The T-Bot started public school again yesterday. I planned to take a lovely photo of him with his backpack, on his way joyously out the door, but by the time we left for school I had been lying awake for 4 hours and was in no state to remember the formalities. As it happens, he appears to have had an acceptable day, and the whole experience has rendered him…well… animated. Which was the desired result, so let’s cross fingers and see what tomorrow brings.

We spent Sunday in a whirlwind of artsy! and craftsy! activities designed to take my mind off the fact that I found myself unable to eat. A thing. Although I was downing large quantities of coffee which probably didn’t help the situation much. Deep breaths. Count to three.

When I was little we used to blow eggs before decorating them. I have revived this custom with my own family. Except for Baby Sister, who declared the process “Yucky” and”Urgghh” and promptly vanished. And The Daddy, who asked anxiously about the insides of the eggs. Whether it wouldn’t be a good idea to save them (after we have spat in them? Noooooo). “Look!” I declared, “cheap eggs! $1.59!” He still didn’t look impressed but then he disappeared too. So we carried on.

For those unfamiliar with egg blowing, you make a pinprick hole in the top…

A larger hole in the bottom…

Then blow.The result - empty egg shells which you can then decorate and leave out of the fridge. You know, like actually on display. You don’t have to eat them! You don’t have to scour every market in the vicinity for white organic eggs in large expensive quantities, in order to avoid the derision of friends and neighbors (oh did I learn my lesson last year when I turned up to a communal egg-decorating fest with 24 of Wal-mart’s cheapest).

The T-Bot loved! loved! blowing eggs.Because “it’s just like vomit!”. Nice.

And then the children dyed them different colors.

Here is the Wictor posing with the eggs we dyed - or as he prefers to call them, the “dead eggs”.

As we were dipping the eggs in the colors I asked the kids what they knew about Easter. Because Baby Sister’s best friend’s Mom gave me a lecture a short while back, after Baby Sister dared to tell her that Christmas was about Santa Claus and presents, I thought Baby Sister at least should be prepared for when Easter comes around. Sure enough, she loudly proclaimed her joy at the Easter Bunny! Eggs! and Candy!

So. Um. Where to start?

“Kids, do you  know who Jesus was?”

“No”.

“Well, Baby Sister, did you see that painting at [best friends] place of a man with a beard?

At this point the T-Bot chips in.  “You mean Charles Darwin?”

Just in case you thought things might be getting boring here Inzaburbs, yesterday evening, right after I finished up a meeting discussing colors for our new roof (oh! the decadence!), there was an almighty din overhead.

And then guess what flew right over our yard?

Well, this being Suburban Texas, it could have been a vulture.

Or an enormous owl the likes of which swooped down and tried to pick up Baby Sister when she was two.

Maybe the Mockingbird,  the state bird of Texas?

If it was one of those super noisy private planes I wouldn’t be blogging it. Those goddamn oil billionaires invade our airspace all. the. time.

Close though. It was …

… a Flying Fortress.

Well, The Daddy found it exciting anyway

(PS: Just last week, we possibly also saw one of these. )

I had a totally different post planned for this week. I thought I may even get time to write it on Monday. Because as of Monday morning, my schedule looked like this:

Monday: school, supermarket, post office

Tuesday: school

Wednesday: T-Bot: speech and language evaluation, school

Thursday: Baby sister: dentist, school

Friday: school

This schedule would have been a welcome relief after the whirlwind of the past few weeks. Oh, how I am laughing now.

Note that most of the following is self-inflicted, due to my inexplicable drive to collect children and animals.

It is Friday morning. Here is how our schedule has panned out so far.

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MONDAY

am: Receive email from friend, a crazy cat lady who isn’t actually crazy but does work at a cat shelter. The attachment is a photo of a teeny tiny cat. Call The Daddy and then agree to go look at cat.

Continue with school

Receive a very convincing spam email with an attachment and without thinking, click on it (oh the shame!).

Download Mac Virus checker. Try to work out how to use it. Find Mac virus. Try to work out how to eliminate it. Curse.

pm: Go see cat. Which is practically an obligation to buy although it is very clear that there is no such obligation. Because unlike poor Fiji, forgotten in the shelter for a year, this cat is highly adoptable.

Agree to take cat. Because OMG she is so sweet and adoptable! Must have cat now, before someone else gets her. Must. have. pretty. cat! dribble.

Discuss with friend how some people so crassly choose cats to match their furniture, and nod. All the while thinking “Pretty! My Pretty! And she kinda matches Fiji. Matching cats! Pretty!”. dribble

Go to the supermarket and the Post Office.

Sit down to fill in cat adoption forms.

Stop at question “Are your current pets’ vaccinations up to date?”.

