Keep it moving.

Last night was brutal.

There was about three hours of actual sleep. There was more than four hours of glaring at the stupid clock.

Today I had to stay on my feet at all times or all would be lost. And by all, I mean seven perfectly good hours of daylight.

When I am this tired, naps tend to steal my day.

I did everything this morning. I mean, everything. Floors, laundry, cooking, sorting, organizing...

T came home after a few hours of work and we talked while Baby I ran around giggling. My morning had been filled with visits from her in-laws, who I'm beginning to refer to in my head as my in-laws.

We talked about things we needed around the house and things to be done and somewhere in the conversation we eased up on the work stuff and just chatted. I did learn that she is very happy with the way things are going. She told me she thinks I'd make a good teacher in fifteen years when she would be ready for me to leave her. She made my day.

I mean, I'm pretty sure I won't be here for fifteen years...but it was nice to hear anyway.

By mid-afternoon I was losing the battle with my eyelids. They just kept closing.

T made dinner and I tried to converse with R, but I have no idea what she was saying. I half-heartedly tried to feed the baby and then I just gave up.

I watered the garden to kill some time and while I was out there I was thinking that four years ago when I was this tired it was for a completely different reason. I sometimes can't believe that I made it out of my "college" years alive.

What's more, I can't believe it's been this many years!

It feels like just yesterday I was gallavanting around Atown with my little clique, not at all concerned about how many hours of sleep I got or what I would feel like in the morning.

And here I am, practically an adult, counting precious minutes of sleep every night.

And I have been counting down the hours until bedtime tonight. I was washing dinner dishes as they were being used, determined to crash the second the kids fell asleep.

So OF COURSE the baby wouldn't stop crying and OF COURSE E and T had to go out tonight. OF COURSE.

The trick is to not sit down until you don't have to get back up again. So I held the baby and paced his room until he finally passed out.

And then I ran.

And now I'm sitting. And I guarantee you, in less than an hour, I will be snoring.

Relationshipping.

R started day camp today.

With both kids gone again, I breezed through all the chores I wanted to do today and then some. The house is cleeeeeeeeeeean. And I am haaaaaaaaaaaappy.

Baby I and I read four books and he talked and sang with me. His elocution lessons are going splendidly.

T stopped home this afternoon to tell me to stop working (since it's technically my day off) and relax. She encourages napping on hot days. Unfortunately, I am too afraid to fall asleep and not wake up for three hours, so I used my two-and-a-half hour lunch break to text and watch Bridezillas, the greatest show on earth. I also watched an hour of Supernanny, and the brats on that show really put my life into perspective.

At least I don't have to chase my kids through the neighborhood apologizing to neighbors for them storming into random houses and punching pregnant women in the stomach.

T picked J up from camp and we took the two boys outside to play this afternoon. I spread out my outside blanket and Willie Nelson cozied right up with me to sunbathe.

When we were all good and sweaty I packed up J and took him to the pool.

Spending time one-on-one with the kids has been amazing. T encourages it and has since the first time we talked about how badly the kids were behaving for me.

J is sweet when not under the influence of his sister and he often comes to me to be held or kisses me or tells me he loves me.

At the pool today he sang to me and we swam together and he was downright adorable. The plastic moms seated around the pool kept "awwwwwing" at us. These women are always amazed when we show up, and I'm all glammed up in keeping with the unspoken Bayside pool dress code and then I jump into the pool anyway. They're all so afraid to get their hair wet.

For me, it's not a day at the pool until my hair is matted to my head and I'm all itchy from chlorine exposure.

On the way home we sang until he dozed off mid-verse. Old MacDonald had a...moo moo here...moo moo...here...

And then I called his name and he went, "WHAT?" all annoyed like and then he was gone.

I woke him up by putting him in the tub and he was wide awake when I left for my night off.

I went up the street to my new favorite pizza place and my favorite since two weeks ago coffee shop. I think it's actually a frozen yogurt place but they have coffee and it's magically delicious, and I don't care if that's copyright infringement. IT'S TRUE.

I also bought deoderant, even though I vowed not spend any money on toiletries in this state. I am running desperately low on a few things that I forgot to stock up on before I left PA and since I was supposed to be going away this weekend, but forgot about it and am no longer going, not shopping here was not an option.

I hope you enjoyed that run-on.

I made some phone calls to some siblings and friends. I think I have been in better communication since moving here than I have ever been before.

Being away from my family and living in a completely different social class has really made me value the people in my life.

I mostly miss all my kids, but that's always the case.

And I make it worse by moving and taking on new families and then moving again. I thought my move home was going to be pretty permanent (to Stroudsburg) and it almost was. And then I was sure my last move (to Camp Hill) was really it. I was close to Sister Steph and I liked that area and that was going to be where I set up shop.

And now I'm here...

And I like it.

