Well. It's been a long week. A long, dreadful week trapped in the trenches of homeschooling/stay at home parenting bliss.
And I use the term "bliss" quite loosely.
Quite.
Some weeks are good.
And some weeks leave you wondering how on earth your life ended up this way.
I mean, what kind of a life is spent picking up random socks, muttering nonsense to yourself, talking to a dog, attempting to teach math, wiping up crumbs, wiping up toilet seats, attempting to teach reading, folding laundry, skipping science because you've "had it", and arguing with 2 year olds about the necessity of pants.
Then we had to argue over whether or not helmets were meant for sleeping in.
I mean, really. How could that be comfortable?
Can I just say that I am really proud that we got teeth-brusing accomplished today?
Who needs science anyways?
All year long Daisy Mae has had trouble understanding seasons. Why?
I cannot be certain.
But I have been pounding it into her brain over and over, all the different characteristics of the seasons.
Now. Spring started like forever ago.
Am I right or am I right?
Well, no wonder the lass is so confused.
Can you see it? Can you see it?
Snow. On April the 29th.
What does it MEAN?
Oh, bother.
I have nothing to talk about. Can you tell?
It was just a bad, boring week following the unneccessary, yet eventful, ER trip. Of which I am still emotionally recovering from.
In other equally riveting news, I baked my first loaf of bread.
I know what you are thinking:
"What CAN'T this girl do?!?"
(teach science)
I know. I know.
Would you like to learn my secrets?
1) Realize you are almost 30 and you have never baked bread.
2) Try to decide if you care.
3) Remember your unhealthy fear of active dry yeast and recipes where water has to have a temperature.
4) I don't know how to take water's tempterature.
5) ?
6) Remember somebody gave you a bread machine for your wedding. 11 years ago. Of which you have never used.
7) Decide that you are super rude and an ungrateful brat.
8) Buy yeast.
9) Find a recipe. Dump stuff into bread machine. Watch as nothing happens.
10) Wait 2 hours and 35 minutes for the bread machine to do something. Anything.
11) Dump everything out. Throw it away. Scold yourself for thinking you could bake bread. You should know better.
12) Realize you never fully attached the something or other to the other important something or other.
13) Gather up your courage and try again.
14) Sha-Zam!
15) Watch in horror as your four, apparently starving, children devour the loaf in 4.8 minutes.
16) Shake your head and start your third loaf for the day.
17) Decide this might not save you as much money as you had initially hoped.
In other news, I am making pork chops for dinner. Nasty.
The boys are playing bubbles. The girls are playing exericse.
I probably should join them.
But I won't.
I shall leave you all with the joke that Daisy Mae made up today and has told me each hour on the hour.
What did the boy salt say to the girl salt?
Wait for it . . .
Wait for it . . .
Can I have a SALT-ine?
*giggle, giggle, chuckle, chuckle*
Feel free to steal it.
Happy Weekend!