Resurfacing

Pin It I am back. My links are gone, (stupid Blogger), but hopefully I will have everything restored in a day or so. And I went from about 50 visits per day to, um, 2. Guess that's what happens when you don't blog for a month, go private, then change your mind. Duh. I do really like blogging, so I'm going to make an effort to actually, um, blog.

Is this thing on? Hello? Hello? Sigh.

Sarah started first grade last week and she LOVES it. LOVES it. Loves getting to eat in the cafeteria, loves her teacher, loves her school. She told me that school is great because she is very, very smart. She turned six a day or two after school started, and on her birthday, all of the kids in her class made little cards for her. She got one from a little boy in her class that said, "Sarah, you are so pritee." (It's starting already. Eeek.)

Abby is happy to have her gone, because it means she gets to play with all of the toys by herself. Especially the Troy and Gabrielle Barbies that Sarah got for her birthday. The Troy and Gabrielle Barbies that sing songs from High School Musical. Abby loves High School Musical. She's only seen it once, which I think is more than enough for a four year old, but she listens to the soundtrack on my IPOD all the time. (Shut up, I downloaded it for her, not for me. I would never sing What I've Been Looking For - the Sharpay version - when I'm alone. Even if it is catchy. Don't look at me like that.) She starts pre-school next week.

Carter is celebrating his impending three year old birthday next month and he is taking advantage of the last month to really work the heck out of the whole terrible two thing. The kid really thinks he's in charge. He does not recognize our authority. If my husband tries to put a shirt on him he yells, "NO, MOMMY DO IT!" If I get him a cup of water he yells, "No, I GET IT! I DO IT!" He's a little tyrant. The past few days he's been in time-out every other freaking minute. He's too young for pre-school, so I am considering some type of child labor camp option. Is it wrong to be sick of your child? He knows how to work the eyelashes though, and he probably wouldn't behave this way if I hadn't been as horribly inconsistent with him as I have been. He's had me wrapped around his finger FOREVER. When he's good, he's very, very good, and sweet, and cuddly, and snuggly, and adorable, and funny, and wonderful. But when he's bad... Well, that's more like a normal day. (I kid, I kid. Sort of.)

My husband is awesome, as always. He's getting ready to go back to work. My kids are going to F-R-E-A-K out on that day. They don't understand the whole concept of people GOING to work, in an actual office. He was making some preliminary plans to embark on a life of crime and bank robbery in order to continue to stay home (after reading about the brilliant criminals in Provo who planned to rob a credit union and then HOP INTO THE RIVER WITH INNERTUBES, HOPING TO FLOAT AWAY QUICKLY, but who were, oh so surprisingly, apprehended - he figured he could come up with something better than THAT at least), but finally decided that he'd actually rather be a cop. Or an assassin. One of those. (Honestly, he would much rather be an assassin, but the long-term prospects aren't that great. Plus, no benefits.) So he goes down to Vegas to test for Metro next week. I hate the idea of moving back to LV, hate it, hate it, hate it, but he has supported my goals, and now it's my turn to support his. Although he's not actually all that happy about possibly moving back to LV either. Who knows what will actually happen.

We put our house on the market here. Our house has been for sale, then not for sale, then for sale, then not for sale. And now, for sale. The neighbors don't even ask anymore. Clearly, we are insane. My friends ask what is going on, and I just shrug. I told one of them that I could tell her what was going on, except that it would be different tomorrow, so really, kind of pointless. Whatever happens, we'll be fine. We have each other, and really, the rest is just location. And if it's Las Vegas, it's a location that SUCKS, but what can you do.

Still, I will rant. I hate Vegas. They talk about the beauty of the desert, but Vegas isn't even a desert, it's just dirt. Brown, dirt, concrete, asphault, stucco, and tile. Plus porno billboards (bonus!). Now that you can't plant grass, it's like living on the surface of the moon. I mean no disrespect to anyone who lives there and likes it, (Do people like that still exist?) but I grew up there - lived there from the time I was six weeks old until I moved three years ago, so I earned my hatred fair and square. Bah. BAH, I say.

Anyway, that's the latest. So, uh, how are you?