Queen For a Day

I've just recently realized that I am influenced in my speech by whatever book I happen to be reading at the time. The diction, the dialect, the writing style, it all apparently has a subtle affect on me. For instance, I'm currently 365 pages into Queen Of This Realm, which is a work of historical fiction that is written as if it were the memoirs of Queen Elizabeth the 1st. It's great and I am thoroughly enjoying it, but that is beside the point.

The point is that as I was reading a bed-time book to my boys the other day I said something that made me do a double-take. I forget what book it was -- maybe Mother Goose, or Where the Wild Things Are -- but it was making them laugh. That laughter turned into them standing up on the bed and belly flopping back down onto the mattress. (It doesn't take much to distract them....) In my frustration with them I said, rather sharply, "BOYS! Shall I stop reading?!?" And there it was. My double-take. Shall? Did I just say "Shall?" I can't even imagine when was the last time I used that word in any sort of conversation -- but it occured to me that the Queen "shall's" all over the place. (Perhaps I even used a slight English accent.....) By the time I am done with this book, my discipline will go something like this: "My lords! If you do not stop this insolent behavior at once I shall conclude my reading immediately!" Or maybe "Pray you do not disobey me again or you shall be sent to the Tower with great haste! Surely such wise gentlemen as yourselves understand that should you not come to your senses shortly and obey my commands, you shall find yourselves on the rack!"

Hand Puppets

Landis is a little boy with a big imagination. We joke that he could entertain himself for hours in a paper bag, and for a while now he's been really into his "hand puppets". (If you are curious as to what those hand puppets might be, hold your hand up in front of your face. Now pretend to have it talk to you in the same way that you would if it were actually in a puppet. Yep. That's it. No additional costume necessary.) He can get lost in his own little hand-puppet world at any given moment in any given day. Yesterday I was watching him brush his teeth, but he didn't know I was there. Right in the middle of brushing he abruptly stopped, spit, and layed his toothbrush down on the counter. Up came the hands.

Says the left hand: "Hi"

Right hand: "Hi"

Left hand: "What are you doing?"

Right hand: "I'm brushing he's teeth."

Left hand: "Oh. Ok."

And then he resumed brushing........

I'll be over here.... under this pile of laundry

I have a bed wetter. God love him, he pee's up the bed every single night, pretty much without fail. Which, in turn, means that I can NEVER get ahead of the laundry. Piles of sheets and soaking wet PJ's follow me everywhere, pushing and shoving their way up to the front of the laundry line. (Oh, don't tell me about pull-ups -- we use them, and he fills them to overflowing. And don't tell me to limit his liquids -- we tried. It didn't work. The real dilemma is that he sleeps like a rock. The act of peeing doesn't even make him stir. It's amazing, really, to watch him sleep, or to try to wake him up. But I digress.........I believe I was bitching about laundry....)

Why is it that once you have kids the laundry is never, ever, ever done? I bust my butt all day, schlepping things from washer to dryer, dryer to couch (I will admit that I fold from the couch while I watch Oprah. There has to be a silver lining somewhere, doesn't there?), and if I'm lucky I manage to get it all neatly folded and back into seperate laundry baskets in seperate bedrooms, ready to be put away at the end of the day. Sometimes I even manage to get it put away before day's end, and then I feel SO accomplished. "Ha ha ha!!! I beat you, laundry! I am crossing you off my list! You are done!!"

But the laundry just smirks at me, for it has only lulled me into a false sense of victory. You-Know-Who emerges from his nap, soaking from head to toe. Mike comes in the door from work and discards his sweaty, filthy clothes onto the pile that has already begun to form. Then bathtime hits, and the pile grows.

Is it too much to ask that my family not wear clothes, or use towels, or washcloths, or need clean sheets...........Just for one day?