Fire-y Fireball.

Oh, this day is fun.  In my head.  I'm freaking out.  A little.  Not much.  I'm okay.  

Hairy morning.  

Every morning is a whole lot like being shot out of a cannon.  Every.  Morning.  And although people think I'm crazy (I've made substantial peace with this) I usually try to get up with the Hubs in the morning.  He leaves the house by 4:30am.  As strange as it may sound, these 3-4 hours before the kiddos get up are AMAZING.  I drink coffee, watch the news, walk around naked, read, clean something, whatever the hell I want!  Refreshing.  Like being a real grownup.  This doesn't happen as often as I would like.  Frankly, I don't know how the Hubs does it, or at least how he doesn't die in a fire-y fireball on the way to work (yes, I think these things in a I-don't-have-enough-to-worry-about sort of way, but briefly... cause I'm sleepy... ya know?) because of falling asleep behind the wheel.  Anyway, my usual alarm clock is a small 3 year old screeching that he has to pee pee.  As if he needs approval... why????  Followed by the two year old getting severely pissed off that the three year old woke him up in the first place... followed by the five year old coming upstairs because the others are up... followed by the nine month old giggling because it all took place.  And then, nearly in unison, they all demand breakfast.  

This morning this was all followed by 3 calls:

1.  The pediatrician's office confirming they've sent all pertinent records to the neurologist's office.  (Legs start to feel wonky... we really have to go to the appointment now.  I was hoping I made it all up.)

2.  Babies Can't Wait calls.  They've made an appointment for Maximus.  Yes, his speech is delayed.  Yes, they need to evaluate.  Yes, we have to start all this in the wake of the Tourette's thing.  Rock.

3.  The Hubs calls.  One of my dad's friends has died of cancer.  ANOTHER one.  With each one my heart breaks a little.  I think of his family.  I think of his wife.  I think of the moment it happened... I hope it wasn't as horrible for him as it was my dad.  And selfishly I think of myself... soon I just won't have as many people around who knew my dad.  Hubs is upset too.

... And oh yeah!  A courtesy call from Comcast.  Internet's back on.  This is how I know I am addicted to the internet.  I panicked a little this morning when I couldn't get on.  I do a small happy dance.

This all happened literally in a span of 10 minutes.  Wears a girl out, at least mentally anyway.

In other news... this weekend Coop got his glasses.  All 6 of us went for the trip just to pick up these glasses.  Just to get out of the house.  Van overheated on the way.  Never a dull moment, I tell ya.  Anyway... I told Coopster he was free to pick out whatever style he wanted.  I thought it'd be a neat way to express himself.  I did explain nonchalantly that if he chose something along the lines of purple sequins it would take me a bit to get used to them.  I think he did pretty well.

I had to bribe him with a PB & J to get this smirk out of him.  I like the glasses though.  They are all red and black and marble-ly and artsy fartsy.  He looks so... intellectual.  And somehow, while claiming they were just what he needed, he picked up a book on Saturday and just began reading to his little brothers.  No sounding out, no nothing.  Just... read.  I love it.