Ah, isn’t the invitation lovely? Yes. Well. I neglected to mention that Photoshop crashed when I tried to save it (“But it can’t crash! I didn’t save yet! Because I’m saving NOW!”). Dane came along, patted my shoulder and said, “It’s always easier the second time around.” He didn’t add that it’s also more annoying the second time. But I whipped up the same invitation, this time saving every step along the way, and sent it out.

And the next morning, I had a lovely email pointing out that March 11 is a Sunday, not a Saturday, as I had indicated on the invitation. Oddly, only ONE of the people I sent the invitation to noticed this. Also oddly, I do this EVERY SINGLE TIME we throw a party. For future reference, looking at the wrong month will cause your day and date not to match up. Checking a 2006 or 2008 calendar for a 2007 date will result in a screw up. I also do not recommend attempting to count forward from today’s date, especially without consulting a reliable source as to what today’s date actually IS.

At any rate, I changed the date on the invitation, re-saved, and re-sent. Except I didn’t re-size, so I sent everyone a 22” x 33” invitation. Argggh. Re-size, re-send! With an apology for clogging everyone’s inboxes! Luckily, “everyone” consists of a handful of relatives and a couple of close friends unlikely to disown me over a smattering of annoying email.

How much do I love Shabby Princess? Umm, rather a lot. Even though I can only access the PDFs and when I try to open the PNGs, my computer crashes. Whatever, I’ll stick with the PDFs. That’s all I need to make dazzling party invitations, anyhow. Check out what I made for Audrey’s upcoming birthday! (Feel free to imagine them a bit bigger and with real party info. And decide for yourself if you want to imagine away the obnoxious grammar.)

Now I just have to figure out what to do for the actual party.

Owen spent much of his day telephoning his buddy Ella. She wasn’t at home.

Some of the times he left messages. (“Hi Ella, this is Owen. I am calling for Ella. Ella, please call me back. It is Owen. I love you! Bye-bye!”) Other times he hung up angrily on her answering machine, possibly shouting, “SHE’S NOT THERE!” first.

She called back this evening, and they had a nice back-and-forth conversation (pretty impressive when you’re two and three). The parts of the conversation I understood involved their making plans to get together tomorrow, discussing the weather forecast, and telling each other to sleep well. There was other stuff I didn’t catch.

So at dinner I asked, “What did Ella have to say tonight?”

Owen considered the question, then replied: “She said, ‘Hello, Owen.’”

Another day, another pitiful attempt to Do Things We’re Supposed To Do In Some Semblance of Order. By noon I had decided that Owen could not be expected to be interested in anything for more than three minutes together, and I was just going to have to rethink the routine thing.

Then the mail came.

In the mail was a birthday invitation. “It’s got Batman!” Owen yelled, then sat down to examine it. A minute passed. Two. Three. FIVE. “Mom?” He called. “Who IS Batman?” Still sitting still, studying the card. I don’t think he even looked up as he asked.

“Batman’s an imaginary guy,” I said. “He’s friendly.” As opposed to, you know, evil. “He’s an imaginary hero.”

“Ah.” And he continued to sit there. After a while he piped up: “I think Batman is also a bad guy.”

I was sort of noncommittal on that point, as I’m sure his thesis could be reasonably argued. And still he sat. THIRTY MINUTES he spent sitting there on the couch, poring over the birthday invitation which he could not even read.

Apparently if I were just willing to incorporate menacing superheroes into our daily routine, I would have his complete and undivided attention. And yet… I do not see that happening. Sigh.

So, the schedule? Did NOT work better today. Turns out the problem wasn’t so much that I underscheduled, as that Owen is done being scheduled around, oh, 10:30 AM. And, for the record, the “schedule” doesn’t have times. It’s more of a “we do this stuff in this order” thing. There are approximate times for get up, eat meals, go to bed. So we got through the morning things and, as planned, I broke out the extra activity before lunch! Owen glanced at it, then wandered off.

But hey, quiet time really was quiet. So that’s something. Also, I baked pumpkin bread. That’s something else.

