The Weekend

And...bam!  It's the weekend again.  How does this happen?!  I feel like my life is a series of Mondays, followed by a few days of haziness, followed by a weekend filled with craziness, followed by...a Monday.

It's 8:16am.  So far today I have managed to:

• Eat breakfast (Leftover enchiladas.  Yes, enchiladas for breakfast!  Yum!  Thank you, Wurtzbachers!)
• Make Kyrie angry with me - she has a project due at school on Tuesday and I have asked her to draw straight-edged lines under the pictures to write her sentences on, instead of scribbling them haphazardly across the page.  But, apparently this is asking too much.
• Nod at Lariska - who tells me every 30 seconds to two minutes how many more points she has made on Subway Surfer...an app on her iPod.

• Have a conversation with Matthew about Kyrie not putting enough effort into her homework and Lariska playing too much on her iPod.  Matt says we are in "Survival Mode", not "Thrival Mode". What I hear: "Give it up, Kelly."  Which is only fair, since it will all fall to his shoulders once again come Monday, but still...

• Tell Declan to stop whining.

• Type these few sentences despite Hugo sitting on my lap and pushing my arms to the side every two minutes or having to delete all the times he has tried to type for me. 

Only 35 more hours left to the weekend (with kids awake).  Will they be fun?  Will they be stressful?  Will we manage to get anything accomplished?  Will I be able to spend at least one of those minutes making it clear to each of these kids how much I love them?  Or, will I allow myself to get sucked into the drama that is our life?  There is a lot to be done (Valentine's, Homework, Lego Movie, meals, soccer, naps, Olympics and more).  Some of it is work.  Some of it is fun.  All of it is...

Declan (streaking by): I have to go potty!  I have to go potty!  I have to go potty!

Declan (desperate voice): I can't open the door!  (Child-proofed, thanks to Hugo's antics in the toilet.)

Me: Did someone lock this door from the inside?!  Declan, run upstairs.

Suck it up, Buttercup!  34.75 more hours.

P.S.  Check out the awesome shirt Jenny Rybarczyk had made for me (and one for her, too!).  So cool!!!!

Hugo (pulling arms out of sleeves): I taking jammies off.
Me: Why, Hugo?!
Hugo: I cold.