It’s Definitely February

It’s been a week-ish, so I guess I should blog?  Without the kids around so much, it’s kind of weird to me that this blog is becoming less about them and more about me.  I am not nearly as entertaining.

So I’m still “not writing a book.”  I spend several hours a day “not writing a book,” a couple hours a day reading books, and the rest of my time is spent volunteering or exercising or cooking or scrapbooking.  It’s not a bad way to spend a day, except for the judgy voice in my head that is always finding something to harp on me about regarding my current activity.

But seriously, the boys have to be more entertaining than all that? 

Vincenzo continues to underestimate his workload at school and to my horror is completely comfortable with a B- he got on his report card. 

V: Mom, that’s still a really good grade!
Me: Get behind me Satan!

He joined math Olympiad and the wrestling team which really should be a joint class anyway, right?  I’m just saying kids from each of those classes could probably really stand to take the other one.  V spent an hour taking notes on the Greek Olympics last night and when he came out of his room, he had 4 lines of notes.  2 of them were the addresses he got 2 actual lines of notes from.  Then he cried when I tried to help him take more notes.  So, you know, he’s driving me A LITTLE BIT CRAZY and it’s getting harder to hide it from him.

Rocco is still an intense little kid who has learned that mom gets upset when he constantly asks, “What can I do to earn video game time?” but that Mom looks pleased when he asks, “What can I do to help?”  And then after he helps cook or clean or fix things, I enjoy watching him squirm, trying his hardest not to ask, “How much time did that earn?”  It looks a lot like a pee-pee dance without the crotch grabbing.  “Just go play,” I finally tell him. 

Leo is three days short of being a 6-year-old.  he’s still pretty snuggly, only now he looks like one of those giant dogs trying to sit on its owner’s lap.  He’s long and angular and has a loose tooth that made his mama cry.  He is a constant stream of unintelligible words all having something to do with the latest game of Minecraft he played, but fortunately he has stopped needing me to say “M-hm” every once in awhile; he just talks and talks and assumes I am hanging on every word. 

“Right, Mom?” 
“What?  Oh.  M-hm.”

Aw, look—he does still need me!

Twice baked potatoes

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