Off The Grid

I’m pretty sure my children are sick of me. 

They see me more than most kids do, unless their mom is one of those stay-at-home moms which I could never be because I would go totally insane.  (Or spend lots and lots of money.  Me at home + bored = me spending money.  Ah yes, my husband adores my summer vacations.)

You see, my most excellent and awesome job brings in the moo-la and still only requires me to work from 8:15-2:15 Monday through Friday.  Plus I get summer off and two and a half weeks at Christmas and Easter and long weekends.  Let’s just put it this way:  Did I go into education for the vacations?  No.  Do they make my job any harder?  Also no.

So anyways. 

Despite spending some seriously large amounts of time with my children, I still have that irritating mom-guilt-voice in my head that whispers things like: 

But you don’t play with them all the time.  Remember that time they were quietly playing with play dough and you sat there and read a book?  Bad momma!  Remember when it was really pretty out and there aren’t many nice days left and you let them stay in and watch a movie instead of playing outside because you were “tired?”  Bad momma!  Or when they played in their room without killing each other for a solid fifteen minutes and you did the dishes?  Bad momma!

My mom-guilt-voice is kind of a bitch.

So I decided the other day that I would go off the grid and not look at my email or Facebook or read a book or play on my Iphone from the time I got home from work until the girls went to bed.  We’d just play.  And, actually, it was pretty awesome. 

Do I think I could do that everyday?  Probably not.  I like technology too much.  And there were definitely points where the girls just kind of ignored me and played on their own.  (And gave me odd looks for just sitting in their room.)

But I’d be willing to try to do it a few times a week, at least.  Also?  It totally shut my mom-guilt-voice up for a while.  Which is pretty darn rare for my perfectionist self.

Newsflash—> You cannot be perfect at being a mom.  I’m still working that out.

Look at my rambling-ness.  Geez.  I will reward you for listening to my craziness by giving you tons of pictures.  Kid pictures!  Off-the-grid day pictures!  Cute pictures!  Ad nauseum!

What's that you say? Children are not for menial labor? Oh.

 

Baby ghetto booty!! Corinne stuffed leaves down her pants.

 

Sister revenge!!

 

Possibly my new favorite picture

I think God reserves a special blue just for autumn skies.

 

 

 

 

We headed inside and played Build A Bear boutique.

 

And did something involving a paper tube and about 50 ponytail holders. And a pink head band.

 

 

 

I love that she can do this now. It amazes me everytime.

 

To finish off the night, we all worked on Corinne's family turkey project for school. Ta-dah!

 

 

My Dog is a Reincarnated Serial Killer

 

I’ve mentioned my dog before, have I not?  The mutt we adopted from the humane society after our previous dog’s sudden passing.

I believe I have also mentioned that he is psychotic?

Well, you know, I don’t just make that claim frivolously.

I have proof.

My dog is a reincarnated serial killer.

His ears are propped open to hear the faint screams of stuffed animals left unattended

Ever watch CSI or Criminal Minds or Dexter or whatever?  Man, those serial killer creepers are always keeping “mementos” from the people they killed.

Every single time Jax decides to chew one of my daughter’s toys (which is often), he removes something from its face and hides it. 

Former build a bear puppy. Now a crime against nature...its eyeball on the other side is missing, too. Ugh. Doesn't it look RABID?!

Somewhere in my house, there is a stockpile of plastic noses and eyeballs.

Also?  A ladybug antenna from Ashlynn’s pillow pet.

Corinne's unicorn pillow pet fared less well

You will know the day I find it, because it will be on the news:

Suburban Mother of Two Has Heart Attack,

Whoops Dog’s Ass Simultaneously