Today

Today...
...we moved our dishes cupboard back up from the basement.
...we moved our dishes back up from the basement.
...we put curtains back up.
...our house is starting to look more like our house again.

Tonight...
...Laura is sleeping in Laura's bed.
...Evan is sleeping in Kendra's bed.
...Kendra is sleeping on Evan's kindergarten "nap mat" on the floor.

Tomorrow...
...I will lament the fact that Chad goes back to the office on Monday and we didn't get more done.

Tomorrow night...
...Evan is sleeping in Evan's bed.
...Laura is sleeping in Kendra's bed.
...Kendra is sleeping in Laura's bed.

Monday...
...life and sleeping arrangements return to "normal", or as much "normal" as we have lately.

Washable hardwood prayer

Today was our first day back upstairs on the newly refinished floors. It's loud. Like really loud. But we also don't have all of our furniture back in, so maybe that makes a little bit of difference. The kids seemed to enjoy being back "home", and I made sure to make the new floors fun today (since they hadn't been real sold on the idea of getting rid of all the carpet) by doing things like putting puzzles together on the floor since they'll stay together unlike what they did on the carpet. We also all (the kids and I, not Chad) laid on the floor and colored in coloring books. Oh, and all 3 kids did better at swimming lessons today, which is completely unrelated to the floors, but it was a good day.

Tonight as I was tucking Laura in, she asked me, "will you clean up coloring stuff before you go bed?" I had noticed the crayons were all over the floor when I got home from my meeting before putting her to bed, so I assured her I would clean up the coloring mess before I went to bed. Little did I know that she wasn't being conscientious and mindful of the crayons on the floor, but rather it was a confession.

Tonight, I have told God thank you for the man (or, more likely, the mom) who invented washable crayons. They wiped off of our hardwood floors with a damp rag slicker than a whistle. Or they did this time anyway.

Death throws

I believe you can be in the throes of death. But, in our house, it's the throws of death. Because every little (where "little" is a relative term) bang/boom/crash the kids make in a previously-completely-carpeted-with-really-thick-carpet-but-now-carpetfree-and-very-loud house sounds like there should be serious crying afterwards.

Still alive

We're still alive. Lots to blog about. Just no time right now. Maybe someday I'll try to catch up. Maybe.