|wouldn't it be cute if the kids posed with me?|
|if for reasons known only to you,|
you actually want the details of
this mess-fest, or you just
want to know where NOT
to shop, you're going to
have to scroll further down
Last night marked the second night of Obi's temporary Exodus with the big boys three, leaving me with just Larry, Curly and Moe (you thought those would be the big boys? No, they would be the three little pigs the mother just couldn't wait to kick out.)
Exhausted from twiddling my split ends, eight loads of laundry, and overcoming my outrage after viewing Pocahontas traipse half naked around the woods of New England, decided to let the cute little Stooges just get into my bed and driiiift off. We said a decade, then, as per our ritual, let them each choose a mom-sung song. AnneMarie chose "Lord of the Dance," and after feeling proud of my heartfelt, Celtic-accent infused rendition for the only captive audience ever to appreciate my crooning, awaited the anticipation of what Momo might choose. "Mary had a Little Lamb," but sung by AnneMarie. Fine. Isaac wisely skipped his turn, fearing getting on my bad side. AnneMarie asked for a second round to which I consented with the hopes of my singing redemption. "Oranges and Lemons," sung by herself. At which point I was the first one off to sleep.
Actually, it was a with a blithe spirit, despite the (un)intentional dig. Have you ever been sung to sleep by your kids? It was surprisingly soothing and gave me that "home" feeling I have rarely felt since moving to the Central Flo.
I woke up (with Isaac's fat head on my arm) worrying about those schlumps far away and if they would make it to Mass. Slithering my way outta there, as to not wake up sleeping beauty and his ugly step-sisters, I looked up Mass times in the city where the missing Eses are visiting, to find that the only Mass there is at 7. In the morning. Quickly texting Obi at what was five their time, the conversation went like this, ver textum:
Me: Hey! The only Mass there is at 7!!!
Obi:I know, we are already up and ready, Love.
Me: Wow! What a Holy Boy you are.
Obi:I remembered last night and looked it up.
Me: You are so good.
Obi:The boys actually reminded me.
Me: They are better than I give them credit for.
Obi:Yeah, they said we don't have to go to Mass tomorrow, right?
Good for them, good for them.
But our morning went quite swimmingly, or would have if I could have just remembered they were gone and not just being their normal lazy selves. After I wandered from empty room to empty room, hustling ghost children, and yelling at Joseph to AT LEAST change his underwear, realized I needed to break free from habit and enjoy the moment. And my coffee, lots and lots of coffee.
Brother-free, Isaac followed "Rie" around, forcing her to sword fight while dodging a much-deserved diaper change.
AnneMarie, while not sword fighting and still high from her serenading success story from last night, grabbed a fake micro-phone and sang her famous homespun version of any-popsong-ever-written, including such hits as "Yeah, yeah, YEAH!" and that well loved, "Ooh, ooh, OOOH." She is going places.
|just whip it|
Momo, whom I had abandoned in the shower to her own non-devices in order to hunt down the boys (whom I was sure weren't getting ready, but weren't actually here,) I found wondering the hallways in a dingy bathrobe she must have pulled out from under the bed because I hadn't heard her screaming for a towel PLEASE.
|i'm making the bathrobe clean|
with my cleanness, I am rubbing
off on IT
Deftly, with the lightning quickness of a mother sloth, I towel dried Momo, re-diapered Isaac, directed AnneMarie to a hairbrush, plucked my eyebrows while wondering, "Do I look like Jennifer Lawrence AT ALL?" (No.) And we were on our way to Mass! Happy Sunday!
Details, but only because I'm obliged:
Infinity scarf I cannot seem to figure out how to drape properly and am ready to ditch, and slouchy black shirt: Old Navy
Purple skirt that has seen better days and previously much, much less to have to support: Merona from the 90's
Black sandal wedges: Bjorndal
Creepily spot on joker imitation: courtesy entertainment for the kids looking in disbelief that I am photographing myself
Yellowing teeth: coffee and wine, duh! my teeth are too sensitive to white strips, a'ight?
Horribly fake and outgrowing highlights: the cheap mohawk-sporting, law enforcement officer turned hairdresser grandma that wanted to give me some "drama". Don't judge!
Thanks for letting me crash the party over at Fine Linen and Purple!