The Giggles

I guess my world is completely dependent on my hormones. Right this moment I am watching Brighton sit pretty much on top of Boeing, who WAS peacefully DREAMING, holding my cell phone to Boeing’s head yelling, “Look! Boe Boe! Bwy Bwy’s hand!” 

And since I’ve woken up feeling like a song bird that just got a whiff of spring, I just SMILED and thought, ‘Sooo sweet that he is a) so excited about seeing the picture I took of his hand holding the fake roach I put there for him to freak when he woke up, b) desirous to share his excitement with his baby brother.’

And now he is riding him like a horse saying, “Bouncy Bouncy!” (I did intervene! Boeing is still breathing and happy). AND Brooklyn has now been drug from her bed by a gleeful Brighton yelling, “Waked up Bwook Bwook!!” (And ALL their covers are now on the ground). Brooklyn’s hormones must be on track with mine. She half opened her eyes, smiled and said, “Silly Bry Bry.”

Starling and I have been cracking UP at this little household we’re attempting to manage. I was nursing Boeing in the living room and Brooklyn was on the potty. She was yelling at the TOP of her LUNGS, “MOMMAY!!!!!!! I’m DOOOOOOOOOOONE!!” I obviously had no intention of MOVING. I was quite cozy and had JUST gotten that way for the FIRST time that day. (It was like 8 p.m). I tried yelling back to her something about, “THEN GET OFF!!” BUT by then she had found her chant to be rhythmic and was singing her yell over and over and couldn’t hear ME over herself. (She gets that from her parents that make EVERYTHING into a song. And I mean EVERYTHING). Plus, when I yelled Boeing jumped, unlatched, and then milk went to spraying everything in a five mile radius. Brighton was curiously watching this process unfold. I said, “Bry! Will you go tell sister ‘MOMMY said GET OFF the POTTY if you are DONE.” VERY excited to be given an assignment, he hurriedly ran (right into the hall WALL) regained his balance and took off to the bathroom.

Then I hear, “MOMMMMAY I’m DONE!!!” (still in a sing song voice). And Brighton’s big turn. “Bwook Bwook. Potty.” (In the voice of the Clear Eyes Commercial man. Total deep monotone) NOTHING about what Mommy said but whatever. And they repeat this about ten times. “MOMMAY I’m DONE!” “Bwook Bwook Potty.” “Mommay I’m done!” “Bwook Bwook Potty.”

It sounded like they had invented a toddler rap to me in my half delirium mind frame, and I got so tickled I was laughing Boeing off my lap, which is unfortunate, but when I get tickled about something, the harder I try NOT to laugh, the more funny it becomes. So then I gave up on Boeing, who bless him, is the most patient baby on earth, who just clung to my hip still blinking milk out of his eyes while I went to peak in on Potty Rhapsody.

Brooklyn was yelling using one hand as a mic and the other as a cheerleading tool while Brighton danced around the toilet, rather bent his knees and moved back and forth like a gorilla. This lasted until Brighton caught sight of the spray bottle on top of the sink. And soaked Brooklyn, who couldn’t escape. (Which is how EVERY bathroom venture ends. Brighton can’t WAIT to have a trapped target to spray. At least it was water this time. He sprayed her down with mean green last week. Her outfit now has pretty pink bleach spots. Glad I was blissfully happy THAT day or Brighton may not have hands).

And AJ! Dear boy. We were at Chic-Fil-A eating lunch and AJ said he always hears something that sounds like someone knocking on the front door. Starling nonchalantly said, “Ah, yeah. That’s just the man in the attic.” And continued stuffing his face. I kind of laughed and continued slurping my High C. And I don’t know how long it took me to realize AJ’s eyes were about to plop out on the table, but at some point I did notice.

 “Are you for REAL?!” he finally choked out. Starling was OBVIOUSLY going to continue because he started with, “You know that little door in Brighton’s room?” But, I, not wanting to wake up with FOUR children in my bed, quickly SQUASHED the story. I mean, really, you don’t mess with a kid that locks every door in the house, then locks the little chain thing (that I’ve only ever seen in movies but our doors weirdly have them. The ones we haven’t yet replaced).  And THEN pushes five gallon paint buckets in front of them. No. You stick to scaring the Starling’s of the world. And occasionally your one year old with fake roaches…

“There are NO people in our attic or anywhere else in our house for that matter. We bless all of our homes when we move in and every night we pray for safety. Our house is very safe.” (So long as you don’t trip over random tools, step on a nail, or electrocute yourself). But I didn’t add that. AND then a thought occurred to me.

