Week In, Week Out

I must experience time differently than other people; at the end of each week, I am quite genuinely astounded that another seven days has gone by. I have a box by my door that I've been meaning to take to Goodwill that feels like its only been there for a week or two, but I'm almost positive it's been there since around the holidays. It couldn't possibly have been almost four months since then, could it?

Every Monday afternoon, I go to my social work class and when I come home I feel delirious that I don't have homework or pumping (it takes me about three days to get four extra ounces of milk) hanging over my head. Then Tuesday comes and I try to catch up on the load of laundry and the like that I missed while prepping for class last week. Then on Wednesday, I try to do something fun with Wiggle since I've been distracted with school work and then catch-up housework. Thursday tends to get away from me. Friday, the weekend starts, and I think about having to start pumping, but also of all the things we want to get done on the weekend - mowing the lawn, painting the trim in the family room, going to Target, etc. I have to scramble on Saturday and Sunday to get my reading done and fit pumping time in, and I feel all rushed and frantic on Monday again which starts the whole cycle anew. Luckily there are only two more weeks of class this semester, and then I will feel the joy of summer vacation again. Why I thought it would be a good idea to take a graduate class the same semester I had Buster is beyond me.

We had a nice Easter even though we did very little for it. We went to the Easter egg scramble at the high school again this year. Wiggle didn't get any eggs in the mad dash for his age group because parents flooded the field with their kids and the eggs were gone in all of two minutes. Wiggle spent that much time gleefully running around in circles; by the time he had his wits about him to look for eggs, they were gone. We sent him again with the four and five year olds and pointed out specific eggs near us to beeline for. He ended up with two, which he was thrilled with. Then he spent about twenty minutes in a bouncy maze at which point we thought we lost him. Then we went home.

Our little J. Crew model

Flashing his best Blue Steel

Going over egg-fetching strategy before the second attempt

The Scramble

Examining the loot

In our best slacker-parent fashion, we forgot about Easter on Saturday after tending to some much neglected yard work. The Easter Bunny was kind enough to retrieve Wiggle's basket from the basement for us and fill it; he even left a couple of eggs filled with socks for Buster. And even though we hadn't dyed eggs, he left a note saying he would come back the next night to hide our eggs. We did hard boil the eggs the next day, but Wiggle was resistant to dying them in a manner which required timeouts and delayed the dying and eventually no eggs were dyed. Wiggle didn't seem to care though, so we'll hope for more festivities next year.

The chocolate bunny

A mouthful of chocolate

If he wasn't wearing pajamas with monkeys wearing sunglasses, I would swear he was a teenager.

The next week, Uncle M came to visit and quickly replaced me and C as Wiggle's favorite person ever. It was a great visit even though we did very little except hang out and play with cars and the floor a lot. San Fransisco is awfully far away, and I hope we can devise a way to see him a little more frequently.

Two handsome guys, chillaxin'

A new way to ride the Sit'n'Spin