Better Late Than Eaten By A Woodchuck

Once upon a time, I used to get places five minutes early so as to avoid being late. During those long ago days, on the rare occasion that I was late getting somewhere, I felt terribly embarrassed and blamed the traffic or my faulty alarm or, sometimes, the fact that I'd locked myself out of my car. (Sidenote: It's been a really long time since I've locked myself out of the car. Progress!)

Nowadays, I am never on time. Never. Ever. But at least my excuses have become more entertaining:

-I told the children to put on their shoes and then, I went to find my phone and keys. When I got back, they were in the backyard, chasing each other with butterfly nets and eating more of my seedlings. Barefoot, of course.

-I told the five-year-old to get the keys and unlock the car door. I now remember that I should never, ever give the children permission to touch the keys when I am not there to monitor said touching because they will put them down somewhere and forget where they put them. (They were eventually found in the pantry beside the gummy vitamins.)

-I gave one of them a glass of water, which he promptly spilled. And then, in an attempt to be helpful, he lay down in the puddle to "wipe it up" with his shirt. Which he then had to change.

-The cat ran out the door as we were leaving. Once he got outside, he remembered that he hates being outside, but he was too proud to go back inside, so he stood there hissing and spitting until I went and got him.

-I told the children that if they didn't want to wear shoes right that moment, they could carry their shoes to the car. And because I neglected to say that they should then carry those shoes into the car, they left them lined up on the driveway and informed me of that fact after we had turned left at the light that takes forever to turn green.

-I thought it would be a good idea to make a quick stop at the store for some berries on our way out. It is never a good idea to make a quick stop at the store. There is no such thing as a quick stop at the store.

-When I opened the car door, there was a slight musty odor and Weston decided that a woodchuck must be living in the car. Finding the idea humorous at first, I played along with it, which resulted in terrifying him--since when is he scared of woodchucks??--and he refused to be in the car until I checked it thoroughly for any furry occupants. (There was no woodchuck. There was, however, a container of hummus from the day before. Blech.)

Weekday Entertainment

Doing school at home takes far fewer hours than I anticipated, so we've been left to find alternate entertainment more than I thought we would. Here are some of the ways we've been filling the time.

Of Late

W: I wish I could see a real dinosaur!
L: You can. You have.
W: No, I haven't.
L: Yes, you have.
W: Nuh-uh!
L: Uh-huh!
W: Nuh-uh! Mama! Luke said that I have seen a real dinosaur, but I haven't seen a real dinosaur!
L: Yes, he has! Birds are dinosaurs.
Me: Ummm.....
L: They are! They really are! They evolved from dinosaurs, so they ARE dinosaurs.
Me: Ok. You evolved from a monkey. Are you a monkey?
L: No. I evolved from an ape-like creature. And yes, I am an ape-like creature because all primates are ape-like creatures and I'm a primate.

Logic to support illogic. It's his forte, really.



 W: Good night, Mama. Tomorrow morning, I am going to eat Black Cat.
Me: Why, exactly?
W: Because she always bites me.
Me: I'm actually not sure Black Cat has ever bitten you. Mostly, she runs away from you. Yellow Cat, on the other hand, bites you almost every day.
W: Yes. But I like Yellow Cat. He's my best cat. I will eat Black Cat.
Me: How about we don't need to eat any of our pets?
W: I do need to eat one of our pets. The one that I will need to eat is Black Cat. Tomorrow.

Half the time, he refuses to eat meat because he says, "Animals are good guys and I like them," but he's perfectly willing to consider the possibility of eating our cat. Wonderful.



L: I need a plunger.
Me: Because...
L: It's a secret.
Me: So then, no.
L, sighing: Fine. I'm going to suction the shower door.
Me: You're...what?
L: To see how a remora holds onto a shark. My book said to use a plunger.
Me: I'm going to need to see this book because I have no idea what you just said to me.

The book did, in fact, recommend using a plunger to demonstrate how a remora uses suction to hold onto a shark. And look, now the word "remora" is in my vocabulary. How rich my life has become. (That was sarcasm. In case you wondered.)



W: Can I go outside and yell?
Me: Better than yelling inside, I guess.
W: Can I go outside and use my tractor end lego thing that squeaks?
Me: I don't know what you're talking about, but if it's too loud for inside, then yes, you may use it outside.
W: Can I go outside and throw my baseball?
Me: Yes.
W: Can I go outside and plant in my garden?
Me: Your garden isn't quite ready yet, but you may dig in the sandbox.
W: Can I go outside and make a beehive?
Me: Um...sure?
W: Can I go outside?
Me: Weston. I have said yes like thirty times. Go. Outside.
W: I don't want to go outside. I want you to read me a book.

I'm pretty sure this kid is trying to test my grip on sanity.

Finding Time

Oh, this poor neglected blog...

A constant refrain in my life recently has been, "I don't have time..."

I don't have time to catch up on emails. I don't have time to blog. I don't have time to return texts promptly. I don't have time to put together a newsletter that I promised would be out by the end of the week--and that still needs to go through a couple of bureaucratic channels before it can even be assembled. I don't have time to make phone calls, or to rearrange things on my phone so that I can free up space to add a rather necessary app, or any one of a dozen other things that have slipped so far down my to-do list that they've slipped out of my mind entirely.

As it happens, it annoys me endlessly when people claim not to have time for things. My response to complaints of, "I don't have time..." has always been to point out that we make time for the things that are important to us. And so, now that I am the one bemoaning a lack of time, I remind myself that I do find time for the things that I consider priorities.

I find time to take the children to the park, the museum, friends' houses. I find time to make it to our homeschooling co-op. I find time to talk to McMoose. I find time to spend with friends. I find time to make a weaving loom for the kids (out of cardboard, lest you begin to fancy me a carpenter) because our lives need more art. I find time to go to the library multiple times a week because oh, my goodness, these children go through books like reading is going out of style! I find time to spend 90 minutes doing math work with a child who begs for "one more problem, please, just one last one!" I find time.

As for the rest, I'll find time for that, too. Soon.