“A bad spirit would have to be INVITED into our home.” AJ’s eyes bulged again. “How do you do THAT?”

“Well, bad music, bad movies, even looking at bad stuff on the internet….”

“I’ve got to clear out my music!! I’ve got to get me some Christian songs!”

What a lovely idea that he came up with! All by himself. J

I have to say, parenting is kind of a trip. I actually have no idea what forms of entertainment could possibly compare to a day’s worth of THE Johnson FAM-I-Ly! (Which has its own song… well SEVERAL songs that we bust out randomly). Despite the crappy pay of zero dollars an hour, being a stay-at-home mom pretty much ROCKS!   

   

 

I am always stuck on Chicken OR Egg? What came first? Hormones or crazy children?

You know those days where everything goes just right? The kids listen when you speak. You finish cleaning your house and look around at your accomplishments and smile. You look lovingly at your children and think, what did I do to deserve such angels?

Today was NOT one of those days! I know what it is. I woke up and it was COLD. I don’t like the cold during the winter, but I especially don’t like the cold during the summer! Now Mississippi needs to decide what season it’s representing because every SINGLE time I decide to pack up our winter stuff, FREEZE! Starling put a window unit in our bedroom since he likes us to wake up with frozen snot-sicles. It was the warmest room in our house this morning. Well, besides AJ’s room where he was running a heater. With the window open. WHATEVER. The men in my life make about as much sense as expensive wrapping paper.

We managed to get to the gym an hour late. But we got there, so that’s saying SOMETHING. I obviously haven’t recuperated from my sinus infection because my normal exercise routine almost put me in the ground. I was wheezing and hacking like an asthmatic swimming in a pool of pollen. I basically crawled to the showers. Starling hurried back home, because AJ’s social worker was waiting to do her second home visit. Starling said two of our storage unit renters were in our house when AJ’s social worker showed up. Which two? Oh about the shadiest looking characters on planet earth. They aren’t, of course. They are really nice people. The dude in question has already been deported once, and is back in Hattiesburg. (Says boo-coodles about our country’s border patrol). His white girlfriend, a beauty to say the least, was just waiving around her un-lit cigarette while trying to keep her clothes up. So that’s good. Nice impression of the company we keep. WHY can’t anyone just PUT their STUPID payment in the slot that says PAYMENTS!? Why do people feel that it would be better to show up UNannounced at my HOUSE?

Of course we were all starving by lunch time. Unfortunately, Boeing has blossomed into such a fatty I can no longer nurse him while cooking. I can barely nurse him standing up PERIOD. Brooklyn and Brighton forgot that I have more than one child. It’s all about “ME- I need- I need!!!” THANK GOODNESS for AJ who just hops right in and starts taking orders like a well trained waiter. By the time I had Boeing fed, AJ already had bologna sandwiches made for the kids and their chocolate milk poured. That did WONDERS for my nerves. With his help, I was able to get family fed and kitchen cleaned in less than a third of the time it normally takes me.

But, my nerves weren’t off the hook just yet. No, Brooklyn and Brighton seemed determined to give me a nervous breakdown. Brighton wanted a banana. I gave him a banana. I asked Brooklyn if she’d like one. No. Brighton wanted another one, the last one. I gave it to him. HOLD YOUR FIRE, Brooklyn is having a conniption! She needed that banana. Brighton eats half the banana and gives it back to me. (Throwing the peeling on the freshly mopped kitchen floor). I give the half banana to the still distraught Brooklyn. THE SKY IS FALLING, Brighton needs his banana back! He wasn’t done after all! HOW about PEANUT BUTTER?? Oh yes. Peanut butter saves the day. Each kid gets a spoonful to lick on. Clean up banana peel off floor.

“MOOOOM! Bry won’t SHARE!?!” Oh. Dear. Brighton has scaled the cabinets and gotten the ENTIRE jar of peanut butter. His whole ARM is stuffed in the container all the while running madly from his sister who is desperately trying to get a jab in with her spoon.

Extract peanut butter from Brighton. Would have been easier to use a saw and remove the entire arm. Bathe screaming, flailing Brighton in sink while Brooklyn bounces like a ping pong ball at my side yelling, “But I’m not done! But I didn’t take it! But I need some more!”

