Spectacle

Tyler asked me once why I always insist on making a spectacle out of myself. I maintain that it happens organically without any help from me.

Take, for example, what just happened. I woke up at 6:30 and actually got dressed in real clothes. Lillian and Nora woke up about 7:30 and I brought them downstairs and got them set up for breakfast. Nora got Cheerios with yogurt instead of milk, with which she made quite a mess. She had it all over her, and proceeded to rub her yogurty face all over my shorts. I got her cleaned up, and then decided to put a load of laundry in, so I just took off my shorts and threw them in.

I went downstairs and sat on the couch with a book - the couch that's right in front of the front door, and blinds on the little window right next to the door were open. Right then, my neighbor John knocked on the door. I could see it was him due to the open blinds. I couldn't run past the door to go upstairs to get some shorts real quick, because he'd see. I looked around in vain for some sort of cover up, and then just decided to open the door a crack, and hide. I was so flustered, I'm afraid I was a little rude as I took the flash drive that Tyler left at his house, awkwardly explained that I wasn't wearing any pants, and then shut the door as soon as possible. John, being super nice, just laughed it off, but it was awkward.

See how this wasn't really my fault?

Monsoon Birthday

Untitled from Amanda Ball on Vimeo.

Mother Nature was kind enough to give me a pretty rockin' monsoon for my birthday.

Idle Prattle

Antlers

Lillian has reached the age of idle prattle. She's been here for a while, but it seems to be reaching some sort of fever pitch.

Last night, I was trying to watch the last 5 minutes of Plain Jane, a show I had not so much as heard of 30 minutes prior, where they take shy, plain women and teach them how to flirt and be assertive and pluck their eyebrows in order to help them get the guy. We were at the getting the guy part: the exciting, dramatic part, and Lillian starts up with her chatter.

"Lillian, be quiet for just a minute, I'm trying to watch this."
"I have to be quiet, or Nora?"
"You, be quiet for just a second."
"You're watching this?"
"Yes, I'm watching this and you keep talking. Be quiet."
"What is this show?"
"It's my show. Shhhhhh."
"It's a quiet show?"
"Lillian, stop talking."
"Can I use a whisper voice?"
"Sure, how about you whisper in the other room?"

She did this for the last five dramatic, guy getting minutes. Solid. No let up.

Actually, she does this all day long. Solid. No let up. My mom pointed out that it's not so much that she talks and talks and talks. It's that she expects you to answer. Every. Time. And there is much distress if you ignore her, or, heaven forbid, you're in the bathroom, or trying to sleep, or on the phone.

I like her though. Don't let my irritation fool you.

Look down, now look up. Your kids are now in a sandbox.

One of my projects I had while away from work when Ethan was born was to build a sandbox. Lillian and I bought all of the materials and sand and cut and assembled it in most of one day. Lillian spent most of her time playing with my hand tools, but she did hand me a screwdriver every now and then. It just so happened that I found a smokin' deal on a plunge router a day or two before I built the box, so I decided to make good use of it and put the kids names on the side: "See Amanda, we did need a router." Hopefully I don't have to have another child before I have time to build something again.