Eh.Mey.Gawd.

Today was the first meeting of the woman's group where I watched the young toddlers while their mothers got closer to Hey-Seuse. Cheese and Rice. It was bad.

I arrived right on time and promptly joined the line of temp workers getting their room assignments for the day. The boys and I found our room and they got to explore for a few minutes before the other children arrived. I ended up keeping one of my sister's girls in the room, even though technically she should have been in one of the older-toddler rooms. Four other kids were dropped off not including my niece and M&M...everything seemed to be going ok. Then Sumo-Baby arrived. To imagine this child is to imagine what a successful Sumo wrestler must have looked like as a baby. He was around the boys age, about a year and a half, but probably outweighed the average Kindergartner. If his massive trunk, meaty arms and legs were any indication of how heavy he was, then they were a gross understatement. Sumo-Baby must have been made of lead. Having to tote around Sumo-Baby occasionally during the day would have been a vast improvement over having to constantly rock/sing to/and bounce him during the entire 4 hours, which is what actually happened. Sumo-Baby could not and would not be comforted. He snotted all over my shirt. The beads of sweat from crying exertion would reappear the moment he decided being a content baby was for the birds. Sumo-Baby capitalized my time and my co-sitter's time the whole 4 hours. We passed him back and forth between the two of us when our arms would get tired. My co-sitter attempted to minimize how Sumo-Baby was when his mom picked him up. Not me. I was honest. Sumo-Baby cried. And Cried. And Snotted. And then Cried some more.

Popsicle lovin' twinks

For the past few weeks now, I've been spending my evenings placing orders for a televised shop at home network. Other than it being monotonous and boring at times, I like the fact that I get to do it when I want and at home. I put the boys down for bed a little before 6 and start work shortly after.
School starts monday after next, so we'll see how well I can juggle everything...I might have to give the call taking up. I'm taking another 5 classes this semester...2 of which are on-line and only meet 10 or so times.
I also agreed to work in a daycare a few days a month for a woman's group...of course the boys will go with me.
I really hope I'm not spreading myself too thin.

Change your own GD tire!

Since mom is in town, I feel better taking the boys places with an extra set of hands to help. We went to the barn to feed Sony which was uneventful. The four new kittens at the barn were a real hit to the boys who couldn't get enough of holding/hugging them. On the way home from the barn the 'low tire pressure' light came on. I looked out my window and sure enough, the rear tire on the drivers side was down to the rim. Even though we were less than a few miles from home, I was scared to drive it and bend the rim....at this point it was making a terrible scratching sound and I limped along with the hazards on. I pulled into an empty parking lot and after a few unsuccessful attempts to contact John (he was dead to the world..worked until 5am that morning!) I decided who better to change the tire than yours truly. For a second I imagined calling the PD and requesting assistance, after all, I am the baby's momma of one of their finest. Then just as quick as that thought entered my mind did I realize that I was an officer once, just because I'm strapped down with 2 kids now, I'm not helpless! So the process began of tire transplant 101.

I first placed the emergency brake on, then removed the jack and tools, figured out how to lower the tire via the cable system (this part had me thinking for a few minutes). Next I jacked the car up, took the lugnuts off, and lifted the deflated tire off. At this point a few men had stopped by asking if they could help......with the tire already off I told them I was doing fine. What's the point? I was already sweaty, my khaki capri shorts were already stained with grease and dirt, and my nails were caked with the stuff. Surprisingly, once the tire was off, it looked a whole lot more inflated than it did bearing the weight of my car! The new tire was placed on, the lugnuts screwed on, the jack lowered, and we were back on our way home. One of the men that stopped (a postman) couldn't just sit and watch me work...he lifted the flat tire and put it in the trunk, the only assistance I accepted.

So that was my morning. I still got it people!