Boeing starts crying. He wants to sit UP. Not kind of up. Back completely straight UP. And he wants to STAND. Too bad he is 3 months old and can’t do either on his own. AJ spends a lot of time holding Boeing upright and letting him put weight on his legs. He LOVES it. And now thinks he can demand the upright position anytime his eyes are OPEN. So AJ deals with him even though he is trying to help Starling work.

“Kitchen CLOSED! Everybody go PLAY!” But no one wants to play. Lunch and snack and drink have left two little kids completely famished. They could collapse from starvation at any minute. Heartless mother says, “GET. OUT. NOW.” I walk away from two tantrums to take Boeing.

“MOOOOOM!!!!!! Bry is TAKING that brown HORSE from me!!” I considered breaking the brown horse’s legs off and yelling, “YOU ARE NEXT!” but, I refrained. I grabbed Brighton, dropped the horse onto Brooklyn, told AJ, “Let’s go job hunting!” and ESCAPED.

AJ got some job info from town and we returned home. He started filling out a job application while I tried to unwind my nerves and be patient. Before I finished unwinding them, Brooklyn and Brighton started fighting over my phone. “Bry took your phone and didn’t ask PLEASE!!! And can I have your phone PLEASE?” To which Brighton ran over Brooklyn like a bulldozer and yelled, “Pweeze!”

“Brighton just runned all over me and jumped on my hair! And I asked first!”

“MINE! PERST!!!”

I sat blinking at record speed, wondering if the throbbing in my temples was induced from agitation or if I should take a Tylenol. I checked out my blue foot where Brooklyn dropped a can of apples. Quite a bruise.  

While Brighton was waiting on the verdict, he thought it a nice idea to dump his bag of cereal in the carpet and stomp it. The carpet I JUST vacuumed last night! I inwardly, and perhaps a little outwardly, SCREAMED. Both kids heads popped up and I sprang into action yanking my phone from sticky fingers, pointing to Barbies, kicking through cars, “CLEAN. It. ALL. UP. NOW!”

“But- but-but-“

I didn’t even have to say anything. I guess they smelled the smoke from the fire in my eyes.

“Yes ma’am!” And Brooklyn got to work. I turned to Brighton.

He grudgingly rubbed his hand across the smashed cereal. I counted to three, spanked him, and plopped him in time-out. I got him out and he picked up the cereal like he had a rabid dog snipping at his heals.

Starling and AJ left for Petal to get some four-wheelers to work on.

I got out Brooklyn’s school box so I could help her with her reading. While she sounded out every “C-A-T” word in the story I wrote her (which has like 10 ‘CAT’s that she always starts with s-s-s and I have to say WHAT does C say? For her to remember it says CU), Brighton dumped the entire box of letters, ripped open all four sets of flashcards, turned the deck of UNO cards into 60 card pick up (times 5). All in the matter of 3 minutes. IF THAT.

I don’t know if he is possessed by some creature of chaos or has no self control, but buddy as soon as he saw me looking at him, he got to picking up the mess he made with both arms. After Brooklyn read the story to me three times, which is too painful for words, I told her it was nap time. Brighton and Brooklyn actually seemed RELIEVED. And so I am going to hope a nap cures all of our issues and they will wake up happy and my nerves will have rejuvenated themselves.

I think I have answered my question “hormones or crazy children.” Hormones. Because, after reading this blog, I have to say this is a pretty normal day. And a relatively MILD day for my children.   

It's a.... MAN!!

I can’t believe I am JUST NOW getting to BLOG about this! Well. Last month I had three kids and this month I have FOUR! (And I don’t mean I got a four legged creature EITHER). I have an 18 year old son now! Due to confidentiality, I am not allowed to post pictures or use his name.  So of course I am DYING!! I thought I'd never be able to blog! BUT then I decided to get creative.  I pixilated our new son’s eyes. Unrecognizable, right? Kind of? AND I renamed him for my blog. I will call him AJ (Another Johnson)). Here is our new and improved HaPPy Johnson FAMILY!!

All I have to say is going from three to four kids was WAAAY easier than one to two or two to three. Mainly because I usually have to wait 9 months to get a kid and this time I had to wait 3 hours. And getting an 18 year old comes with perks. Already potty trained, through the terrible two’s,  through the horrid teenage years, he can cook, he can clean, etc. He’s a hard worker, too.

