Facebook status yesterday at 4:48 pm: Lynn - is starting to question our financial planning. Three kids. Two mortgages. Two car payments and as of this afternoon when Mark's company gave him the boot because of "downsizing"... no income.
Twitter post today at 1:10 pm: Dear President Obama, You know how you're fixing the economy... Can you hurry up? My hubs got downsized. Thanks, Lynn.
Blog Post right now: This sucks.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
My Life in Movies...
So, as I have mentioned before, some people think I need my own reality show. And, actually, I just saw an ad for a show about the geriatric version of Jersey Shore, so maybe watching my family could be considered "good tv" these days. But, I think movies might be more appropriate. In fact, I think we have the makings of three good ones just from this morning.
1. Ice Cold. The Horror Flick.... starring Will as the helpless victim and Jack as the serial killer. Begin scene: Will is a star hockey player and Jack is his jealous fan. Will is playing with the puck as he skates down the ice when Jack decides to play along. Jack steals the puck and Will decides to show who the better player is and he steals it back and deflects all of Jack's future attempts. He easily scores and Jack is triggered into a serial killer-esque rage. Will realizes that Jack is out for blood and runs for it. But, (in true horror film fashion he will be played by a big boobed blond in a tight wet t-shirt), he falls rounding the corner. He drags himself forward as Jack gets closer. Will issues a blood curdling scream as Jack's hands close around his arm. End scene.
This movie is inspired by the fight over the hockey puck that occurred in our foyer/kitchen. Fall rounding the corner and blood curdling scream both historically accurate.
2. Bare Naked. The Comedy... starring Will. Begin scene: Will is walking down the grocery store aisle pushing his cart. The bottom of his pant leg gets wrapped up in the wheel. Will pulls his leg while simultaneously walking forward. His pants are ripped off exposing that he was going commando. End scene.
Movie based on Will's walk in the playroom with the block cart today. Obviously, body double will be hired for the nude scene.
3. Destruction. The Disaster flick... starring me as helpless victim and "natural disaster of scientifically impossible make up" played by Will and Jack. Begin scene: I walk into the bathroom and find a tornado has ripped it apart. I walk into playroom and find all toys spread across the room. I walk into the office and find all my business and bill materials emptied and ripped apart. Victim screams, "Why, God, why?" as the entire house is ripped apart around the victim. End scene.
Movie loosely based on the unravelled toilet paper roll, dumped truck and matchbox car bins, and emptied desk drawers. Liberty was taken with cause of mess and dialog.
1. Ice Cold. The Horror Flick.... starring Will as the helpless victim and Jack as the serial killer. Begin scene: Will is a star hockey player and Jack is his jealous fan. Will is playing with the puck as he skates down the ice when Jack decides to play along. Jack steals the puck and Will decides to show who the better player is and he steals it back and deflects all of Jack's future attempts. He easily scores and Jack is triggered into a serial killer-esque rage. Will realizes that Jack is out for blood and runs for it. But, (in true horror film fashion he will be played by a big boobed blond in a tight wet t-shirt), he falls rounding the corner. He drags himself forward as Jack gets closer. Will issues a blood curdling scream as Jack's hands close around his arm. End scene.
This movie is inspired by the fight over the hockey puck that occurred in our foyer/kitchen. Fall rounding the corner and blood curdling scream both historically accurate.
2. Bare Naked. The Comedy... starring Will. Begin scene: Will is walking down the grocery store aisle pushing his cart. The bottom of his pant leg gets wrapped up in the wheel. Will pulls his leg while simultaneously walking forward. His pants are ripped off exposing that he was going commando. End scene.
Movie based on Will's walk in the playroom with the block cart today. Obviously, body double will be hired for the nude scene.
3. Destruction. The Disaster flick... starring me as helpless victim and "natural disaster of scientifically impossible make up" played by Will and Jack. Begin scene: I walk into the bathroom and find a tornado has ripped it apart. I walk into playroom and find all toys spread across the room. I walk into the office and find all my business and bill materials emptied and ripped apart. Victim screams, "Why, God, why?" as the entire house is ripped apart around the victim. End scene.
Movie loosely based on the unravelled toilet paper roll, dumped truck and matchbox car bins, and emptied desk drawers. Liberty was taken with cause of mess and dialog.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
In honor of Luke Pearl...
