We had fun weekend celebrating Earth Day. It was just me, Miss B and the two little boys because Mr. C and Dad were gone on an epic fishing expedition for the weekend. On Saturday we made a banner out of sticks, rocks, leaves and cereal boxes. We painted rocks to look like the Earth. We made notebooks out of recycled cardboard and snack containers out of recycled milk jugs. The fabulous thing about Earth Day is that you don't need to spend any money. You just use what you have on hand. Recycle it baby.
On Sunday morning, we ate breakfast and admired our handiwork from the day before and discussed ways to take care of our Earth. We talked about throwing away trash, recycling, reusing things, etc.
The boys ate their pancakes without shirts as to avoid syrupy shirts. It's easier that way. And then they were just crazy.
And then we went to church where everything fell apart. It started out good. We were on time (early even). We were in a pew. We were prepared. Then Q started being loud and crazy. Any time I tried to stop him, he would get louder and crazier. Finally towards the end, I took him out kicking and screaming (literally). He then proceeded to to be a nut job in the halls, pulling me this way and that, crying, sobbing, yelling, trying to run away, telling me I was mean and dropping to the ground so that all his weight pulled on my arm that was holding him, causing me to tip over in my high heels and lose my balance. I was close to tears and had many talks with him in empty classrooms ranging from stern to guilt-laden to pleading and back to stern. Literally as the meeting was ending, he dried his eyes, apologized and said he would be nice now. With a deep breath, I walked back into the chapel to collect Miss B and Dennis and help them all to their respective classes and me to mine as I was substituting for Q's class. On my way in, a frantic Dennis with wide eyes, informed me that Miss B had a bloody nose. Concerned, I rushed to our pew to find Miss B frantically trying to keep calm and clean. She looked at me with a "I didn't know what to do" look on her face and I grab paper towels and wipes and help her get cleaned up. Luckily I had a roll of paper towels for the class I was teaching because I usually do not come to church equipped with a roll of paper towels. Amazingly not one drop got on her white cardigan, the carpet, or the bench. After we cleaned up, I sent her to class and went to sit with my group of three-year olds.