And I’m sure you are wondering WHAT in the WORLD is going on. So DO LET ME TELL!

Fostering children has been on my personal agenda since before I got married. And since Starling is the most awesome human being EVER, he ALSO wanted to foster care. WELL then we HAD kids. And we’ve been in gut house, rebuild house, move to next house, gut house, rebuild house, etc… limbo for.ever. And we are still in the rebuild house phase of our current home. Two weeks ago, I got a phone call from a social worker asking if I’d be willing to take an 18 year old. “Sorry, our house isn’t ready and we are only taking kids 4-8.” And I hung up. And then I told Starling about the call.

I then had a distinct recollection of one of my prayers offered up AGES ago where I was on my knees praying about fostering a child and saying, “I just don’t think I have it in me. I am so MOODY and I can’t keep it together with the two kids  I have NOW!” Following my semi- melt down, I felt a stern, “Have faith. Welcome all the children I have prepared for you.” And it was such a powerful feeling that I immediately said, “I will pray about every child and if You tell me to take him/her into my home, I will.”

Even though I was very dead set against the thought of bringing an 18 year old male into my home, the memory was so vivid, I looked at Starling and said, “I think we should pray about it.” And he felt the same way so we did. And we both felt very strongly that we should meet him. I didn’t know why God would have us want this child knowing our house was FAR from ready, but I felt that I needed to call back the DHS worker and without questioning the matter further, I did. And the very next day we met the social worker and AJ at Mugshots, ate lunch and talked, visited our house, and agreed that we would finish our second bathroom in a week so that AJ could move in. And then AJ and his worker left and Starling went straight to the bathroom and got to work. An hour later AJ’s social worker called and said that AJ had met with her supervisor, plead his case about being old enough to be around construction, and old enough to HELP Starling finish the bathroom, and that she had consented to letting him move in with us right then. So less than three hours after meeting AJ, he moved into our home.

I won’t say that I wasn’t nervous, because I was. I have not only never fostered before, but have certainly never raised a teenager! I’m 26! When AJ was born, I was turning 8. But, the one thing I know about parenting is a parent must LOVE first. So that was my first dilemma. How do you go about loving someone you JUST met a few hours earlier? It seems easier to love a baby because they are all fat and mushy and needy and how can you NOT love a baby? But an 18 year old? Wow. AJ is a man! Well, on my knees again (been spending a lot of time on them) I remembered a previous prayer when I was asking the same question. “How can I ever love a foster child as much as my children?” It seems utterly inconceivable. And the answer came quite simply. “You didn’t think you could love Brighton as much as Brooklyn. You will love the child like your own. Have faith.” I figured it would just take a while and EVENTUALLY I would learn to love AJ like my own.

Well, God works fast when He wants to, I suppose. I don’t know if it’s all the praying, all the heart to hearts, or just a darn miracle, but our family bonded and fell in love with AJ by day 3. I felt it plain as a stomach ache. We read scriptures together as a family, said our family prayers, put the 3 little ones to bed, and AJ, Starling, and I stayed up to chat. We had a heart to heart about some things. And when I walked into my room to climb into bed, I said, “Wow. That didn’t take long. I can’t believe I already love him.”

The heart is DEFINITELY a muscle. When exercised, it gets BIGGER and STRONGER and craves more exercise. My hearts done got the elephantitis! I feel so great having AJ in our home, I want to save the world and all the kids in it. I’ve started finding joy in interacting with kids I found barely tolerable a month ago. I can’t believe how much stronger our family has become in the last two weeks. I think everyone should pray about foster caring a child. Who knows what little miracles await!

 

Busy Beeeees....

So this is what we did today. Woke up. LATE. Therefore getting to the gym.  LATE. Which led to me wearing my hair in a nappy fuzz ball instead of styling it and looking even half decent. Which always makes me feel gross and not well kept. And since that’s how I usually look- it’s an ongoing problem that is killing my morale. DEAD. And ALL I WANTED to do today was finish PAINTING Brighton’s room and the playroom. THAT’S ALL I had on my agenda. BUT then I had to deal with the storage units that we run as soon as I got home and have a “Let ME do it or YOU do it!!!” rif-raf with my darling husband that makes friends with every person he rents a unit to, and then feels some moral obligation to be NICE when they don’t PAY on time. (I obviously don’t have that problem. WHICH is why “I’M” supposed to be running it).