Call vet to make an appointment.

Help The Daddy with The Dinner.

Spend 40 minutes talking to speech/language assessor.

Eat dinner, late.

Put kids to bed late.

TUESDAY

Take Fiji to the vet for his shots.

Go straight back out again for a new litter bin, cat scratcher and other new cat essentials.

Feed the boys lunch. No school today, officially classified “New Cat Field Trip Day”.

Spend 2 hours at the shelter filling out forms and visiting cats and dogs.

Get home in time to get Baby Sister off the bus.

Go to friend’s house to pick up the new cat.

Bring her home and introduce her to her new (temporary) home in the master bathroom.

She doesn’t want to stay in her new (temporary) home in the master bathroom. She is very comfortable exploring the whole house, thankyouverymuch. And she will start by escaping the minute anybody tries to open the bedroom door.

Awkward. There is a puffed-up black hissing, wailing furball parked outside the bedroom door.

The delicate gray newcomer, hand picked so as not to challenge Fiji’s dominant position in the household, disappoints. Instead of cowering so he can salvage his manly pride, she takes a swat at him. Oh nose!

The Mommy loses her senses and picks up the enormous furball to try and get him out of the way of the delicate little gray newcomer.

Next, the Mommy loses much more than her senses.

The Daddy puts the little grey Madam back in her bathroom and goes in search of a bandaid.

The Daddy is not very good at finding things. By the time he gets back The Mommy is half passed out, sweaty and shivering, her life force dripping dramatically from her hand into a bathroom sink.

Doorbell chimes. Pizza has arrived. Pizzaman looks alarmed at sight of The Mommy’s arm, but it is The Mommy’s right arm and she needs it to sign.

Cat escapes again. Another dramatic scene. This time The Mommy does not intervene but makes The Daddy go in, armed with pillows.

Gray cat suitably chastened, decides not to escape anymore.

Put children to bed, late.

WEDNESDAY

Awoken at 6am by cats fighting.

Just as well am awake as due to an apparent “typo” we have to be in Houston by 8.30, not 9.30

Get Baby Sister to bus and The Wictor to preschool, drive into Houston for language assessment. Arrive pumped with adrenalin, only 10 minutes late.

Return from Houston via McDonalds drive-thru. Call doctor. Doctor assigned by HMO is not taking new patients. Make several dozen phone calls to establish that another doctor can be seen in network. Make appointment.

Yell to the T-Bot “Twenty Minutes Free Time!!” Hear audible sigh.

Arrive at doctors. Receive tetanus booster. Receive antibiotics. Thank poor unfortunate Guy who ended up in hospital after a cat mauling for getting me to the doctors in this case, as doctor regales me with stories of people who have left cat bites to become infected and lost use of tendons, undergone microsurgery and worse.

Go to the supermarket, pick up younger kids. Go home. Binge on Tiramasu cookies. Spend the evening shuttling back and forth between bathroomed cat and resident cat. Cross fingers very hard that one day they will consent to share a litter box.

Forget children in the bath. Remember. Put them to bed, late.

THURSDAY

Trip to dentist mercifully uneventful. Drop Baby Sister off at school. Enroll the T-Bot at school. Rush to drop The Wictor off at his school before soccer at 9.30. Learn that soccer was at 8.30. Another Epic Parenting Fail. But one salvaged by the teacher who offers to get him in to the next class with the big kids.

This is why it pays to live somewhere where people are nice.

So by Thursday the schedule is slowing down. The T-Bot and I do school, supermarket, post office, pick up my license plates from Toyota (Hate them. Hate them.) Pick up The Wictor. Get home to find the fence missing from the next door neighbor’s house and a Fire Truck (FireTruck!) parked outside. There is a noise like a high pressure hose and the street is heavy with gas.

The fencer  ruptured the gas line.

Wear my sweatshirt over my face to pick up Baby Sister from the bus. Spend an hour listening to weeping, wailing, whining children and struggling to keep them in the house. Later I let them loose in the yard and struggle to keep The Wictor from playing with shards of fence and from leaping into the neighbor’s pool.

After dinner the FireTruck! returns. Stupidly promise the children (noses pressed to the window) that they can watch the FireTruck! until it leaves, and then have a bath. The FireTruck! does not leave for a long, long time.

Children weep and wail for a bath. Give up and go drink wine.

Remember children in the bath. Put them to bed, late.

FRIDAY:

So far mercifully uneventful. It is a running joke in this house that all I do all day is lounge on the couch watching Oprah and eating bonbons.

Sadly, I have not had time to watch Oprah this week (or indeed, since 1997).

Is she on a public channel? Next week is Spring Break. Maybe I should treat myself