Scenes From Single Parenthood

Hey y'all - 

Occasionally, I remember that I have a phone, and that I've taken some pictures on it. Here are some iPhone highlights from the past few weeks. 

Laney has written her name - in Sharpie - all over the house. In general, I don't get too bent out of shape about it, because it's her house, too. I called Thor to explain:

Brooke: ...and I couldn't even be mad because she teared up and said she was really sorry that she had used a 'primitive' marker.

Thor: What's a primitive marker? Like a charred stick?

Brooke: You wish.

In related art news, Laney asked if she would paint my face. When she was done, I asked her what she had drawn. "A snowman holding a kite that fell on the ground...obviously." "Ok," I said, "Then what is that on YOUR face?" "An invitation to my birthday party and you can only come to my party if you have this symbol on your face." So Laney's party's been cancelled for this year. 

Hagen's into wearing this jungle safari hat. Puts it on in the morning, leaves it on 'til bedtime. Resists all suggestions to take it off. Eh, it's less irritating than writing on the walls with a Sharpie, so he gets a pass.

Laney fell asleep in the hot tub last week. Talk about your first world problems. One minute, she was chattering away, and the next - silence. There was no waking her up. I had to lift her and her turtle out together as a unit.

Before he left, her dad promised to pay Laney a penny for every dandelion she picked while he was gone. With the money she made, she could almost buy a pack of gum. 

I made some questionable food choices for the family while your dad was gone. We had chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner, and once I completely hit rock bottom and took you all to McDonald's. You guys weren't complaining, especially when we decided to stop at the barbecue place on the way home from school, and then lie on the couch and watch a Doc McStuffins marathon.

Your dad would occasionally send us messages and photos from his time in Ft Walton Beach, but I told him he wasn't eliciting any sympathy from me if he kept writing his "I Miss You"s in the sand. On the beach. Next to the ocean. In the sun. He should have gone for more of a sad-face-in-ugly-conference-room vibe.

One more note about Laney's art: sometimes, she'll draw something like that picture above that looks like a meaningless scribble, then she'll hand it to you and say, "This is a ski boot attached to a ski and the orange is my ski pants coming down to my boot." And then suddenly, that's exactly what it looks like. I don't know if she sets out to draw something like that, or if she scribbles around for a while and then makes up the most plausible scenario. I would almost be more proud if it was Option #2.

We went to the Children's Museum, where Hagen promoted himself to Fire Marshal.

I must say, if I were going to be single parenting any two kids in the world, I couldn't ask for better ones than you guys. You were (mostly) sweet and (almost always) cooperative and (relatively) patient with me as I made the best of an exhausting situation. 

Thanks for soldiering through it with me. 

Love,

Mom