Tuba's, Senator's and Nun-chucks

This week has brought much fun and folly to the Sogn-Dewar household.  The kids are getting ready to go back to school and we are in the process of doing all of the fun…err pain in the ass…stuff that comes along with it.  Monday started with middle school registration for Paige.  Paige cannot wait to go back to school but has had much anxiety about entering a new middle school.  She is a perfectionist and is exceedingly organized because of it, and so it was no surprise that she had registration mapped out for us with no help from her parents. 

While we were wrapping up our day at registration, Paige and I stopped to talk to a friend of hers and their parents.  And then it happened…

Gavin comes running up to me…

Gavin:  “Mom!! MOM!!”  (tugging on my arm)
Me:  “What Gavin?!?”
Gavin:  “Come with me…”
Me:  “I’m talking.”

Gavin:  “I need to whisper something.”

I lean down and Gavin whispers: “Dad’s stuck.”
Me:  “Where?”
Gavin:  “Follow me.”

So I politely excuse myself, not letting Paige know that her father is stuck God knows where (hey…middle school is tough enough).  Gavin leads me down the hallway into the orchestra room and there is my ex-husband, STUCK IN THE TUBA LOCKER.         

Me:  “Are you kidding me?!?!?!?”

Ex:  “Can you let me out?”

Me:  “Seriously?”

Ex:  “You’re no fun and you still can’t take a joke.”

Me:  “You’re an idiot who’s stuck in a tuba locker…the jokes on you.”

After receiving a half-assed apology I let my ex out of the tuba cage.  I still have yet to tell Paige that he was stuck in there to begin with as I do not want her to be forever known as “tuba-girl.”

 

*SUPER DUPER FACEPALM*

The rest of the week the kids spent with their dad and I tried to get as much done as I possibly could so that I could enjoy taking advantage of being done at noon today.  When the kids came home yesterday I promised that we would resume school shopping as I had caught up enough to be done and have a free afternoon.  Unfortunately, I got an email last night from a Senator’s office asking me to be available for a call sometime before 5:00 pm today. 

By 1:00 this afternoon, I still had not received the call I was waiting for.  Paige was fine with this as she didn’t wake up until noon, however; Gavin’s attitude was a little different and he engaged me in the following conversation:

Gavin:  “Has he called yet?”
Me:  “Nope.”
Gavin:  “Ugh mooooooooom…does he realize that he is screwing up my mo and my jo?”
Me:  “He’s probably not too concerned with your mo or your jo.”
Gavin:  “Seriously mom?!?!?  It’s not like he’s the President!”

*FACEPALM*

After my phone call FINALLY came in we were ready to venture out for school supplies.  We took a trip to Target and meandered our way through the back to school aisles attempting to get everything on our list in an expedient manner.  All went well and I let the kids each pick something special out for being patient and understanding.  Paige picked out a pair of shorts that I never would have let her get had I not felt so guilty about changing our plans and Gavin got a pair of plastic nun-chucks because he picked up another alter-ego…a ninja.

I had sincere reservations about the nun-chucks but figured he couldn’t do much damage to himself with plastic.  Hmmmmmm…I guess I should have thought that one through.

Gavin twirls the nun-chucks around his head.
Me:  “Ummm…probably not a good idea.”
Gavin clocks himself in the head with the nun chucks.
Gavin:  “Mooooooom, you should have told me that these could hurt me.  They are plastic, but they still hurt.”

Annnnnnnd he proceeds to turn to my friend and say:
Gavin:  “I got a pair of nun chucks and I know how to use them.”
While giving him his best “naughty daddy look.”

*FACEPALM*  

And so there you have it folks: another week in our life.   We are laying low tonight and I am praying to the tuba gods that Paige never finds out about the her dad being locked in the tuba cage and to the ninja gods so that Gavin doesn’t clock himself in the head with his nun-chucks, again.  Happy Friday!!!

