We are having an at-home-family-day. Tomorrow rehearsals start again after a couple days off, all next week is dress rehearsals and then the performances start. It goes like this through the 18th of December, so we really need a do-nothing day.
I plan on laundry and dishes - those are constant - and getting ready for the work week. But other than that, we're spending most of the day with the girls watching Charmed (until dusk, when it's too close to bedtime for Lizzy), playing games, etc.
And me, going through old blog posts (been blogging here since January of 2011) and playing Nostalgic Fun Time, some of which I'm sharing with you again.
Like then-nearly-five-year-old Abby, wondering why she can't have two dads and a birth mom like her friend M, or asking me to either turn up the TV or put my breast back in the baby's mouth.
Or then-six-year-old Leanna, explaining apologetically that she can't come over the day I bring the baby home, or that she's not actually jumping on the (loft) bed, because her feet aren't leaving the surface.
This picture: Lizzy looks appalled. Leanna looks so happy.
Leanna telling Abby's dad that he doesn't get as cold as she does because he has hairy arms.
This entire post.
Eight-year-old Abby's obsession with the Teen Titans cartoon. Which caused her teacher to remind me that Comic Books Really Are Okay If They Get Her To Read. And a reader is born.
How Lizzy has been functionally an almost-vegetarian since toddlerhood.
That we have had over the years several serious conversations regarding which Christmas special is the best (excluding feature-length things like Nightmare Before Christmas, which we all agree is awesome).
How music - pop, rock, country, classical, show tunes, you name it - can be used to describe almost everything in our family. The way other people use pop culture movies quotes, we use lines from music. And always have.
I have realized afresh that although I'm really having trouble switching gears during this depression/grief thing I have going, I've never been particularly good at it. I'm like my dad; I'm better at "planned spontaneity," the tendency to say we have to go to the next thing as soon as X task ends, or that we can do whatever we like between four and six PM.
That both Abby and Lizzy are really good at using literary references for day-to-day activities and have been for years. This may be hereditary.
Lizzy's loose grasp on the concept of cause-and-effect has improved with her knowledge of scientific practices; for a while there she thought - for example - that the sun moved in the sky so it would "hit all the flowahs to help them gwow."
Mondegreens and malapropisms have been around in our family forever. With their enormous spoken vocabularies, this is more often hilarious than not.
The utter charming hilarity of then-four-year-old Lizzy explaining earnestly that she has "salivawy duhmatitis."
My language has deteriorated, in my blog and in real life, since Laston first got ill. In early blog posts I was very circumspect about bad language, but now I know there are bigger issues than whether I drop an F-bomb where people can read or hear it. To the point where Lizzy - even though she finds bad language hilarious - asked me to "put the filter back on before the girl scout meeting. We don't know how all the scout moms in the new troop are about bad words." Abby's dad would likely tell her that I've sworn like a sailor the whole time, but there have been whole years where I have not.
Thor is still really hot.
My friend and (again) neighbor Carrie has been the best baker I know for years now.
No matter how long we've been taking the tests, Abby is still a Hufflepuff.
I'm a kickass student as an adult.
Introverted and shy are not the same.
Everyone has been, well, lovely. I only looked at the first few years of my blog posts, in fairly desultory fashion, and yet all your kindness shone through even before Laston's illness and death.
I love you, Dear Readers.