I've hit the wall, folks. The air is whispering fall, the news reports are predicting a heavy winter this year, I fight the urge daily to take WonderGirl out of school because I miss her so blasted much and I don't think she needs to be learning phonics for the 4th year in a row, and Monday morning the Dude crawled into my bed and quietly asked me to take Thing 3 back to the hospital because he didn't want a new baby anymore.
The problem he doesn't have a new baby anymore - that was tolerable. But having a crawling baby who touches your stuff is another matter entirely.
Oh, how I love the Dude - but he has been working my last nerve this week. He has had the hardest time transitioning to being a 4 year old kindergartner, sobbing at the prospect of another 3 hour class 4 days a week. Today I was rushing around before he went to school and he was following me around asking for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but before I could do that I had to feed Thing 3 a bottle and then take a shower and change because he had a diaper malfunction and soaked us both in pee.
By the time I got up both of us cleaned up, I came downstairs expecting to see a violent tantrum from a poor, sandwich-less, misunderstood 4 year old. But instead I saw this:
You guys - he'd decided to take care of the lunch situation - so he'd gone downstairs to the deep freezer, lugged the big paint can off of it, dragged a box of chicken nuggets out of it, closed the freezer and managed to get the paint can back on top of it, came upstairs, somehow got a plate from a high cabinet (how on earth he did that scares me!) and put a few dino nuggets on his plate and then came to ask me to please put them in the microwave for him.
I had to grab the camera. Surprisingly, I haven't had that urge in a while. I've been taking rotten, blurry pictures lately and it's just too depressing on top of all the other tiny, unimportant but annoying things I've got in my sights lately. Like cleaning out my closet - and having to get rid of most of the clothes from a time gone by where I didn't have to take into account the myriad of ways a child could tug on my top or pull up my skirt and expose my underwears in public. What I have left is just kind of depressing and a statement about my current lifestyle that I should not examine too closely. And then I had to thin out all the stuff in the bathroom, like all the gunk from back when I had time to put on lotion or makeup or dry my hair - good heavens, I haven't been to a hair stylist in over a year. My natural color is NOT my friend. It's not a big deal, but when you stack a few of things things on each other, they get a little heavy.
Thankfully my medication was tweaked a few months ago so my chemicals are all cooperating with each other, so I'm less likely to tear any heads off. Heck, the fact that the Dude is still unscathed after the last few days is a testament to modern psychiatry.
But why can't it be summer every day??