Mia is better but a maniac from the drugs. Owen is sick and screamed his head off all day today. This is all you get from me.
Owen was accepted to preschool yesterday. He'll start in September if he is potty trained and if I don't run from the building clutching him to my bosom screaming "YOU CAN'T HAVE MY BABY" and take him home to have to myself for another year. He'll be two and a half in September, and he is so in love with school, and every morning when we drop Mia off he insists on carrying her school bag from last year so that he can pretend he is going to school too and I think he will be ready and it will be good for him but "WAAAAA MY BABY!" Expect a lot of this in the coming months.
Speaking of Owen, at bedtime tonight he spent five minutes pretending to take my head, throw it up in the air, catch it, and put it back on my body. Odd.
We had three or four inches of snow around these parts this morning, and after we had shoveled and played on the backyard playset and built a snowman taller than the children and accidentally knocked it over and built another one, Mia looked at the snow-covered sidewalks and decided it was a great day for a bike ride. Which is how I came to be pulling Owen in his Radio Flyer wagon and following Mia as she forced her training-wheeled big girl bike through the snow drifts. It seems odd runs in the family.
Last night, Mia's BFF was over for dinner, and I decided it would be fun to let the kids make their own pizzas. So I made the dough from scratch, which I had never done before and it took two tries because the first batch was not happy to see me, and I made the sauce from scratch, and I rolled out individual pizzas for each child and not one of them took more than two bites of pizza. Bitter, but what did I expect? Chris and I, however, loved the pizza and why didn't you people tell me that homemade pizza is so much better than any other pizza ever in the history of the world? And then I used the leftover dough to make cinnamon rolls. I am starting to think I have some type of mental disease.
You know what ticks me the hell off? I'll tell you. 1) People who mail out tax forms on the absolute last legally-allowable day (I'm looking at you, freelance clients, you too, mortgage company). I like to do my taxes early because I hate doing them and then they are done, and these late-mailers ruin January for me every year. 2) The way our letter carrier takes any packages that don't fit inside our mailbox and straps them to the open mailbox door with a rubber band connected to the flag, which has broken the mailbox door three times and the flag twice. Look, I wouldn't want to hike to everyone's door either, but I am tired of fixing the mailbox. 3) People who do not shovel their sidewalks. I mean, if you are unable to shovel your sidewalk, I get it, but if you can shovel your long, steep driveway then you are certainly capable of spending the extra five minutes on the sidewalk. Some of us are trying to ride bikes here.
I have a five-item to-do list for tomorrow, and four of them involve phone calls. I hate phone calls. Anybody want to make my phone calls?