Another year of football has come and gone! You can't see me, but imagine the happy, happy, joy, joy dance being performed in front of my computer screen. I sat in front of a large tv through a never-ending super bowl game last night, and I still couldn't tell you who was playing, much less who won. But the chicken wings were tasty (thanks, Kohler!) so all in all it wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. You'd think with two football loving parents, a football obsessed spouse, a football adoring best friend, and two out of three children who enjoy and can follow the game with a minimum of knowledge, that I would really learn to appreciate the sport. Alas, no. No matter how many well meaning people have tried to teach me the rules and point of this game, I simply stare at the screen and daydream in spite of really trying to pay attention. I think I have football ADD. I'm just thrilled no one will try to convert me again for another few months.
Speaking of football (sheesh, who would have ever thought I could write a whole post on that?!), I have been attempting to record Gianni and Milo in a rousing game of fetch, but every single time I sneak out the camera and press the button, they completely stop and stare at me. They refuse to even look cute. Milo won't pick up the ball and instead starts dragging his rump on the carpet, and Gianni wanders off in sudden search of nourishment while digging for gold up his nose. So I give up. But trust me, it really is adorable when they get going and when the papparazi isn't stalking them.
The girls have rigged up hammocks in their bed. They tied sheets to the bottom of the top bunk by their four corners, and then snuggle up inside with their books and flashlights and snacks. It was one of those great kid ideas that their know-it-all parents told them wouldn't work. Normally those know-it-all parents are correct: "No, you can't climb a tree and pull your sister, baby brother, dog, food, television, etc, up in a basket," "No, you can't dry your hair in the clothes dryer," "No, you can't drive the car even if the policeman isn't looking," "No, you can't sell your rock collection in a stand in the driveway," "No, you can't get a motorcycle," etc etc etc.
Mike is in Texas for the week, training. I took him to the airport at 5 am this morning and since we didn't want to wake all the kids for a very short car drive, we snuck out and then I snuck back (and back to bed). At 7:45 when I woke back up, Gianni, who is normally a very early riser was still silent from his bedroom. As I'm making coffee and blowing on his oatmeal I'm thinking "Oh man, what if someone was watching the house? What if they came in right behind me and took him? What if he's been gone for like, two hours, and I've been snoozing the whole time? " I was plagued with awful scenarios of what could have happened the ten minutes I left them. Maybe someone heard Mike and I mention this plan and they were waiting for us to pull out of the garage? There were visions of Mission: Impossible looking men scaling down my roof and ransom notes cut from newspaper letters arriving in the mail. Or do they just call with ransom demands these days? Or text? Or put something up on your Facebook page? 'You have been poked by a kidnapper! Poke back?' Anyway, I panicked and had to rush into his room and he looked at me from his crib all befuddled and sleep eyed. So, disaster averted. It's hard giving your children a little extra responsibility! Mike and I also snuck out the other day when G was napping and the girls were watching a movie. We ran down to the YMCA and worked out together for a quick 25 minutes and left Cora in charge. We panicked a bit then, too, thinking we'd come home to find the house surrounded by crime scene tape, a fire engine parked in the driveway, and employees from Health and Welfare sitting on our couch. "Hello, Mr and Mrs. Williams, nice of you to come home at last. Would you like your children to go to the same foster home, or should we split them up forever?" In reality, nothing had changed in the time we were gone. Baby was still snoring, Anna was jumping off the walls, and Cora was mastering Wii in the exact same spot we left her. Anxiety attack for nothing! In the immortal words of Cora/SpongeBob,
"Oh, tarter sauce!"