows. The smile vanishes and he takes off crawling at Superman speed, not kidding.

While I was enjoying the Tulip Festival on Saturday, I guess the boys had an interesting experience at the golf course. Well, I guess interesting isn’t the right word. Tom had a cart and he went golfing with a friend of his that took his little girl as well. While Tom was driving he had Collin next to him and then Talin. I guess the two boys were talking; well at least Collin was, when Tom took a corner really sharp and Talin fell out rolling. Collin’s still talking to Talin this whole time, has no idea that Talin has fallen out. Neither does Tom. Until his friends yells at him and Tom turns around to see Talin crying and running after the golf cart. The poor kid had a headache the rest of the day.

And Talin has taken up casual swearing. And before anyone laughs and wonders where he gets it from I would like to inform you all that I have not casually sworn in a very, very, very long time. He DID NOT learn the d.a.m.n. word from me. And although it’s been quite alarming, it’s also hard not to hide my snickering when he does swear.

Some Examples:

“Collin, put the damn food in your mouth”

“Throw the damn Frisbee”

Playing at UNO with the family, “damn!”

He uses it in the correct context and all. This is like my perfect future prophet child. Life is full of surprises.