Luke Pearl died at 4 years old. I don't know how he died, be it accident or illness, and I didn't know him or his family back in 2003 when it happened. In fact, I don't know them now. The first time I heard of Luke was yesterday when I was attending my preschool's fundraiser for the "Luke Pearl Scholarship fund." I didn't know him... but, after the lesson that I learned in his honor yesterday, I really wish I had.
Will's school held a purse auction yesterday to raise money for Luke's scholarship fund. The money goes to families who cannot afford the fantastic education that Will has been so lucky to have. They received tons of donated purses and filled the bags with donated goodies from iPods to restaurant gift cards to Godiva chocolates (my mom got that one!!!). There was a silent auction of tons of bags and then a live auction of four particularly expensive, well stocked designer bags. I won two of the silent auction prizes, bringing home a plethora of outdoor toys for the kids and then another full of indoor treats and board games. Not a bad haul for my money, if I do say so myself. But, the real prize is what I took home from the live auction.
The last bag came up, a lovely green shoulder bag filled with an iPod, gift cards, etc. and the bidding started at $50. It went up and up and up until two people were bidding against each other. It was a miscellaneous woman in the crowd and Luke Pearl's older sibling, a late middle school or early high school aged linebacker of a boy. Finally, the older Pearl won the bag at $160. The crowd clapped and cheered and then quieted as he rose to his feet. He pulled the bag onto his shoulder (at which time I yelled out "the green brings out your eyes") and he sheepishly walked over to the woman he was bidding against. He handed her the bag and said, "I don't really use purses." He went back to his seat as if that act of generosity was no big deal at all. The woman paused for a moment and then said, "I brought $200 to spend today, and I will donate it to the scholarship fund in light of what this young man just did" and she handed over $200 cash.
I don't know what kind of child Luke Pearl was, but in his brother I got an excellent view of the young man he would've become. That young man's selfless gesture... his willingness to spend that kind of money and walk away with nothing... that was a gift to all of us old ladies in the room. I walk away more proud of that moment then of either of my own donation or winnings. And I now know that even though Will doesn't benefit from the Luke Pearl Scholarship fund, he will from kindness and generosity that I will strive to teach him.... thanks to the Pearl family.
Will's school held a purse auction yesterday to raise money for Luke's scholarship fund. The money goes to families who cannot afford the fantastic education that Will has been so lucky to have. They received tons of donated purses and filled the bags with donated goodies from iPods to restaurant gift cards to Godiva chocolates (my mom got that one!!!). There was a silent auction of tons of bags and then a live auction of four particularly expensive, well stocked designer bags. I won two of the silent auction prizes, bringing home a plethora of outdoor toys for the kids and then another full of indoor treats and board games. Not a bad haul for my money, if I do say so myself. But, the real prize is what I took home from the live auction.
The last bag came up, a lovely green shoulder bag filled with an iPod, gift cards, etc. and the bidding started at $50. It went up and up and up until two people were bidding against each other. It was a miscellaneous woman in the crowd and Luke Pearl's older sibling, a late middle school or early high school aged linebacker of a boy. Finally, the older Pearl won the bag at $160. The crowd clapped and cheered and then quieted as he rose to his feet. He pulled the bag onto his shoulder (at which time I yelled out "the green brings out your eyes") and he sheepishly walked over to the woman he was bidding against. He handed her the bag and said, "I don't really use purses." He went back to his seat as if that act of generosity was no big deal at all. The woman paused for a moment and then said, "I brought $200 to spend today, and I will donate it to the scholarship fund in light of what this young man just did" and she handed over $200 cash.
I don't know what kind of child Luke Pearl was, but in his brother I got an excellent view of the young man he would've become. That young man's selfless gesture... his willingness to spend that kind of money and walk away with nothing... that was a gift to all of us old ladies in the room. I walk away more proud of that moment then of either of my own donation or winnings. And I now know that even though Will doesn't benefit from the Luke Pearl Scholarship fund, he will from kindness and generosity that I will strive to teach him.... thanks to the Pearl family.
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Pursuit of Happiness...
A friend of mine called me on Sunday and asked what should have been a simple question. She said, "are you happy?" My first thought was, "is this a trick question?" It should have been super easy to answer. In theory, it's either yes or no. But, in practice it took a lot of thought before I could come to a conclusion. In fact, I think I've only reached it now, as I type this entry.
