So, it's like the first day of Second Grade.Weird, huh.
You're probably wondering right now "How did Marie's baby become a SECOND GRADER?!?!" I have given it some thought as well.
I don't have the answer to that.
But really, it wasn't nearly as traumatizing leaving him at his classroom this morning. How can you regret something that makes him so pea-pickin' happy?
You can't. And that is the whole truth.
I want to make one thing very very very very clear:
If I have to listen and read about political incumbents CLEAR UP TO election night 2012, I am going to lose my mind. I am already so sick of it.
I'm writing in myself. I don't want the job. I just want to make the ballot.
And that will solve everything!
We have already bottled four batches of tomato products. Two rounds of salsa, crushed tomatoes and whole tomatoes. We're thinking of pursuing spaghetti sauce next, because that sounds very adventurous. I like this tomato inundation. I do not; however, like how they burn your hands while bottling. The Double B told me last night "they don't burn, they sting." Which I like to call, "Syntax." Or; "They might sting you, but they burn me, BUSTER!" I didn't say that, though. I am so sweet it's sickening. Honestly. If I wasn't part crazy woman, I think I would just be the most charming wife in the whole entire universe. It's just ... I am part crazy woman. More then part, maybe. I have gotten much better about it, but sometimes if I have an opinion about something I just blurt it out there. The Double B told me that only applies to my overwhelming obsessive desire for mostly-female-but-really-overall-human-equality. I'm not sure he knows what he is talking about. Either way, I had to repent last night. Again.
Just so you know, I really am not sure at all how that last paragraph started with bottling tomatoes and ended with my "I was born with this disorder" disorder. But it did. And I'm not changing it. It is Monday, and I feel like I should just be honest and let the words flow freely off into outer space.
I miss blogging frequently. I think it helped keep me slightly more -- well -- I liked it. So I'm going to make a more concerted effort. Sometimes -- and you other bloggers might understand this -- I feel a little pressure to only be funny or charming, but really -- I do better when I just barf my words and thoughts all over the page and let the seventeen people who read this little bloggy-blog think what they will. We all know it's too late to change that opinion, anyway.
This is a very charming story about Olivia that you need to know so that you'll sleep better and happier tonight:
One of Olivia's grand passions is to borrow scriptures from the Church library every Sunday. I don't really know why. It's not like she doesn't have scriptures at home. But I think it really helps her feel like a part of the congregation, you know? So I let her do it, because I don't see the harm in it. And some of the librarians don't particularly appreciate my very articulate four-year-old borrowing scriptures, but I still let her do it, because as previously mentioned, I don't see the harm in it. Am I wrong in doing that? Maybe. Anyhow.
Yesterday no one could hear her asking for scriptures. Or maybe she was ignored. But either way, no one could hear her and it was upsetting her very, very much because she was supposed to give the scripture in primary and how can you give the scripture if you don't have scriptures? I ask you. So there were tears. Weeping, weeping tears. My friend Mandie came into the library and asked what was wrong. Olivia explained the situation and Mandie, of course, signed her in and got her some scriptures. At that point Sister Dutton came in, who is the Primary President and also has the patience of Job with my slightly emotional daughter, and picked her up and took her to primary, trying to comfort her. At which point Olivia blurted "I just (sob) want to learn (sob) about Jesus! (sob)." Which I think is both hilarious and sweet. Sister Dutton assured her they would learn about Jesus.
By that time I was in the room to help Miss Sissy-Poo-Nanny give the scripture, which of course, in a burst of shyness, she wouldn't do. She's only actually spoken her part from the primary pulpit once, which was last week. But she hasn't given up trying! Never! Never relent!
After Junior Primary I was in the hall with the young women and Sister Densley comes out with the Sunbeams, carrying Olivia -- who is dead asleep drooling on her shoulder, her arms flung all over Sister D.'s shoulders.
It was tragic.
And so stinking cute.
After church Liv and I were talking. The conversation went like this:
Mom - Isn't your teacher awesome? Sister Densley is so nice!
Liv - Yes, she is so nice! I want to ... make her cookies ... and paint her a picture!
So we made cookies and Liv painted her not one but two beautiful pictures, which we marched right up the street to Teacher's house. On the picture Livi had me write a note:
I like you so much.
Olivia and her family.
Doesn't that just warm your heart? Walking back down the street I asked Livi if she felt so good inside because she did something nice for someone else. She gave a big nod and there was a definite spring to her step as we strolled home holding hands.
I was glad to be there in that moment.
I've said it before, but honestly -- what would ever make me want to miss this? Being a Mom is so stinkin' cool. Broadway's got nothin' on you, kids!