And Kate’s right: if I can think of not thinking, I’m clearly thinking of something. Just not something interesting. So now I just have to work on the interesting part.

Everyone is healthy again. Fevers are gone. But the chaos has officially infiltrated my brain.

I suddenly feel like there’s no room in my head to think, much less to write anything down. The other night Dane asked why I didn’t write about my lack of mental space. “I’ve been trying!” I wailed back. So you know things are going well.

I have an essay I want to write, and another one that I want to rewrite with a new focus, a couple of other random things not quite as pressing. But even when the kids aren’t physically on my body or asking for something, I stare blankly at the screen… and then three minutes later someone IS climbing into my lap or asking for something and I give up again.

So I decided maybe we needed more structure. I printed out a new schedule, with things like Quiet Time! Which we technically have every day, though lately it’s been more like Sit On Your Bed And Ask Mom For Something Every Two Minutes While Audrey Naps Time. I like it better when it’s Quiet! For reading and writing! (Also the kids do have better afternoons if they rest a while after lunch. It’s not ALL about me. Though some of it is.)

The kids checked the schedule every hour or so today to make sure we were on track (let the schedule be the boss… I swear that’s part of some parenting philosophy). Turns out I under-scheduled; we ran out of activities slightly before we ran out of time. Tomorrow I’ll have backups.

And if that doesn’t work, I can just leave my brain to fester for the next dozen years. I can always start thinking again when they’re all grown! When there’s no more chaos! Unless I’ve forgotten how by then! Woo-hoo.

So. Um. Dane gave me a valentine that read:

I’d love you even if you were the center of the sun
and I was a little ice cube that had already been out of
the freezer for twenty minutes.

With a cute little ice cubey graphic on the front. Um… Um…

He’ll love me, even as I drain the life from his being? As I chip away at the very essence of his existence, he will continue to swoon?

Not your typical Valentines Day sentiment, which makes me like it all the more (and may have something to do with why he chose it). I promise not to vaporize him, on Valentines Day or in general.

But what say you: sweet or creepy?

Hey! Kids’ fevers are gone! (For now.) (I think.) (Don’t quote me on it.)

Happy Valentines Day!

Also: Me sick. Send chocolate. Will write more when feeling better.

Me to Dane, as I experiment with other colors and fonts and whatnot for the blog: “I don’t use the category feature on my blog. I can’t think of useful categories.” Sigh.

Him: “How about ‘Whining,’ ‘Laundry,’ and ‘Whining About Laundry’?”

Me: “Nothing about the kids?”

Him: “Oh, all right. And ‘Whining About the Kids.’”

Me: “Ah, yes. Thank you. Why didn’t I ask you sooner?”

“Why, WHY don’t the children SLEEP?” Dane asked me this morning.

We have this conversation every single day. They do sleep, they just think that rising before the sun is absolutely necessary.

This particular morning, Audrey woke up howling. I think the screams started before she was actually awake, and I know for sure they continued to erupt anew every seven minutes for the next several hours. I’m not exactly sure why she was so displeased. Waking up at o’dark thirty might have had something to do with it.

Instead of leaping out of bed to organize the day like proper adults, Dane and I sat in the pre-dawn darkness discussing new sleep rules. Here’s what we came up with:

1. Sleep. At night. All night. Everyone. Always.

2. Don’t scream. Please don’t scream. If you have something to scream about, gently wake us and tell us, then GO BACK TO SLEEP. Unless it happens to still be the middle of the night, in which case see Rule 1.

3. Do not wake any of your siblings. We know you did not wake them on purpose. Do not wake them by accident. Please.

So that should take them the next eighty-seven years to learn, right? Plus of course we’ll have to negotiate exceptions (including, though I suspect not limited to, the Sickness Exception, the Unfortunate Dream Exception, and the I’m A Baby And Therefore Not Really Interested In Your Rules Exception).

Oh well. Someday we’ll sleep regularly again. Though doing so may put the coffee shop down the street out of business. Hmm…