Birthing, Turrets (or Tourette's), Moves Like Jagger, Hippies, and Abs!

It has been an exceedingly long time since I have updated this blog.  In March, I took on a VERY full time job on top of my already full time job and was left with little balance.  Five months later, I think that I have finally regained the control in my work life…my home life is still quite different.

A lot has happened since I last blogged, but the one thing that has remained the same is that my tiny humans are still nuts.  And so this installment of Finding Trish begins.

Yesterday was a busy day for us in the Sogn-Dewar household.  We are in the process of finding/buying a house and that has dominated much of our personal time.  Whilst waiting (ever so patiently) for my friend to pick us up to walk through a house Paige decided she wanted to know what giving birth felt like.
Paige: “What was the birth process like?”
Me:  “Where did that come from?”
Paige: “Science class.”
Me: “Well, Paige, it’s a lot like looking for houses.  It seems like a fantastic idea at first, towards the middle you just want it to be over with, it becomes a pain in the ass and FINALLY at the end you have something to show for it.”
Paige:  “Well, this is my perspective… I was Lewis and Clark on a bumpy adventure that ended with me seeing the light when I made my daring escape from your uterus.”

*FACEPALM*

At this point, I know that we are in for some “normal” family time.  When we get to the house that we were viewing, Gavin runs in the door and says to the realtor “Hey baby, I’m home.”

 *FACEPALM*

As we meandered our way through the house, Gavin found the most important room to him…the man cave.
Gavin: “Mom!!  MOM!!! I found the MAN CAVE!!!”
Realtor:  “So, you think that this will be your man cave?”
Gavin:  “Yup…no girls allowed, or the TOURETTES will get them.”
The realtor gives me an inquisitive look.
Me:  “I think you mean turrets, Gavin.”
Realtor:  “What are turrets?”
Gavin:  “The things that shock girls so they can’t enter the man cave!”
Annnnnd the realtor’s inquisitive look quickly shifts to the “are you a family of crazy people look” that we have become so accustomed to.

*FACEPALM*

After attempting to play “normal” while we viewed the rest of the house, it was time to leave…thank god.  We decided on our way home to pick up McDonald’s…and so the fun continued.  Paige has recently been deemed old enough to sit in the front seat of the car and has become the resident DJ.  Paige’s taste in music is normally tolerable, however; she found a bubble-gum-pop-hipster song that tickled her fancy and began to bust a move in the front seat as we pulled up to pay for our meal.

Gavin:  “OMG…and she says I am the embarrassing child?”
Me:   “True and dat.”
Gavin:  “Hey Paige:  you don’t have the mooooooooves like Jagger (in perfect Maroon 5 harmony).”
Guy at McDonalds: “I’m sorry…that is the funniest thing I have heard ALL night.”
And he proceeds to close the drive thru door so he can compose himself.

*FACEPALM*

When we finally get our food and get back on the road Gavin came to the astute conclusion that he was missing his new favorite show.

Gavin: “Mom!  Step on it!  I’m missing Ninjago!”
Me:  “I can’t go any faster; someone is in front of me.”
Gavin peers through the windshield and sees a motorcycle.
Gavin:  “I thought motorcycles were supposed to be FAST.”

And before I know it, Gavin rolls down his window and says:

Gavin: “MOVE IT YOU HIPPIES!”

ANNNNNNNNNNNNND shakes his 9 year-old fist at them.

*FACEPALM*

When we get home, my dear friend Bart stopped by to inquire about the house hunting. 

Paige:  “You are wearing a nice shirt.  You got haircut.  Did you meet a girl?”
Bart: “No.”
Paige: “How are your abs doing?”
Bart: “They are abs of steel!”
Paige pokes Bart in the stomach.
Paige: “Flexible steel, maybe.”

*FACEPALM*

So after birthing, turrets (or tourettes), moves like Jagger, hippies, and abs of steel I hereby solemnly swear to update this blog once a week at a minimum.  This life is too good to keep to myself! J