Last week, Daniel and Eve had preschool camp. They got to go in their swimsuits and play in the water, make crafts, and eat lunch. It was enough to wear them out all kinds of good. I bought a kiddie pool to put in the backyard for the afternoon hours between camp and carpool and sent them right back outside in the 100-degree heat to nurse some popsicles and soak up some ultraviolet radiation.
One afternoon, as I was re-lubing Eve with copious amounts of sunscreen (or as Daniel knows it, "hair product"), she pointed to her scars. This one is from my port and this one is from my cancer. I drank all my milk, so I don't have cancer anymore.
I often wonder if all the hormones in our milk are making girls grow up faster than before; Natalie looks so much older and is so much bigger than you'd expect a six-year-old to be. Maybe I'll switch her to organic milk, but keep Eve on the stuff that makes you grow bigger. You know, to make up for those inches she may have already lost from the radiation.
Anyway, I don't care how big or short she grows up to be, I'm just glad she's here now, thinking of how many ways she can drain all 550 gallons from this pool.
I love Daniel. Only he would bring a life jacket, noodle, and dive sticks to a 550-gallon kiddie pool.
I love Matt, too. He makes my dreams come true.
Example: Nacho bar. Beer. Funfetti cupcakes with rainbow chip icing.
I really wanted to give the kids some Benadryl for their "allergies" or Dramamine for their "motion sickness" but I got distracted by the ten pounds of birthday cheese on my counter top and the kids eventually fell asleep by themselves.
In spite of all that sneezing and dizziness.
The next morning, Natalie came into our room and nonchalantly woke us up. Hey Mom, I was going downstairs so I could turn on the Wii and play some Lego Harry Potter and...umm...there's a guy on the couch.
I guess someone wasn't drinking milk with their nachos.
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