Sophie was standing on a chair in the kitchen helping me. Willow came up to her, grabbed her by the hand, and said, "C’mon!" and led her into the living room to play. Is it weird that I can’t decide if I’m heartbroken or happy about the fact that my last baby isn’t a baby anymore?
I’ve been getting more serious about getting my esthetician (gotta learn to spell it first, though) license, but am running into a roadblock. The classes are 21 hours a week, split Monday through Thursday nights from 5:30 to 9:45 and Saturday morning from 9-2. Not ideal for me. John gets home from work at either 4:30 or about 10, but one of the two 10 o’clock days changes each week. You’re confused? Imagine me trying to hire a babysitter so I can go to class! You need me every Tuesday and one other day a week, but you won’t know which day it is until the Friday of the week before, or possibly that Monday? Uh, and you’re paying how much? Well, I think I’m busy then. . .
I’m going to send in the application anyway, since there is a waiting list and I wouldn’t be able to start until the fall of 2006. Maybe I can figure something out by then!
The boys are at school this very minute, having Valentine’s Day parties. There is no school for them next week, and we are all ready for the break. Perhaps I’m a whimp, but going back and forth to school two or three times a day with the little ones is a pain. Somebody already has or needs to poop. Somebody is or needs to be sleeping. Both the girls shuck their shoes quick as I can shoe them, and I swear I put on nineteen shoes for two girls so we can go. Today we took Nate at 11:20 and Sophie wore red footed pjs with bumblebee striped rainboots and a hot pink coat. Hair and teeth were unbrushed, of course. Quite the sight.
Suppose I ought to finish my cup of Mate Latte tea (I want to get my hands on some Peet’s Lemon Rose tea, it’s so so good) and be somewhat productive before I go get the boys and their tons of Friday before vacation papers. I’ll try and be back more often.