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Nesquik & Noise

This week has been a flurry of activity with all the business end of business needing to be completed before January 31.

I've finished entering mounds of data that I should have done all along. I used to do it all along, then when I got so buried in work in June, I let it pile up into a paper tiger. Anyway, it's all done now, and my head is clearer to think.

Included in this week has been the business end of house managing. I like to keep records of expenditures monthly, then annually, in a chart with averages off to the side. So far, the most use it has been over the years is to make me mad looking back at all the money we blow on stupid stuff.

Still, I can't stop the record-keeping; it's just in my blood.


Having children means seeing random craziness that feels rather normal when in the proper setting. Some of it manifests as:

  • A napkin twisted tightly into a ring, then inserted into both nostrils, much like a bull would wear. I should have known when I asked not to expect any real reason for inserting a napkin up one's nose.

  • How about random loud noises, of an abundant variety, that just erupt from children now and then, or all the time? Squawking like a chicken? Shooting down imaginary enemy airplanes with finger guns and enough spit to mop the floor? Ever heard a pterodactyl? Vvvvvrrroooommm. Pffffft. Errrkk! OoOoOoOoOo!

  • Nesquik powder on the counter and the floor and the backsplash and the coffeepot and the butter dish and in the butter dish.

  • One tablespoon of milk left in the jug.

  • An empty toilet paper roll at one hand; a plentiful supply of new rolls at the other hand.

  • Used band-aids buried in the sheets.

  • Using a sofa in every possible position except that for which it was made: sitting.

  • An empty Pringles can stuffed with candy and squirreled away in a nest of fabric scraps.

  • Pencils or straws stuck into every facial orifice imaginable.

  • Chewed bits of... everything!

  • Stickers plastered all over a brand-new bed.

  • Walking about in a combo Egyptian/chicken manner.

With all the crazy just in one day, or even one hour of it, I love the time at night when they finally settle down, the crazy leaves the house for the night, and they look again just as they did when they were babies: sleeping so peacefully and cheeks still squishy.

The frustrations of the day melt away in the night as I watch them sleeping, soaking in one part of the day that isn't a blur of activity and noise.

Somebody's cute baby.


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