Whose Life is This?

Now, apparently, it's good to be in the sun, sans sunscreen, at least for a few minutes a week. A new story came out saying that vitamin D helps prevent all kinds of cancers and of course the best way to get it is from the sun. What a great excuse to work on my tan. Ha! My English genetics disagree. It's been pounded into my head from the time I could walk that if I don't use sunscreen every day, my ear, nose or some other body part will fall off due to melanoma. Now I'm being encouraged to bask in sunny weather. Who do I trust? Mom or Yahoo! news?

I did try to get out the other day. The temperatures were a strange 80 degrees. It's usually not this warm until July. I wanted to bring the kids' pool out but there wasn't enough time with the other things I had to do for the day so they played on the swingset (covered in spf 45) while I pushed them and tried to get even sunning for the 30 minutes we were out there. THAT was a good day. It was warm and sunny. The kids were in a good mood. My best friend had just called (a rare occurance since she's never home) and told me they'd be moving down here for two months which probably doesn't make much sense to someone who doesn't know her story...more on Shea, later. I'd just seen my step-sister whom I hadn't seen since 2002 and met her baby, saw my dad and the kids were behaving. Things were going great. That was Saturday.

Then came Sunday. Kids wake up crying. Go downstairs to set them up with breakfast. Try to get ready for church. Kids want to be upstairs with me. Bring them upstairs. Set them in front of the toys that I have to keep in my bathroom since I can't do anything alone and at least the toys keep them from getting into things like, my makeup, the plants on the ledge of my tub and the electrical outlet that's strategically placed just at the right spot for a certain 11 month old someone to reach. Almost finished with my shower when Leah decides she wants to be with me and cries pathetically at the door of the shower which isn't frosted glass, but perfectly clear glass so she can see me and try to convince me to hurry up with her puppy dog eyes and little downturned mouth. Can't get dressed for the baby wants to be held. Try to put my clothes on while holding the baby and Trey describing the differences between boys and girls and who, in his circle of friends, is a boy and who is a girl and what they *ahem* posess. Put the baby down to try to do my makeup. She's clinging to my legs and crying. Put Boobah on the tv in my room for the kids to watch. That lasts for two minutes before we're back to Trey wanting to play with my makeup brushes, necklaces, wondering where daddy's razor is and why his toothbrush is in the drawer instead of the toothbrush holder and Leah crying because she's not physically attached to me. Turn the tv off and take both kids downstairs to watch crazy, psychadelic Boobah so I can finish getting ready in peace. Put Leah in torture chamber aka Pack & Play where she cries for the duration of time it takes me to finish my makeup and hair. As soon as I come down the stairs she's not crying anymore. Ugh! Put shoes on the kids, grab the baby bag and head to the car so we can go to church and someone else can listen to them whine for an hour while I sit with adults where no one is grabbing, poking or drooling on me.

Our pastor did an awesome tribute to our military at the end of the service since most of the military takes off on Memorial Day weekend. He wanted to catch all of us before we headed out to play. There were about 50 of us who came to the front of the church (spouses included) where he said he was grateful for a good majority of our military coming home safely but that a select few had returned to Iraq and then he mentioned me and Bill by name. Normally, this wouldn't seem like a big deal, but we have a congregation of over 1000 split up into three services and we were the only ones our pastor mentioned specifically. It was quite an honor. After that, lots of people came up to give me a hug and look at me in wonderment saying, "I don't know how you do it!" Me either. I blog.

We got home later than normal because of this little honor which meant lunch was later and naps were later. My little Leah, who normally takes a two hour nap in the afternoon, slept for 30 minutes. That's it! When she woke up, Trey thought he could get up. No. Go back to bed. Then I hear him playing with his piggy bank. Every little coin he owns is scattered over his bed. I'm about to lose my marbles. Pick up the money, go to bed, NOW.

The rest of the day was filled with cranky-baby-syndrome and not-listening-to-a-word-you're-saying-preschoolerism which leads to crabby-mommy-syndrome. My poor husband spent our time IM'ing "listening" to me rant about my day. I know he'd rather be here being driven mad by our children than out there in Iraq doing whatever it is that he's doing.

Please, Lord, let Monday be better. In the words of Dory the fish: "Just keep swimmin' just keep swimmin'".