Guest List

I got a call from my cousin a few weeks ago.  He got a job in D.C. and he and his wife were coming.  They didn't know exactly where he would be working so he couldn't do much in the way for house finding until he got here.  I opened up the basement bedroom and told them they were welcome to stay until our Thanksgiving guests came.

After about  a week into his new job my cousin still didn't seem to know where he was going to be posted and even if he did the reality of quickly finding a house and moving in was becoming distant.  So, I told them they could stay as long as they needed.  Meaning = my house would be home to six adults and two kids.

Now, I made a very conscious effort to find a larger house when we moved back to D.C. for training just for this situation.  And we found a four bedroom house.  One bedroom larger than we need so we can throw our guests in our dungeon basement.  However, when you get four guests all at once the spare bedroom fills up quickly.

So I had to put the kids together.  I feel a little guilty whining about this because I know other blogfriends do this and a grip of FS Oakwood folks do this.  But I HATE, let me emphasize HATE, when my children sleep in the same room.  What ends up happening is either one or both wake up and then they wake each other up and them me up.  EVERY NIGHT.  So, if I have guests and my kids are in the same room.  I am a grouch.  I am more than a grouch.  I get angry.   I need sleep.  This is part of the reason I don't want any more kids.  I need to sleep to be a normal person.

Sleep = happy Sunny.  No sleep = very angry cranky mom.  As the hours and days passed I became more sleep deprived and I knew I couldn't do it any more.  I lacked sleep, more people in my house and more soon to come.  I found myself at my edge.  I was cooking at least one meal sometimes two or even three for seven people.  My grocery bill was doubling or tripling and I was starting to get on edge.

To the credit of my guests they were very clean and helpful.  But still, so was my maid in the Philippines and I still occasionally found myself annoyed.

So this is when having a community comes in handy.  I put a desperate SOS message on my church listserv asking for anyone who might need a house sitter for the holidays.  Someone needed a cat sitter and I am now down two guests.

One easy guest still here and one more to come tonight.

And yes I am cooking Thanksgiving for everyone.

The Next Phase and My Heart Melts

Stella has been pretty close to reading for a long time now.  At 15 months she knew all her letters and by two she knew the sounds.  We thought she would be reading any day but then she moved on to other interests and that was fine and we let it drop (I learned my lesson after getting too excited about her starting to potty train early).  

So here she is now at 3 and it is just starting to click.  She is recognizing word families and somehow, without my assistance, has learned how to write.  The other day I heard her mumbling "mom, mom, mom, mom, mom."  She had sounded out and written my name.  I was shocked.

This morning I woke up and found this card:

It seriously melts my heart.  

So now what?  I don't want to push her about the reading thing but she is there.  She is sounding words out.  

I have found that the books available are disappointing.   They are either too easy, basic ABCs which she has or too hard.  There needs to be a word family type medium book and our library and book stores don't have much.  Suggestions?

A Twinge of Jealousy

When Seth was in Dutch I thought it was cute.  This cute little language that reminded me of The Smurfs.  It was quaint and, I apologize to The Netherlands, Beligium, and Suriname in advance when I say, it felt a little bit like a parlor trick.  Kind of like Tagalog.  That was great in the Philippines but really, I didn't NEED to learn that for survival.  I could be wrong but it seems to me that the Dutch are some of the most multi-lingual people in the world.   Why would I need to learn their language when they speak six, or at least that is what I have been telling myself the past two months.

And now Seth is taking French and I find myself super jealous and annoyed and desperate.  I even got a nasty email from FSI asking me why I wasn't in class on Monday (we had canceled but somehow in this large bureaucratic machine someone didn't get the notice, hence curt email to me).  I want SO SO much to be in French.  Not so I can sound sophisticated and urbane (which you do when you speak French), but for survival.  I have a haunting feeling that I am going to NEED to speak French.

We tried to make it work with the alternating schedules etc but it just doesn't.  I have a one year old and a three year old and there are naps and hand offs that are just impossible to pull off.  So, I don't get to take the FSI French course and I am so sad.

Yes, I am taking Rosetta Stone.  You would think as an insructional desinger who makes online courses that this would appeal to me, but I know my learning style and self enough to realize that for language I need to be in a classroom speaking to someone.

There is still hope I can take the seven week fast course, survival French as they call it, but still.

I wouldn't give up my job as a SAHM for anything, but I admit there are many days when Seth goes out the door to learn a learn language and I stuck with sick whiney kids, I sorta wish we could switch.

The Cautionary Tale of a Misunderstood Halloween Costume

I know its two days late and in blogger-land that is like two years. But here it is: The Fabling Halloween Horror Special.

Halloween is a week long event in our family whether we like it or not.  Starting last week we had Halloween Ballet Class.

Followed by Halloween Preschool Party on Friday.  

And then of course my children got deathly ill on Saturday.  But still we decorated a trunk for our church  Trunk or Treat and handed out candy for thirty minutes.  

 After a semi-good night's rest and a round of antibiotics we took the kids down the block for some neighborhood trick or treating on Sunday.

Of course Tiger went as a tiger.

Stella went as Tinkerbell, sans wings.  (We attempted but they were off in about two minutes).  

And Seth went as his own mustache.

I went as a Gingerbread man.  No one knew who I was or said anything.  It is much worse for people to say nothing than something at all.  I think they just thought I was a weird looking sumo wrestler or Kirstie Allie on a bender.  Either way, not my best moment for making a new neighbor impression.