Trying

Hey kids,

It's just so daunting, this whole trying-to-blog-again thing. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, so I guess I miss it, or need it, or something.

So instead of trying to bring us all up to speed, or trying to recap the last few months and scaring myself off this thingie yet again for another few months, I'll just write about today.

Maybe it's claustrophobia, or cabin fever, but weekends spent at home bring out the worst in all of us. My internal clock screams, "Weekend! Sleep late! Weekend! Sleep late!" but your little unformed clocks buzz you up at the same time as always -- about 6:45-ish. So we are off on the wrong foot from the get-go. Both of you peering intently into my prone, sleepy, grumpy countenance. Wavy with your, "I'm hungry! I want cereal!" and Jakob with your, "Can I play Wii?"

After I got us all breakfasted, wiped down and clothed (with a brief vomitous interlude onto the wall-to-wall, courtesy of Wavy), I hustled us all out of the house. Stewing in our own abode on Saturdays leads to fights, mess-making, slothfulness and general irritability.

First stop, Starbucks, with a hot chocolate for Jakob, a choco milk for Wavy and what was supposed to be a grande iced decaf soy mocha for me. Come to find out, it was not decaf, what-ev. We find a table where we can drink our drinks and plan out the rest of our morning. Wavy of course consumes most of her drink while Jake and I are still waiting on ours, so by the time we are all settled down in our seats, she is ready and able to sick her entire drink down the front of her, onto the table, onto her shoes, onto the floor. It is all so quick that I'm hoping, praying that anyone in the crowded store that happens to look over towards us will assume that she spilled instead of PUKED. About a hundred napkins later, it's all wiped up, and I quickly sneak us guiltily out the door. Yes, I do feel badly for the next customers to seat themselves in the infected area, but what am I gonna do.

Wavy has been under the weather for the past week, but the fever's gone, she's feisty and has her appetite back, the only symptom remaining is the occasional puking. But I thought she had gotten it out of her system, so to speak, with her episode before we left the house. You were chirpy and cheery as I dragged you out to the car, so I removed your sodden coat to reveal the somewhat presentable child underneath, and then we were off to the dollar store.

I picked up some cleaning supplies and you each picked out your "one thing" that I usually allow you to pick out when we go to the dollar store. You both picked out books, Jakob a mini-atlas of the world, and Wavy a sparkly book about mermaid princesses. Grrrrr.

I couldn't with a clear conscience keep Wavy out much longer, so we headed home, where we spent the afternoon engaging in the above-mentioned fights, mess-making, slothfulness and general irritability.

Finally at around dark, I took Jakob out for what I promised him would be "an adventure." But what it was really was errands. We drove around for quite awhile, cruising various parking lots in search of one of those Big Brothers Big Sisters dumpsters where I could unload about three large garbage bags full of clothes. We went to WalMart to do some grocery shopping, and I kept asking you, "Are you mad at me? Are you mad at me yet?" You kept replying that no, you weren't mad, but I could tell that you were slightly annoyed. But you got a dinner at Wendy's (your favorite) out of it, and a stop at the arcade for a couple dollars worth of Tokyo Drift (which you totally rock). Sorry Jake, maybe next weekend's "adventure" will be more adventurous and less, how you say... SUCKY.

Then back home to daddy and Wavy, where you promptly fell asleep for the night. I watched my latest Netflix, a movie called "Code 46," which is a slightly airier-fairier version of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." Or maybe "Gattaca." It was better than okay; a painless way to pass 92 minutes.

Which brings me to here. You guys may read the above and decide that maybe in one long, boring, fell swoop I have already worn out my welcome back into the blogosphere. Whatever you decide, I love you both. Good night.