Work Work Work....sorta

There was a microscopic film of ice on the road this morning that disappeared by 9am. But Carly's school got cancelled anyway.

So I didn't go into Navy Relief (no sweat, it's volunteer) and have been working from home all day.

Working from home with my two children has entailed:

1) About 5,000 "Mom watch THIS!" generally when I'm in the middle of a thought or trying to format some crazy Excel thing.

2) Discovering Pandora radio (LOVE) and setting some channels.

3) Cooking a package of bacon and then fighting the fire alarm for twenty minutes.

4) Doing five loads of laundry and one of dishes.

5) Supervising window washing and failing miserably at supervision. Then cleaning up a (full! GR!) bottle of my favorite minty Method window cleaner that had mysteriously spilled on the floor by way of the top of Bree's head.

6) Checking Facebook everytime my concentration was broken. Essentially every two minutes.

7) Chasing Bree out of my room 60 times.

8) Administering time-outs at least...a lot of times.

9) Setting up our new wireless printer. Answering five bazillion questions about it. "What is that cord for?" "Is it purple or lavender?" "What does that paper say, why is it black, why are you putting it there, what is that little box for, why is it wrapped three times...."

10) Doing a combined total of maybe three hours of total work, and that was greatly helped by forced 'naptime' during which time neither kid actually slept. But at least no one was fighting. =)


I had planned to sign Carly up for t-ball today, but I decided we're going to take a pass on that this spring. For one thing, we are going to be gone a lot. Also, she wants to play tennis and I can't have a five year old in FOUR extracurricular activities; that's crazy. But mostly, it's because wrangling Bree at practice is an absolute beating, and since Paul will be gone all of April, I'd be doing it by myself. The idea of two practices and a game each week of not being able to watch Carly for chasing Bree and keeping her out of other people's food and water, out of the street, off the fences, out of the way of the baseball...shudder...it makes me want to curl into the fetal position and cry.

So we're skipping it. She can play t-ball next year. Tennis is at the gym where they have childcare so poor Bree will at least have something to do other than be told over and over again to COME BACK. =)