AND Starling had gobs of things on HIS list of things to do like WORK, which always frustrates me even though I do realize if he doesn’t WORK we won’t have money to EAT. So I bit my tongue and tried to NOT look disappointed that Starling’s deepest desires weren’t to have the house painted first thing today.

BUT THEN, the day livened up EVEN MORE. We found a bee hive behind our barn on Friday. HUGE massive amount of bees. Can you say, “My Girl?” There are TWO hives- both in Brighton’s favorite playing areas. So they have to go. Our friend Darren is a self-made Bee Man. So he showed up today to remove the bees. AND Starling suited up, too, so that they could box the bees. Darren made a box, a vacuum system to suck the bees into the box, a smoker, etc. and they hopped to it.  Well. There were more bees than they realized. By about a million or more.  And when Starling chain sawed into the column they were habituating, they were none too thrilled. At least fifty little honey bees committed suicide against Starling’s white bee suit. Bless them. They were just stuck to him by their stinger. And I thumped them off and they were dead. I’m allergic to bees so I made sure not to get stung while I was all up in the mix taking pictures with no suit and with my children. (HOME SCHOOL 101- NEVER miss a learning opportunity)!

At The Johnson Academy of Educational Excellence, we have no government regulation on our methods of teaching so we favor adventure and hands on experience over safety. I drug my kids out and made them watch Bee Extraction. I think mostly they learned, “STOP! Come back over HERE! STAY THERE! BEES will Kill you DEAD!” But they will have nice pictures to review the bee extraction process if ever they need that information. Like if we are lost in the woods about to starve to death and we HAPPEN to find a bee hive full of honey to survive on. (AND we HAPPEN to have BEE suits). Better than sticking them in front of the t.v. all day. Maybe not safer. BUT better.

Then 4:30 rolled around and the boys were STILL dealing with bees and sending me on errands to find more containers… lots and lots of honey cones. I had to take Brooklyn to dance at five. I fed her, dressed her, put her in the van and wouldn’t you know… my keys were in the ignition already turned for me. THANK YOU BRIGHTON! Unfortunately he had turned them WAAAY earlier and RUN my NEW battery down. AGAIN. (Yeah. He’s not even two yet).

This is a good time to tell you about me and my ability to deal with bumps in the road. I consider myself a relatively calm person so long as everything around me goes EXACTLY as planned. Any minute (pronounced my-nute) dissonance between game plan and reality? I’m not so calm. I go from calm to panic frenzy psycho crazy person in fractions of a second. So one minute I am on time for dance and I’m at peace with my life. Van won’t start? I’m Cruella De-Vil and the world is against me.

“BROOKLYN GET IN DADDY’s VAN!!!” ‘Still plenty of time to get to dance’. Trying to take deep breaths and calm myself down. ‘The worst thing that could happen is I might get Brookie there late. What are they going to do? Kick her out? And loose $58 bucks a month? Yeah. I’m highly doubting that. All I have to do is get Starling’s keys. We will be on our way. No big deal. Where are the keys? WHERE ARE THE KEYS!!!??? ‘

“STARLING!!! I can’t find your keys anywhere in the van or the house! I can’t find the SPARE!! Why are your keys LOOOOST???”

Starling, covered in bees, waddled to the house to help me look only to remember he had them on his way to leave when Darren arrived to save us from the bees. So they must be SOMEWHERE at the BARN. In other words? We will NEVER see his keys EVER AGAIN.  ‘We’ll NEVER get there! I could take a four-wheeler! Is that legal? WAIT! Stroke of genius.’

“WE HAVE TO JUMP ME OFF!!! Oh my CRAP we CAN’T because we can’t CRANK your van to put it by MY van to JUMP ME!!! It’s HOPEPLESS!!”

Starling, still covered with crawling bees, hands covered in honey, calm as a corpse, says, “Use Darren’s car.”

‘Great idea!’ I drove it to my van. ’Crap. Do I even know HOW to jump off a car? I’m sure it can’t be hard. I’ve watched Starling do it a hundred times.’ I popped the hoods and grabbed the cables. ‘Correction. I have sent Starling to jump off my van a hundred times. I have never WATCHED what he did. DANG IT! Why can’t I pay attention to ANYTHING!?  I just have to stick those clamps somewhere in the engine.’

“STARLING!!! WHERE do I STICK IT? Does it matter what color I stick first??”

