Sunday, March 16, 2014

The Extreme Champions

No words.  No words because I am insane amounts of exhausted.  The kind of exhausted where you nap for nearly four hours and still go to bed before nine.   (This is when I'm thankful that I have a chronic illness that is classified by fatigue instead of some type of horrific symptom...)
The Destination Imagination competition was yesterday.  And I am so insanely proud of our team.  This is our second year together as a full team.  Half of us have been together for four years.  They've discovered how each other operates, become acquainted with their teammates' strengths and weaknesses.  And I've had the privilege to watch them grow, feel a distinct ownership and pride over their accomplishments.  They scream and bicker for four months.  And then, somehow, they produce quality work in the fifth month.  This is the fourth time I've watched this phenomenon occur.  I have no idea how they do it.  But they, in the end, they pull it all together and present something amazing. 
I love these kids.  Love how I can discipline them as my own.  Love how they call me "coach" to get my attention.  Love how they're so full of ideas that they're literally bursting, yelling over each other, clamoring to share and be a central component of the team. 
But right now I'm exhausted.  Even though I didn't do anything.
I might just need another nap.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

I am crabby


Well, because Lee and I spent two hours at Sprint this morning.  With the baby twins.

That, my friends, is the definition of hell.

And because I spilled an entire bowl of oatmeal.  On the counter.  On the stove.  On the floor.  On my shirt.  And my pants.  And my Uggs.

Have you ever cleaned up oatmeal that has splattered over multiple surfaces? 

Yeah.  It's super fun.  Lee and I are contemplating moving so as to avoid the disaster. 

My only consolation is that is doesn't seem anywhere near as horrible as the time my little brother spilled an entire bottle of olive oil on the floor.  When my mom was pregnant.  And sick.

Nothing tops that.

Well, maybe the time my uncles played in the fireplace ashes and then tried to clean themselves up using toothpaste.

Did someone say "Fun Dip?"

So it's pretty damn obvious that I can't complain.  Because, OMFG, can you imagine cleaning up an ENTIRE BOTTLE OF OLIVE OIL?  And I seriously have no idea how my grandmother removed the amalgamation of ashes and toothpaste from my uncles.

Clearly, I need to count my blessings.

Especially because Arielle and Josiah squirreled away some Fun Dip in their play kitchen.  Which they silently ate this afternoon.

This story could end up in so many unfortunate places it's rather terrifying.

Arielle's suave enough to keep her green tongue hidden.

Josiah?  Yeah, he paraded proudly into the family room, displaying his tongue.  Which, to Arielle's great chagrin, sort of gave away their hidden Fun Dip stash.

But how can you still be crabby after seeing that tongue?  Particularly when you consider how lucky you are that there isn't Fun Dip EVERYWHERE all over the playroom.

Well, you can't remain crabby.  You just can't.  At least, not until after bathtime.  When something like this happens:

Then you're perfectly capable of being crabby again.