Today was the wedding of Lewis' cousin Nick and also officially "the most exciting day of Kylie's life." Today was the day she got to be a flower girl. She had been looking forward to this day for months and months and I'm pretty sure that she couldn't have been more excited (and more nervous) if it had been her actual wedding day. (Which.....good golly....is years and years away...I hope. I'm not ready to think about that just yet.) She looked beautiful in her red and white dress with her brand new patten leather Mary-Janes (with a heel, no less) and cute little wreath of flowers on her head. She was smiling from ear to ear as she got to walk down the aisle tossing rose petals from side to side and said she only got a "teeny" bit nervous in front of all of those people.
And that was all good and fun....but the pure comedy came later with Savannah. (Did we expect anything less.) On the drink table there were two kinds of drinks: Punch and Wine. And wouldn't you know that you could barely tell one from the other. So.....my Mother-in-law (being the wise woman that she is) told me that I might want to point out the difference out to my kids so that they didn't accidentally grab a glass of wine. I took Zach and Kylie over there and told them that if they needed a drink to take one from the area of the table marked "punch" and it was all good. Then later....as I was standing in line chatting it up with Lewis' Aunt and waiting for my chance to load hoards of hot wings onto my plate, I see, (out of the corner of my eye), Savy grab a glass from the "wine" section of the table and start heading back to sit down.(Whoopsie....guess I forgot to show Savannah where not to grab her drink from...)
Not wanting to make a scene (but still managing to make one anyway) I yell....."NOOOOOOO.....Savannah....." and go running across the lawn to intercept her before she took a big ol' swig. Then I very non-chalantly grab the glass away from her and tell her that I'll get her a new glass of punch. Later, at the table, as we were reliving the humor of it all, Lewis says to me: "What's the worst that could have happened? She would have taken a sip and found out it really wasn't what she thought it was?"
Well.....Lewis.....I prefer not to be arrested by the authorities for letting my four year old drink wine. And also......Hello??!!! She's FOUR. Four. Did we forget.....wine is NOT okay for a four year old? At any time. In any quantity.
The last little moment of humor came when it was time to give the toast. They made the announcement to gather round so that the bride and groom could toast and suddenly Savannah starts tugging on my arm..."Mom....I want some toast. Where's the toast? Will you go and get me some toast?" One would think she was a little bit tipsy....but let me re-stress.....she did NOT have a sip of the wine. I promise.
This morning...in the wee wee hours of the morning....I was awakened three times in three hours by three different children. Are you confused? Well....I was too. I mean really....what was the deal?? After fumbling around in a sleep-deprived stupor...playing musical beds and taking care of one child after another I was ready to crawl back into bed and sleep until the cows came home. (Which would be a very long time for me seeing as we don't have any cows.) Alas....this was not to be. At 7:24 I hear this from my youngest two:
"Then get a snack." I tell them. (Yeah....that's right. Now my dirty little secret comes out. I have been known to let my children eat goldfish to "tide them over until breakfast" at 7:24 in the morning. So sue me. I gots to survive somehow.)
"I wanna get dressed."
"Then do it yourself." I mumble. I mean really. Who's kid's are these anyway?
And why, oh why, won't they just let me sleep???!!! I need a nanny. And a private chef. And some Ambien.....for me ( and maybe for the kids so that they won't keep waking up at all hours of the night!)
Is that so much to ask?
Today I was flipping through the channels of boring old Saturday T.V when I came across the marathon of a show called "Hoarders" on A&E.
Well.......5 hours later I was sufficiently horrified, disgusted, and dry-heaved out! I have never, ever, in all my years seen a show so terrible, horrifying, and strangely intriguing at the same time. One lady (among the many that I saw....like I said.....it was a marathon) had so many cats that when they came into the house to remove the cats they found over Seventy-Five cats! (That's right people.....not a typo....SEVENTY-FIVE cats.) And that's not even including the number of dead cat carcasses and skeletons that they found as they were cleaning the house.
I couldn't help but watch in a strange "can't look away from a car crash" sort of way. It was just so beyond anything I had ever seen before. And it was slightly terrifying because many of these people had not been hoarders all their life, but then something set them off and BAM! They were collecting crap and garbage and cats like it was no body's business. It left me wondering....could I possibly have the hoarding gene inside me just waiting to rear it's ugly head and send me on a downward spiral of collecting randomness and junk?
If you'll excuse me....I think I have some organizing to do.....