closer

I don't know what possessed me, but I bought something from Oriental Trading Co., which means that I (willingly) put myself on lists to get some of the crappiest catalogs known to man.

I should back up, are you familiar with Oriental Trading Company? It's a catalog company that sells plastic crap in the form of foam fingers, with discount pricing on ordering multiples. I'm pretty sure their slogan is something like 'we sell China' umm, I mean... 'we sell fun'.

And that's exactly the trap that my boys have fallen into.

They leaped across the counter to grab the catalog from the pile of mail before I had the chance to throw it into the recycling.

Henry stared at the catalog, mouth slightly hanging open, "whaaaat's this?" (I swear, I can see a slight bit of drool too).

I tried to downplay it; "it's just a catalog, it's full of junk..."

It was pointless though, he was already thumbing through the pages.

And out of the million and one pieces of crap in the catalog, what does he point out that he'd loved to have?

The life-sized inflatable palm tree. (Poor Henry, he has some weird obsession with palm trees and here he is, living in the tundra of ol' Minnesota).

Wyatt grabs the catalog out of Henry's hands and points to the palm tree on the back page.

"No way! We should get this one!" He waved a picture in front of us, it's the (slightly smaller) inflatable palm tree in pool cooler.


He continues "Mom, this would be a great idea. You could finally get rid of our freezer and put all our drink in there with the ice instead. It would be perfect for your drinks... we could use it at your parties!"

Did you notice how he mentions drinks and parties and getting rid of a kitchen appliance?

Geesh, this kid sure does know how to close a sale.

lather, rinse, repeat

It's one of those weeks were everything feels like you've done it before.

I've sat in on the same library story time for seven years now. I've done the same 'baby shark' song some million times in my life, or so it feels. I've hovered over the bouncy house at the Rec Center the same way that I did seven years ago. I've wiped the kitchen table probably a billion times, the same way every day, every meal, cleaning from top to bottom... that phrase still runs through my head all the time and whoever owes it, I want to slap them.

This kind of week puts me on auto.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Henry moans over chores that he has to do, "when do I get to take a break from making my bed?"

I snap back at him "I don't like making your breakfast everyday, but I have to, it's just something I have to do!" I'm too harsh and I regret it immediately.

But it gets under my skin. Sometimes you just don't get a break.

By the third child, and I'm saying this in all honesty, there are things that lose their luster.

Because I've done it all before.

But I do the story times, the bouncy houses, the Laurie Berkner, the parks, because they are new to her.

And in this blog, I've been blogging for four years and when I sit down to type something up, it feels like I've written it before. 'It's the same shit I've done before, maybe I should just link it up and be done with it.'

But I'm better than that. Or so I want to believe I am... so I haven't posted.

Maybe I've taken a break from the one thing that I can take break from.

A little less lather, rinse, repeat.

big dreamer

I'm not good at playing with my kids. I'm not saying I don't, I'm just saying I'm not good at sitting there, legs crossed, getting down and dirty on the hardwood floor, and playing on their level of imagination.

It doesn't help that Henry, our big dreamer, wants to make things like pretend atomic bombs or solar paneled windmills to flush the toilet for him. Some things are just impossible for me to wrap my head around and I get frustrated that I can't explain to him why it's not possible for us to do such and such.

My husband is so much better at this; he listens, cheers him on for being so creative in his thinking, and then turns to YouTube to see what ideas they can come up with... and they can spend the next hour or so looking at videos of go-carts and LED lights.

So, this weekend, when Henry asked me to play Lego's with him, I almost teared up, saying: "Yes! I can play Lego's with you". This is something (finally) doable.

And what does a totally creative, big dreamer, think outside the box, kind of mom like me make with Lego's and her 8 year old son?

A little shopping center; complete with a bowling alley, flower shop, fire station and of course, a Target.


What kind of town would it be without a Target?

(I can't even imagine the horror of that nightmare.)