Initially, my thought was yes. At that exact moment, I was happy. Then it occurred to me that I was really more content than happy. At the moment she called, my boys were sleeping. Tabbi was napping on the couch. Mark was mowing the lawn. I was upstairs in my bed reading a book and lazily dozing off. That was pure contentment. But, is that happy? I am not sure.
I think on most days, I would say yes. I would sum up my general state of being as happy. I love Mark, I love my kids, I love my home, I love my family and I generally like my life. There are days when I would say no though, and no part of that equation would be any different. There are days when Mark and I are just not getting along. Usually I want a higher degree of participation from him and he wants a lower degree of nagging from me. Then there are times when I don't love being a SAHM. There are days when I miss working.... I miss feeling like I accomplish something. Instead, I spend the day chasing my tail trying to get Will and Jack to do simple things I need them to do... like pee in the toilet not the floor or color on paper, not my couch. I feel impotent, not important, and there are days that makes me sad. So on those days, I am not happy.
I think if anyone says they are happy all of the time they are lying... or stoned. One or the other. I think that the goal should be to have more good days than bad, and when you don't, it is time for a drastic change. I think that no person is happy in every aspect of their lives at one time, either. As I laid in bed reading my book and listening to the sounds of silence, I still had moments of nagging money thoughts. See, Mark, I nag myself too. We're super tight this week so I was pondering transfers from accounts and whether or not I could get one of my measly paychecks this week. While we are extremely fortunate to be able to have me stay home with the kids, I dream of a time when I will have a substantial paycheck too and we will not nickel and dime our way to the next check. But, when I balance the scales, we still land in the positive. We have a home, two cars, food and even Netflix. If this is "making it work" then I have no place to complain. But, I could be happier.
The day before I moved to Kansas from Iowa, the only home I'd ever known, I got a fortune cookie that said "you're only as happy as you let yourself be." That is probably the best statement on happiness that I have ever heard. I've never forgotten that advice and when I ponder the question asked of me yesterday, I think yes would have to be the answer. Because even though we could use more money and raising the kids can be like raising a herd of worms, ultimately, I choose to be happy. And I am.
Initially, my thought was yes. At that exact moment, I was happy. Then it occurred to me that I was really more content than happy. At the moment she called, my boys were sleeping. Tabbi was napping on the couch. Mark was mowing the lawn. I was upstairs in my bed reading a book and lazily dozing off. That was pure contentment. But, is that happy? I am not sure.
I think on most days, I would say yes. I would sum up my general state of being as happy. I love Mark, I love my kids, I love my home, I love my family and I generally like my life. There are days when I would say no though, and no part of that equation would be any different. There are days when Mark and I are just not getting along. Usually I want a higher degree of participation from him and he wants a lower degree of nagging from me. Then there are times when I don't love being a SAHM. There are days when I miss working.... I miss feeling like I accomplish something. Instead, I spend the day chasing my tail trying to get Will and Jack to do simple things I need them to do... like pee in the toilet not the floor or color on paper, not my couch. I feel impotent, not important, and there are days that makes me sad. So on those days, I am not happy.
I think if anyone says they are happy all of the time they are lying... or stoned. One or the other. I think that the goal should be to have more good days than bad, and when you don't, it is time for a drastic change. I think that no person is happy in every aspect of their lives at one time, either. As I laid in bed reading my book and listening to the sounds of silence, I still had moments of nagging money thoughts. See, Mark, I nag myself too. We're super tight this week so I was pondering transfers from accounts and whether or not I could get one of my measly paychecks this week. While we are extremely fortunate to be able to have me stay home with the kids, I dream of a time when I will have a substantial paycheck too and we will not nickel and dime our way to the next check. But, when I balance the scales, we still land in the positive. We have a home, two cars, food and even Netflix. If this is "making it work" then I have no place to complain. But, I could be happier.
The day before I moved to Kansas from Iowa, the only home I'd ever known, I got a fortune cookie that said "you're only as happy as you let yourself be." That is probably the best statement on happiness that I have ever heard. I've never forgotten that advice and when I ponder the question asked of me yesterday, I think yes would have to be the answer. Because even though we could use more money and raising the kids can be like raising a herd of worms, ultimately, I choose to be happy. And I am.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Lynnland: An Introduction
So I received a Facebook message from someone saying that they "love how my mind works." Yeah... I was scared too. Once you clear the cobwebs out, and the gears start turning, I am not sure how my own mind works, let alone why someone would love it. After all, my three closest friends just determined that I need strong medication, not a strong endorsement of the inner workings of Lynnland. So, it made me wonder. Maybe I am not being clear on my blog posts as to how the world of Lynn is operating under the hood. So, today... I am going to unleash the unedited thoughts of me. God help us all.
