Remember Me While I'm Gone

Crazy Hours.

That's what a school administrator works in the week leading up to the first day of school, as I'm quickly learning. And my recently educated guess is that this will continue through Septeember.

Apologies in advance for what will surely be sporadic blogging.

What Do You Get

What do you get when you combine a 6 year old girl

with

5 bucks burning a hole in her pocket

and

Chinatown?

You get this irresistible example of renaissance art gone wrong, that's what you get.















It is fantastically, compellingly ugly.

Well.

I was hesitant with good reason.

Chicken

I need to go in the kids' bedroom and see if their fish died today.

I really don't want to.

You see, last week I jumped the gun a bit and told Jonathan that his fish (named Tucan or Kipper, depending on day and mood) had died when it really hadn't. It was just asleep. At the top of the water. At an angle. (You can see how I made the mistake, right? Especially after I knocked on the tank and the fish didn't move a fin). So 5 minutes of unnecessary tears later, Chloe discovered that TucanKipper was not dead, but was in fact moving.

That was the beginning of the end, though. The fish is not well.
TucanKipper is now named Green Around the Gills in my book.

(Sigh.)
I've got to go look.

Home

Practice Makes (Not Quite) Perfect

Steve and I have been married for 9 years.

In that time, we have moved 6 times.

Could be that we're getting good at it.

We went from this (see, I wasn't exaggerating about how there was nowhere to walk in our old apt.):














To this, in less than 36 hours:


































(Look, Mom, full-sized oven and refrigerator)















*Notice that the kids have not adjusted to the extra space we have in our new digs and feel they must sit on top of the TV, as they were forced to do in our previous apartment.

I'll take some outdoor/'hood pics and post them this weekend.

Yoo Hoo, Snarky!

I'm sorry-- was someone calling my name?

'Tis sad but true. I am the Queen of Snark these past few days.

Plenty of things to blame it on...

• My office at work-- We moved on the first of August and still have no server or internet access. I'm unable to position my cabinets, etc. up against the wall because of the electrical work (that was promised to be completed by the 5th of Aug). Picture me, my desk, empty file cabinets and stacks of boxes squeezed together in a 8x8 cluster in the middle of the room. The teachers come back to work on Monday, and I am to organize orientation on the day-to-day schedule and operations of the school. Here's what I have so far. Do you think the teachers will feel welcomed and prepared for a great school year?

DAY TO DAY OPERATIONS

1. Arrive at the school.
2. Chase a mouse which has been displaced by the move.
3. Give up and go to your desk. Trip over a box and/or cord for good measure.
4. Turn on your computer in the futile hope that the connections have been re-established.
5. Search for necessary documents or supplies amidst the boxes.
6. Go back to number 2 and repeat.

• Or perhaps it's the apartment. The move is tomorrow, which means we've been packing every spare second. Our living area is now a maze of boxes with 12 inch walkways between the rooms. While the kids think it's fun in a InstaFort kind of way, telling Jonathan not to climb on the boxes every few moments increases my snark level significantly ("Jonathan, honey, don't climb on the boxes. You could get hurt or break something," has become "Jonathan! You climb on those boxes and they will fall over on top of you and SQUISH YOU FLAT! I'M NOT KIDDING! STOP. IT. NOW."). The kids are also bored silly, as we've packed away many of their toys and other forms of entertainment (And we all know: Bored=Whiny=Increased annoyance on the mother's part).

Thus, my scandalously high snark levels.

I apologize to the kids and Steve often, and I rest in the assurance that sanctification is a process that will continue until the day I die.
I also breathe easier, knowing that when I whisper, "Father, forgive me,"
God, in His mercy, will do just that.

Good-bye, Upper West Side

You welcomed us warmly while we made our home here for a season.
Thank you, UWS. We'll miss you.

Welcome to the World, Baby Boy

Kasjen Jay
Born August 6, 2007
9 healthy pounds and 3 precious ounces
22 inches long

Welcomed by Tim and (my sister) Angela and their other beautiful boys, Chandler and Camren.

We're proud to have you join the clan.

PS: It's pronounced Cash-en

Pictogram on a Saturday Evening

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+









=
????


A: The rat party to beat all rat parties. Catering by: The local garbage pile. Location: Under the car hood of our friends, the Crosby family. (The mechanic found the evidence as he was checking into some "mysterious" battery issues).

Amusing for Me. Awkward for Them.

The 1 train was running late yesterday, and the kids and I waited an unusually long amount of time for it to come. A delay between trains means more people accumulate on the subway platform, and when the train actually does come, it takes longer for all these extra straphangers to pile in. The cars are crowded, various body parts and bags get caught in the doors so they can't close, it takes an extra 60 seconds for everyone to tuck in, and voila! The train gets even farther behind with every station. It's a harsh cycle, and the train will eventually correct the problem by skipping a station.

So yesterday, a woman with a rather large suitcase got in the car with us. At the next station, it seemed we were at full capacity. The train operator was futilely saying over the loudspeaker, "There's a train directly behind us! Please stand clear of the closing doors!" Understandably, the people who had been waiting quite long already weren't anxious to wait for the next train, and they tried to squeeze themselves in. One woman scanned the crowd, saw what looked like an empty space and went for it. Only, it wasn't an empty space. It was the suitcase. There was a bit of a shuffle, some elbows and bags shifted, and (the horrors!) someone's toes got stepped on.

Squished Toes was hopping mad and started yelling at the Last One In. Last One In tried to defend herself, saying that she hadn't seen the suitcase. Squished Toes wasn't about to back down and kept going at her, saying she should have waited for the next train.

Their faces were, out of necessity, 2 inches away from each other. Both of them craned their necks backwards in an attempt to find acceptable fighting distance, but it wasn't going to happen. Last One In finally said that she was done, this was ridiculous, the end.

I would think that it would be instinct to get as far away as quickly as possible after an interaction such as that. But it wasn't going to happen in this subway car. They continued to stand face to very close face for a few minutes, avoiding all eye contact.
Eventually, Squished Toes managed to turn around. For the rest of the 15 minute ride, I watched the two of them stand pressed together, doing everything possible to pretend that they weren't standing back to back with their new best enemy.