Monday, September 27, 2010

Oh My! What a week!  I knew it was going to be too much, that we had arranged too much for the week, but that is just the way it had all worked out.  And as Keary regularly reminds me "We don't do things the way other people do it. When we so something, we do it all the way."  And he is right (one of the few times you will hear me say that), we are the kind of people who if we were going to do the polar bear plunge, we would strip naked and jump in the deep end. In other words, I think I am saying, we are crazy.  Except we wouldn't do a polar bear plunge at all either because I hate being cold, much less being cold and wet.

But we started last week with Gwendolyn starting school, and much to everyone's surprise, it went well.  Then she was even excited about the next day of school and her only complaint at the end of the day was her tumbling class interfered with her play time and made her feet hurt.  And then to top off her day, she went to the fair and rode rides and ate fair food (and neglected to bring her mother, who labored for 32 hours before delivering her big gourd head, the funnel cake she requested) and ran around with the carnies and her grandparents.  Then Friday night, she got to spend the night with her Aunt L.  Gwendolyn had her first official soccer game Saturday morning.  She was so excited all summer to play soccer, even though we really don't know anything about soccer and sufficed to say, everything we know about soccer we learned from Murray on Sesame Street.  She was excited when we go there, but then clammed up and had trouble understanding the whole running with the ball and the other team's kids aren't going to kick the ball back to you.  At one point during the game, she stopped what she was doing to turn around and yell to us to "stop yelling and saying my name!".  Yeah... I remember when my brother and sister and I played sports wishing someone would put a gag on my mom because she just. wouldn't. stop. yelling.  And her voice kept coming out of my mouth, yelling at Gwendolyn to "Get the ball. Get the ball, Gwendolyn! Kick it!! Get it!! Wahooo!!!!".  Fun times.

Saturday night was my sister's (Aunt L for those of you keeping score at home) surprise (except she requested a surprise party so it totally could not be a surprise party) party.  And it wasn't really a party either so much as it was our family all awkwardly sitting together and sharing a meal at a restaurant.  I guess it was nice enough.  I would like to say it was nice though that her boyfriend put into it to coordinate it, but all he did was get a cake.  And I am the one who told him what the cake should look like (actually I told him what the entire party should look like, but he only wanted to do dinner) and who to call to order the cake and if she was busy, who to call for back-up.  And mom called the family to invite them.  And he neglected to call any of her friends to invite them.  Still he sat there and was so stinking proud of himself.  He looked like a cat that had eaten a bird.  But L was pleased that he had done something for her birthday and that is what matters.  Dinner felt awkward though and Gwendolyn had a melt down before we were able to leave. She was exhausted, I was exhausted, Maggie... well, she was tired of being there.  So we came home and couldn't get to sleep.  I can only guess we were over-stimulated.

Sunday morning we overslept for church and I might as well have pissed in Gwendolyn's cheerios.  It didn't matter that we needed the sleep or that we needed to go get snacks to take to her soccer game that afternoon, all that mattered is that she had missed children's church.  Nevermind she has NEVER gone to children's church.  Then we ran late to the soccer game.  And my goodness, the kids on the other team were so much rougher than ours.  I was afraid someone was going to leave on a stretcher.  Those kids kept dog-piling on the ball and tackling each other.  Gwendolyn was not having any of that and instead twirled and jumped around.

She started complaining that afternoon that she didn't feel particularly well.  I told her if she would eat some supper, I would give her some medicine, and she could go to bed.  She didn't want to eat though and argued and spent two and a half hours playing with her food and not eating.  Then, as I was coming out of the bathroom, she ran in there.  She was sick.  And had gotten sick all down the hall. While I cleaned it up, Maggie went in there and checked on her.  Then she decided what her sister really needed was some background music, so she brought her fisher price piano in there and played for her.  Because of course.

I am just hoping for a less exciting week ahead.

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