Firstly, I sat at the computer and immediately was reminded of the pimple/in-grown hair right along the pantie line of my grunders. I sit down and it's like there is a thumbtack on the seat. I've checked several times and there isn't. Just a weird sore/blemish growing out of my lower butt cheek. Yeah... gross.
Speaking of gross... today I emptied one of Jack's sippy cups and the milk that used to be there had morphed into a sippy-shaped cube of goo. I would call it cheese, but the smell more closely resembled that of a biological weapon.
Speaking of smells... have you ever wondered why people offer up something for you to smell after they declare that it smells bad? I have always wondered why people do that. Do they need confirmation that it does indeed smell bad? Like maybe their nose broke, so they think it smells of poo but you might think it smells of roses? And more so, I've wondered about the people that then take a big whiff. I gotta tell you, if you think it smells bad, I am totally willing to take your word for that. I don't need to verify it for myself.
Speaking of "your." Have you ever noticed how many people confuse your with you're? It drives me nuts.
And, do you know how many times I say something "drives me nuts" in one day? I haven't actually counted, because math is not my forte, but seriously, I think I say it every other sentence. I really do. Mark drives me nuts, my kid drives me nuts, Whoopi Goldberg's constant need to defend every person that the other View co-hosts thinks did something wrong drives me nuts... Pretty much every single thing drives me nuts.
And, I don't even really like nuts. Which is odd. I like nuts in things... like salads, pastas, bagels, sundaes... but I don't really eat them alone. I wouldn't sit down and just eat nuts. Oh, except those honey roasted almonds that they sell at sporting events and fairs. I am the same way about cheese. I like cheese on burgers, but not subs, and in things... but I don't like to eat cheese alone. My kids eat cheese sticks, but I don't. Yuck.
Speaking of fairs and the word yuck... I hate fairs. I don't like to be in a huge crowd of hot and sweaty people. I don't want to ride amusement park style rides that are assembled and disassembled on a daily basis and usually have a tire at the center of their operating mechanisms. What is that tire for and is the entire ride really balanced upon that tire? And we really trust these apparatuses built by traveling carnie folk? Like they are highly paid engineers in the off season? Would you walk up to one of those permanently stoned, tank top wearing, no teeth having individuals and ask them to perform open heart surgery? No? Well you might as well if you're (notice proper use of you're) willing to balance in a rusty metal bucket three stories up that is duct taped to a giant hamster wheel sitting atop a rubber car tire that they put together two hours earlier after a rousing game of beer pong. Interesting choice.
And, speaking of choices... I have no idea why anyone would choose to read this ranting. I am done now. And thus endeth the reason why no one should ever tell me that they "like the way my mind works."
Firstly, I sat at the computer and immediately was reminded of the pimple/in-grown hair right along the pantie line of my grunders. I sit down and it's like there is a thumbtack on the seat. I've checked several times and there isn't. Just a weird sore/blemish growing out of my lower butt cheek. Yeah... gross.
Speaking of gross... today I emptied one of Jack's sippy cups and the milk that used to be there had morphed into a sippy-shaped cube of goo. I would call it cheese, but the smell more closely resembled that of a biological weapon.
Speaking of smells... have you ever wondered why people offer up something for you to smell after they declare that it smells bad? I have always wondered why people do that. Do they need confirmation that it does indeed smell bad? Like maybe their nose broke, so they think it smells of poo but you might think it smells of roses? And more so, I've wondered about the people that then take a big whiff. I gotta tell you, if you think it smells bad, I am totally willing to take your word for that. I don't need to verify it for myself.
Speaking of "your." Have you ever noticed how many people confuse your with you're? It drives me nuts.
And, do you know how many times I say something "drives me nuts" in one day? I haven't actually counted, because math is not my forte, but seriously, I think I say it every other sentence. I really do. Mark drives me nuts, my kid drives me nuts, Whoopi Goldberg's constant need to defend every person that the other View co-hosts thinks did something wrong drives me nuts... Pretty much every single thing drives me nuts.
