Happy Saturday, everybody!
It's been an insane day. I'm in the middle of an overnight babysitting job for a 15-year-old girl and a 7-year-old boy. Coordinating both their schedules has been tough, to say the least!
* Woke up VERY early w/ the 7-year-old
* We were all fed, dressed and out the door practically before the sun was up
* Drove across town and dropped off the girl at violin lessons
* Ran to Star.bucks with the boy and got a (very large) cup of coffee (black, no room for cream. I don't mess around with my coffee.)
* Ran around with the boy at the park for 30 minutes, willing the caffeine to kick in so I could wake up
* Drove back to get the girl at violin lessons and flew to So.nic to grab lunch
* Flew from So.nic back across town to the boy's soccer game
* Sat on bleachers for an hour watching 7-year-olds "play" soccer (read: get distracted, sit down on the field, pick dandelions, etc.)
* The second the game was over, we flew BACK across town to get the girl to her own soccer practice
* Drove back across town AGAIN to take the boy to his friend's house
* Now I'm at home collapsed on the sofa for 20 minutes before I have to drive, again, BACK across town to pick up the girl.
I'm exhausted. So naturally, I posted a blog rather than catch 15 minutes of much-needed sleep. I love y'all.
I'll share a quick picture of the cutest dog ever--the boy and girl's--and an E. story, and then I've gotta run!
Juliet (she's a mix between a German Shepherd and a Greyhound):
And E.'s story:
The girls and I were at the mall yesterday shopping for their winter coats. E. had to go to the bathroom. Now, the bathroom is a one-person bathroom behind a door on the wall of the store. It's very visible. Anyway, I had the door semi-propped open so I could keep an eye on A., who was playing in between the clothing racks, and E., who was on the toilet.
All of a sudden, E. calls me.
"Yes, E.?" I ask, thinking she needs me to wipe her bottom or something. Nope.
"The poopoo won't come out."
"Oh...um...can you squeeze really hard?"
"Well, maybe you don't have to go right now."
"Well, try again..."
"Can you get the poopoo out for me?"
"No, not easily..."
"Sorry, girl...I don't think I can."
Poor kid. I know she was constipated and that sucks, but it was just so darn funny (and gross at the same time) when she asked if I could get the poopoo out. So naturally I ran for paper and a pencil to write it down to share with you guys!
(P.S. Many apologies to those who were eating while reading this. But you know to enter this blog at your own risk. You never know what you're going to find.)