A bit of this, a little of that.

Hooooowwwwdy Ho. I am basking in the glow of my smug happiness. With my last post, not only did I get to vent, get affirmation on my feelings, and get a response from my husband, whom tears my heart out with his silence each time I put grueling effort into a good read, but MAIDA COMMENTED ON MY BLOG. (Don't be hate'n playas). In a perfect world, this wouldn't cause me gloat and say in so many words,"Na-nana-nanan-na! " But most if not all of you know the real me, and I have to point out that I just massively rock. That being said, I will be ending my bragging rights now...for a while, anyway. (Okay, I realize the possibility is high that Maida just decided to become part of the Anderson commenters, because a lot of us have said that comments are what make this whole posting-on-our-blogs, worthwhile. But I still have to point out, because I'm THAT person, that my blog is where it all began. BFF Maida!)
Anyway, this was a good week. Not just because of the previous statements, however fabulous they may be, but....just because? I mean, in all honesty, I was still grouchy a few days, and I had my "crying" day on Saturday, and I think I started a bit early on Friday night, but still. All in all, it was better than average. Just the fact that I'm saying this means there is hope for me. Hope for the next drug-free about sevenish months...(cause, you know, I have to feed little Sydney for a while after she comes, and though I don't do it for as long as recommended, I figure she'll have two older siblings to fill her in on how it was still a HUGE sacrifice for the entire family), anyway, that these next months can be overcome. Maybe not entirely happily so, but overcome, just the same. Am I an adult, or what? I'm a giver. That's what I am. Maybe Jeff should paint a mural of me...with one of those otherworldly haloes around my head, while I smile off into the distance. That's how I'm feeling.
To be fair, though, I was a bit pissy on Saturday. Until I got the kitchen, and made the kids get the living room, under control. I took a picture today of what our weekends look like. The kids work all week to try not to be whiney, or fight, or just bratty in general to get "bedtime points". For those of you that don't know what they are, it's just Jeff's and my way of ensuring that we can watch our shows in peace around 9:30pm. Technically, we try to start around 8:30, but realize there will be at least five interruptions of MASS IMPORTANCE before they finally are convinced that should they push our buttons one more time, they will forfeit any bedtime point we were willing to give. In turn, they redeem their bedtime points--they each must have at least four, (one for each night), for an evening of freedom in the living room, where they have full access to the fridge, movies, and bedtime is whenever and wherever they crash. (They just know that Jeff and I still require our time for shows, and that though we are more lenient on Friday nights about their constant interruptions, we still get grouchy after the tenth one. And yes, there is always at least a tenth interruption). Anyway, as you can see, our home quickly turns into a dumping zone when they are allowed their full redemption of bedtime points. It seems that EVERY toy they have in their room makes its way to the living room floor, along with blankets, pillows, snacks, water bottles, etc. It's enough to make me feel like strangling everyone, however, it's also a terriffic bargaining tool, so I have to take the good with the terrible. (Also, I had to take a "tame" picture of the floor, because I'm just too embarrassed of this pigsty to let you all know what kind of squalor we live in during the weekends).
And though we try to give the children some rewards for keeping themselves in check, like all chaos, there are severe downsides. The floors are usually so covered in previous metioned stuff that favorites are often damaged in the mess...because Cole likes to throw stuff, Riley likes to lay on top of everything, and neither of them want to pick up anything unless I'm threatening not to make any breakfast/lunch/dinner/or snacks the next day. So Friday night Riley rushes into our room with one of her Littlest Pet Shop toys. Cole evidently threw it for NO reason, and it's head broke off. I was actually quite impressed with Riley's ability to keep herself together. (Afterall, this time it was her little black spider, and for the record, it is well-loved). The tears were there, her voice was warbly, but she held it in, while Jeff inspected the damage, and told her, "I'll see what I can do". Now this is always amazing to me...because I grew up in a house where Mom was overjoyed to throw all our crap away, and I completely picked up on it. The kids now know that if they show me anything that is slightly damaged, my reply will either be, "then toss it"(my foremost and favorite), or "just wait
till your dad gets home and ask him". Which always works better on both Riley and Cole. Lately it's kind of gotten to the point that if Jeff isn't here, they'll show me the damage for a little bit of sympathy, and then tell me that they're "just going to wait until Dad gets home, and he'll probably fix it."
I usually look at their damaged stuff and think to myself, "yeah right. That's never getting fixed". But Jeff always impresses me. He's the guy that used to sew, actually sew Riley's rubber Polly Pocket clothes after they'd been torn by her jamming their little sharp feet in too hard. Eight stitches into a Polly Pockety rubber bathing suit top is no small feat, I will attest. I tried it once, and got so mad that I had Riley crying and me swearing while tearing Polly's shawl in half because it was just too difficult. (I was even on my meds at the time--yes, it's true).
So I looked on while Riley was showing us what I thought was the end of her little black spider, and was surprised when Jeff promised he'd fix it the next day. Sure enough, I heard the drill going in the afternoon, and thought he was making some home improvements. But at a closer look, found that he was fixing Riley's toy. And apparently, he'd made the same alterations to a transformer earlier this week, for Cole. Crazy enough, they just don't bounch back when you twist their little machine arms all the way around. (So take that, all my in-laws that are making major home rennovations. My husband puts his extra time and energies into working on my children's endless supply of toys).
You may ask why I posted that entire story, but this is my life, so take it or leave it. I also wanted to point out, in my skewed way, how much I think of Jeff. How just in these little, trivial things I see how much he loves my babies and me. So I have to kind of brag about it, because I'm a braggart, and I enjoy it so much. (Just in case you hadn't noticed).