And, I don't even really like nuts. Which is odd. I like nuts in things... like salads, pastas, bagels, sundaes... but I don't really eat them alone. I wouldn't sit down and just eat nuts. Oh, except those honey roasted almonds that they sell at sporting events and fairs. I am the same way about cheese. I like cheese on burgers, but not subs, and in things... but I don't like to eat cheese alone. My kids eat cheese sticks, but I don't. Yuck.
Speaking of fairs and the word yuck... I hate fairs. I don't like to be in a huge crowd of hot and sweaty people. I don't want to ride amusement park style rides that are assembled and disassembled on a daily basis and usually have a tire at the center of their operating mechanisms. What is that tire for and is the entire ride really balanced upon that tire? And we really trust these apparatuses built by traveling carnie folk? Like they are highly paid engineers in the off season? Would you walk up to one of those permanently stoned, tank top wearing, no teeth having individuals and ask them to perform open heart surgery? No? Well you might as well if you're (notice proper use of you're) willing to balance in a rusty metal bucket three stories up that is duct taped to a giant hamster wheel sitting atop a rubber car tire that they put together two hours earlier after a rousing game of beer pong. Interesting choice.
And, speaking of choices... I have no idea why anyone would choose to read this ranting. I am done now. And thus endeth the reason why no one should ever tell me that they "like the way my mind works."
Monday, April 12, 2010
Why I don't have my own reality show...
Ok, so some Facebook friends have suggested that I need my own reality show. They think that my disaster filled life would make for good tv. I am pretty sure they mean it in the same way that Celebrity Rehab makes for good tv, meaning you watch Heidi Fleiss drooling out her mega lips and realize how much better your life seems now than before you tuned in. The Facebookeratti have determined that I too could make your life seem better. But, it's never going to happen. No, not just because ugly people don't get reality shows, but because my life is so freaking nut-tastic that no one is going to believe it's real. That brings me to today... let me tell you about today.
1. Will was up all night last night (and when I say all night, I don't mean the same thing as my grandmother means when she says all night and yet you walk into her bedroom and she is sound asleep.... I mean REALLY ALL NIGHT). So, I am going on 30 seconds sleep. Or wait... maybe this is all a dream...
2. I come down at 7:30a and open the fridge to get Jack's milk and I see that Tabbi has forgotten her lunch. She has a field trip today and was leaving the school at 9:00a. So, I think fast. I can't shower and get Satan and Satan Jr. out of the house on time to bring her the lunch, so I call my mommy. She agrees to swing by, pick up the lunch and take it to Tabbi's school. Immense amounts of hassle later.... and a chick in the school office tells my mother that Tabbi just bought a lunch in the cafeteria. Yeah... didn't know that was an option.
3. 8:00a... I call the pediatrician over item number one. Will hasn't been the same since adenoid and ear tube surgery. Our ENT's nurse blew me off all last week, so I go to our Pediatrician. Will goes berserk when I dare to leave his side and shower. I wrangle the two minions into the office only to find out that Will's issue is viral. VIRAL... as in "sure, Mom, there's something wrong... we just don't know what or how to fix it." Thanks, Doc.
4. I come home from pointless doctor appointment. There's a wasp in our playroom. I try to sneak up on it to kill it, but it could clearly hear me on the phone requesting that my husband come home from work immediately to kill said wasp and it flew at me on the attack. I hit the floor and army crawled out of the house... and now it has taken position on the ceiling fan. Clearly it knows military strategy so it took the elevated position in the house.
5. After fleeing the playroom that is occupied by Genghis Wasp, I walk to our coat closet to hang up Jack's jacket, and realize the foyer has been occupied by an army of ants. Roughly 600 million at last count. Am considering just abandoning the house.
6. While trying to wage a one woman Rambo style war against the insect community taking over my home, my pants keep falling down. And no, I am not losing weight to make my depantsedness worth it. Must be conspiracy... ants and bees united with moths in my closet who have eaten through the waistband of my boyfriend jeans. And no, despite the clear label, boyfriends don't come with the jeans.
7. In my infinite search of money and free things for little to no effort, I was duped into believing I had won at $1,000 Kohl's gift card. But, being the security genius that I am, I gave my dog's name. Ha! Take that identity thieves! However, I gave my real email and cell phone. So, Bentley is getting spammed all to hell and my cell is ringing off the hook. And, oh yeah... no gift card has appeared.