‘This is taking TOO LONG! This is ridiculous! I’m going to beat Brighton for running down my battery and whack Starling for losing his keys at the barn and bang my head against the wall for not ANTICIPATING this situation and for not preparing to leave an hour in advance and double checking to make sure my car will crank’! (I know that is a GINORMOUS run-on sentence. When I’m having a nervous breakdown, I tend to think in run-on sentences).

“MOMMY I don’t WANNNA GO!” whines Brooklyn who was sulking BESIDE me and NOT buckled in the seat belt.

‘ERK!! She better WANT to go!! Does she think “I” want to drop everything I’m doing and TAKE her? She better appreciate the financial and time sacrifice we are making for HER to learn how to stretch her leg and tap in a circle! And she better get buckled before my head starts spinning and smoke starts seeping out my ears’. I got the van jumped off. I dashed inside to retrieve Boeing. He was happily cooing in a puddle of spit up. PANIC!! The mother in me screams ‘BATHE your BABY!’ The other mother, perhaps Mother B, screams, ‘LEAVE the kid and GET GONE!!” I listen to the latter.

“I’ll bathe you when I get back. Sorry!!” And off we went. Brighton was still crashed out on my bed taking an entirely too late nap. Amazingly I got Brooklyn to dance right as the dance teacher was closing the door. As Brooklyn would say, “Woo Hoo!” I rushed home, bathed Boeing, did a few other things and looked at the clock.

‘I’m LATE! Seriously? Did I learn nothing from 30 minutes ago?! I stress my OWN self out because I forget to remember to pay attention!’ I couldn’t find a check book anywhere to pay my soul to the dance people and this month they are requiring an additional $50 recital fee. SOUND OFF!! “You get paid $58 a month. NOW we have to PAY for our kid to be in the RECITAL? Well. Since we all have cash trees in our back yard. Solely for dance, here is $108 bucks. Did I mention I won’t be putting Brooklyn in dance next year?” (Actually, I might let her do dance at my friend’s church which only charges $25/month and no recital fee. And NO $150 for costumes. She is THREE! I didn’t pay that much for my PROM dress! Her “tumbling” class has taught her to roll over. NOT all that impressed. She taught Brighton everything she’s learned in 10 min. And he’s as good at turning flips as she is).

I was walking out the door when Brighton woke up and chased me down. So I grabbed him, stuffed him in the van, and left Boeing sleeping on my bed. Brooklyn was the last kid there, covered in a sticky sucker. I painfully handed over my cash, grabbed Brooklyn and stuffed her in the van next to Brighton. Brighton went hysterical. “LAY-LA!” Well, we usually pick up Brookie’s friend Layla from dance but she was in Picayune with her family so she wasn’t there. Apparently that devastated Brighton. He cried for her all the way home. AND he threw himself onto the ground when we got home and kept yelling, “Wan Lay-la! Marx! Howse!” I stepped over him and went inside where a lady sat holding Boeing. I tried talking to her and it became immediately obvious that she didn’t speak English. She had her daughter with her so I tried to ask her what her name was in Spanish. But I asked, “How are you? Or what’s up?” Heck I don’t know what I said. She started talking. I couldn’t understand anything she was saying and thought, ‘Wow… that’s a long name.”

Starling was in the kitchen with the husband talking honey. He had removed his bee get-up and Darren had left, but now instead of bees, he was covered in honey. Honey combs covered all available counter space. Awesome. I tasted some of the honey. Delicious. Tastes exactly like it does from Wal Mart. I would never go through that much work when I can buy it for $2 and it lasts until my great grand kids die, but I’m really glad that Starling and Darren got a chance to do it. It’s pretty cool to watch. Starling only got stung twice. I find honey ironic. People will throw out food if they see a fly land on it. YET, eat honey that is PUKED up from a bumble bug. Are flies and bees so different? Flies eat poop and bees eat pollen. I guess that’s the difference.

So Starling told the guy what we have left to sheet rock in the kitchen while the guy told him what house he wants Starling to find him. So they looked at houses on the MLS for an eternity while I tried to speak Spanish to his wife, failing miserably. And when THEY finished up, Starling left to go get some work done. At 7:30. On the bright side, he took Brighton with him. And I’m going to make us dinner. Mac n cheese. THEN I’M going to go finish painting at least ONE room! And tonight I’m praying that tomorrow is normal. And I finally got a picture of all three of my kids.