There is a bunny that lives beside our house. Well, I don’t actually know where she lives, but she spends parts of the winter crouched up against our neighbour’s house in an area that we think must vent warm air from inside, based on how the snow is always meltier in that area than elsewhere. I can’t tell if she is tame or wild, but she looks to me like she might have been somebody’s pet, which is a moot point because she won’t let me get anywhere near her so it’s not like I could rescue her if she did indeed require rescuing. Anyway, she disappears for quite a while every winter, and every spring when she reappears I am quite relieved she survived the winter. I named her Carol. I am sure she is even more relieved than I am that she made it to spring again this year.
I was reading a book last weekend called “The Husband’s Secret” (great book, highly recommended — I’ve been binge reading this author’s books all week and they are so entertaining and clever I just can’t stop) and after the wife discovered the husband’s secret, which was a truly terrible, horrifying, SHOCKING secret, they stayed up all night talking about it, working through why he did what he did and why he was so desperate to keep it a secret and what they were going to do next. The whole time I was reading this section, I keept thinking to myself, “Wow, they are going to be SO tired in the morning.” The other night I had a dream that I met Ruth Bader Ginsberg and then she texted me a book recommendation and everyone I knew was so jealous I was BFFs with such an awesome, powerful woman. The next night I dreamed I was lost in the woods — I had a map, but the area I was in was mysteriously not even ON the map. The following night there were guns. Long story short, if Mike wants to tell me a horrifying secret, now would probably be a good time, because I don’t think I would be interested in staying up all night to hash things out.
You may remember I was fretting the other week about how to divide my attention between the kids, when it feels like I spend so much time taking care of basic crowd control with Zach and Ellie is so content to entertain herself that I feel like she gets the short end of the stick. (For example: Tuesday morning, I had to change his clothes right before we left the house because he had soaked his sleeves playing in the toilet. When we went to leave our Tuesday morning activity, it took me at least five minutes just to get his coat on, because he kept running away from me. After his nap, he disappeared for a minute and I found him playing in the cat litter. While I was on the phone with my mom complaining about how frustrating the day had been, he dumped a basket full of vitamins on the floor. I’m sure there was more, because that sounds like a very incomplete list, but you get the idea. He is so cheerful! So happy! So cute! So stinkery.) Gymnastics on Wednesday mornings is a perfect example of when I wish there were two of me — I spend the whole hour chasing him around, usually out in the lobby area, and never get to see Ellie actually do any of her gymnastics. Yesterday she told me proudly on the way there that she was going to be brave and go upside down on the bars, and I tried to keep an eye out for when they were going to do that so I could watch, but Zach was emptying out the lost and found baskets and I missed that whole rotation. (Thankfully I have another chance because this week they didn’t do the upside-down part that Ellie is normally afraid of.)
I decided today that I am going to send Zach to the sitter’s on every other Wednesday until Ellie is done the spring session of gymnastics. I can watch her, and then we can spend a few hours in the afternoon working on stuff like her letters and numbers. I keep reminding myself that fair doesn’t necessarily mean equal, and the way the spacing worked out, they each get two years with just me, and two years where they have to share me, so I guess it is mostly equal even if it doesn’t feel that way.
This song (One Direction singing a song about the letter U on Sesame Street) is the current hotness in our house. Zach is obsessed, which means I spend a lot of time wandering around the house singing, “U for utensils in Grover’s hands / U is for uncles but not for aunts / U there are U’s on these underpants / letter U-U-U, that’s what makes you so useful!” I think I am developing a slight crush on One Direction. It is embarrassing. Also, Ellie has said to me several times, “I like the boy with the floppy hair, Mommy. The one with the red and grey shirt. He’s my favourite.” So I guess the boy band thing starts early.