8. It's only noon.....
So here's the update:
So, I take the boys outside for awhile, telling them at 5:40 we are going to head inside and start the rice for dinner. We swing, we play. 5:40 rolls around and Will dutifully heads indoors. Jack runs. The neighbors watch as Jack runs. The neighbors laugh as I run after Jack (holding onto my pants for dear life). Jack gets in the house.
I yell for Tabbi to tell her something. Jack grabs the rice. Jack runs outside. Lather. Rinse. Repeat last paragraph. Jack and rice get inside.
I start browning the vermicelli and Jack laughs. Jack all out guffaws. I look. Jack broke an egg on the playroom carpet. Jack thinks it's funny. I nearly cry. Jack runs outside. I let him stay outside figuring he has a better chance of staying alive outside with the wasps as opposed to inside with me. Good luck, Jack!
And... it's two and a half hours til bedtime.
1. Will was up all night last night (and when I say all night, I don't mean the same thing as my grandmother means when she says all night and yet you walk into her bedroom and she is sound asleep.... I mean REALLY ALL NIGHT). So, I am going on 30 seconds sleep. Or wait... maybe this is all a dream...
2. I come down at 7:30a and open the fridge to get Jack's milk and I see that Tabbi has forgotten her lunch. She has a field trip today and was leaving the school at 9:00a. So, I think fast. I can't shower and get Satan and Satan Jr. out of the house on time to bring her the lunch, so I call my mommy. She agrees to swing by, pick up the lunch and take it to Tabbi's school. Immense amounts of hassle later.... and a chick in the school office tells my mother that Tabbi just bought a lunch in the cafeteria. Yeah... didn't know that was an option.
3. 8:00a... I call the pediatrician over item number one. Will hasn't been the same since adenoid and ear tube surgery. Our ENT's nurse blew me off all last week, so I go to our Pediatrician. Will goes berserk when I dare to leave his side and shower. I wrangle the two minions into the office only to find out that Will's issue is viral. VIRAL... as in "sure, Mom, there's something wrong... we just don't know what or how to fix it." Thanks, Doc.
4. I come home from pointless doctor appointment. There's a wasp in our playroom. I try to sneak up on it to kill it, but it could clearly hear me on the phone requesting that my husband come home from work immediately to kill said wasp and it flew at me on the attack. I hit the floor and army crawled out of the house... and now it has taken position on the ceiling fan. Clearly it knows military strategy so it took the elevated position in the house.
5. After fleeing the playroom that is occupied by Genghis Wasp, I walk to our coat closet to hang up Jack's jacket, and realize the foyer has been occupied by an army of ants. Roughly 600 million at last count. Am considering just abandoning the house.
6. While trying to wage a one woman Rambo style war against the insect community taking over my home, my pants keep falling down. And no, I am not losing weight to make my depantsedness worth it. Must be conspiracy... ants and bees united with moths in my closet who have eaten through the waistband of my boyfriend jeans. And no, despite the clear label, boyfriends don't come with the jeans.
7. In my infinite search of money and free things for little to no effort, I was duped into believing I had won at $1,000 Kohl's gift card. But, being the security genius that I am, I gave my dog's name. Ha! Take that identity thieves! However, I gave my real email and cell phone. So, Bentley is getting spammed all to hell and my cell is ringing off the hook. And, oh yeah... no gift card has appeared.
8. It's only noon.....
So here's the update:
So, I take the boys outside for awhile, telling them at 5:40 we are going to head inside and start the rice for dinner. We swing, we play. 5:40 rolls around and Will dutifully heads indoors. Jack runs. The neighbors watch as Jack runs. The neighbors laugh as I run after Jack (holding onto my pants for dear life). Jack gets in the house.
I yell for Tabbi to tell her something. Jack grabs the rice. Jack runs outside. Lather. Rinse. Repeat last paragraph. Jack and rice get inside.
I start browning the vermicelli and Jack laughs. Jack all out guffaws. I look. Jack broke an egg on the playroom carpet. Jack thinks it's funny. I nearly cry. Jack runs outside. I let him stay outside figuring he has a better chance of staying alive outside with the wasps as opposed to inside with me. Good luck, Jack!
And... it's two and a half hours til bedtime.
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