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what's up... whenever.

(Appropriate title adjustment courtesy of a genius suggestion made by my sweet friend Anastasia.)

Oh, guys.  Oooooh, guys.  It's been three weeks since a W.U.W. post.  GAH I AM FAILING AS A MOM AND BLOG WRITER I AM SO ASHAMED.  Not ashamed enough to mend my errant ways, clearly, but at least ashamed enough to use all-caps, which I think testifies to my sincerity of heart.

We're going to have to do a fly-over.  I realize I could just count my losses and recount only this week a bit more in-depth instead, but I have a legacy to document.  Someday, when I am old and frail and bossing my children around from my perch at the respective heads of their own families' dining tables, I will tell them to go back to my blog and read about their childhoods, which they will do under threat of being cut from our measly will.  (All I have to leave them is this blog, ironically, so I'm doing the kind thing and just giving them their inheritance while I can still watch them enjoy it.  It really is altruistic, all my geriatric bossiness.)

And if there are gaping holes in the account?  There are weeks and weeks undocumented in the written history of our family experience?  What then?  Oh, I can't and won't think about it.  So instead, I will give a very shallow summary of our last few weeks so as to assuage my hypothetical future conscience. K? K.

There was one occurrence of particular note that must be mentioned:  Atticus turned eight years old and, yeahyeahyeah, I know you already know.  Or at least, if you've been a good faithful reader of this lately-spotty blog, you already know.  Atticus turned eight years old, and my motherheart COULDN'T TAKE IT.  But Eight Years Old does not care about broken motherhearts.  It does not care about the cruelty of passing time and whatever.  Eight Years Old just wants oatmeal for breakfast, so oatmeal it shall have.



Army had a half-day (read: Todd got off work early), so he and Atticus went out to lunch at THE local pizza place.  Atticus loaded up his pizza with so. much. hot sauce.  Because Eight Years Old eats fire.







For dinner, Atticus requested Buffalo Wild Wings, so we ate it relatively quickly (read: it took us less than an hour at the table, which is warp speed for us), then we headed out to Hy-Vee to pick out a Christmas tree.  It was hard to really tell what we were getting, since all the trees were wrapped up all skinnytight.  So it was a matter of making an educated guess based on height, and straightness, and 'heft.'  It's like picking celery, really, only a really really big stalk of it that you have to bungee to the roof of your car.  We ended up lucking out and getting a truly incredible tree.

This past Sunday, we got out all the decorations and let the kids (in their various states of appropriate dress) go to town hanging theirs.  Decorating the tree always looks way more enjoyable in photos and in hindsight than it was in real-time.





Todd went on an elder retreat last weekend, so the kids and I trekked out to Aldi on Friday night, since I hadn't bought groceries in three weeks.  I HUNKER DOWN during pre-Christmas shopping season.  There are some FREAKS in the world, and they all show their scary faces and scarier driving skills in absolute droves around the holidays.  No thanks.  I'd rather do without groceries then wade through that noise.  But I braved it, since Friday night at 7:00 isn't typically mass-riot time.  I will say it went smoothly for what it was, but I'm looking forward to another three weeks of not needing to leave my house for any reason.

And here are just a couple rando shots of rando life.  First, Penelope wanted to take my picture, and because I can't just sit and smile for a portrait like a normal person, I do what any person does when they're awkward in front of the camera: I make weird faces.  I never take selfies for this reason, because I always look half-crazed and/or smarmy.



This photo somehow then inspired Atticus to want to take a photo of Penelope, who did her own weird faces.  I really am training up my daughter in the knowledge and instruction of the socially awkward.  But she's way cuter at it than I am.



And lastly, I cannot tell you how much this girl has my back.  She is my right hand man.  My gal.  She literally came out of her bedroom today with a cape and a mask on and said, "I'm SuperHelper! What can I do for you today?"  And I was like, that's about right.  WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT HER?!


And other than that, it's been a lot of minutiae around here... slowly getting the Christmas decorations out and put up, listening to the Pandora Christmas station, eating a lot of bacon.

WHEW.  That was a long post about a long stretch of time.  But now I can say the legacy I'm leaving my kids is untarnished and void of, well, voids.  It feels good.  It feels really good.

1 comment :

todd said...

I am really looking forward to reading these someday in front of a fireplace under a blanket laughing at how good our lives together have been.