And I'm learning to put genuine effort into showing the people in my life that I'm interested in them and their lives. And I am interested.

I'm still a little weirded out by the fact that I'm SO disconnected from most of the people I know, BUT I'm meeting new people, I'm falling for new kids and I'm happy to do it.

And while I grow into this new, strangely sophisticated person, I am going to make sure that all my child-like tendencies and unclassy behaviors stick with me.

And speaking of, I'd like to mention here my compulsion to check out every landscaper, gardener and delivery man I see in the neighborhood.

I may have watched too much Desperate Housewives in the past.

Most of the workmen I've seen in the area are considerably older than me, but in my head, I am holding out for at least a few fancy dinners with one really cute gardener or a spiffy water delivery guy.

I mean, I've lived in Long Island for almost a month now. Shouldn't my life be like a TV show?

More insomnia, bad driving and a little princess.

I'm not really sure where today went.

I woke up several times in the night, not at all sure what time it was. When it was time to get up for real it felt like I had only been in bed for a few minutes. This is the worst way to wake up. Ever.

And I grew up with my mom singing and taking my covers.

So, there was this morning, when J had his first day of summer day camp. And breakfast and cleaning and hanging out with R...

We went through her wardrobe and she asked me what size each article of clothing was. If it wasn't a 4 like her, she didn't want it.

T put baby down for a nap. He didn't sleep.

He's ready for a later nap, I think. And he's having trouble staying asleep when we put him into the crib after holding him. This is not my first experience with families that rock their babies to sleep well past the typical American standard, and I like it. I like snuggling a baby to sleep. And I think it is good for the babies. But clearly this stage of unrest is the natural signal that baby is ready to move on.

Unfortunately, T isn't.

R and I baked cookies together and had lunch while T worked on tiring Baby I out.

More time passed and I have no idea how. All I know is that today felt sooooooo long and now suddenly it's over already.

J came from day camp and then I took the baby for a walk.

We got off to a good start by almost being run over by a Beamer with an MD license plate. In my panic at the sight of reverse lights gunning for me, I ran out of the way. In hindsight, I now know that I should have shoved the baby stroller out of the way and taken the hit. Long Island MD!!! The lawsuit would file itself.

Oh well.

I turned down a road that I was pretty sure we had gone down before. I knew it would lead down a steep hill and as I have been torturing myself by going down hills, knowing I would have to come up another one somewhere, I headed down.

At the bottom, I quickly learned that we had no been down that road before. It was a dead end. BUT the dead end was at the top of a hill. So we went all the way up it before we had no where else to go.

On the way home I got ambitious and we zig-zagged through the neighborhood. My energy was derived directly from my ability to text while out of the house.

When I did finally go home R was standing in the doorway crying.

As I had gone out the door, T had gone out to the yard to garden. An hour later, it seemed she was still outside and the two kids inside had no idea.

R had come down from her room where she and J had been playing to tattle on him for something and she couldn't find her mother. I told her T was outside and she ran to do her snitching.

I went to set the baby in the playroom and heard R's plastic dress up shoes clunking down the stairs.

J came to me in the kitchen and said, "I have high heels! I have flip flops!" And on his feet were silver and pink shoes.

"Wow. That's nice."

"They're just like yours!" He told me.

"Well, they're a little different." I was wearing brown flip flops.

"Yeah!" He smiled. "Mine are pink!" He twirled. "I'm a princess!"

I miss my little Sully.

Narcoleptic insomniac.

Insomnia is killing me.

E and T didn't get in until VERY late last night, so I knew I could count on them sleeping in a bit. Naturally, I did too. And then I got up and got breakfast ready and then slept until an hour later when children actually started coming down the stairs.

I napped while putting the baby down for his nap.

And then an hour later a delivery man rang the bell and the dog barked and the usual mayhem that comes with the bell ringing ensued, and to make a long story short, the baby woke up.

T and the kids were still home at that point, so she took care of the door and I took the crying baby.

Shortly after the kids left with T and I fed the baby lunch and tried to coax him into napping while I did on the day bed in the playroom. It didn't work.

While I dozed off every five minutes for about a minute each time, he learned how to completely screw up the TV, climb onto the chairs and jump up and down and open the memory game and throw it all over the floor.

This baby is gifted.

I could not keep my eyes open.

I fed him again; I guess I was hoping that if I could get him to eat enough he would go into a food coma, but it just seemed to give him more energy. I had done my morning cleaning and a few loads of laundry and I really, really, really just wanted to sleep. I had counted on his nap. I was ruined.

The day just kept going despite my problems.

T and the kids got home, kids sleeping. T went back out. I fed the baby dinner. The kids woke up and, honestly I don't know what we did to kill time. They were talking and I was yessing and the baby was showing off the other things he learned today.

Like leaning over the side of his high chair and throwing food directly into the dog's mouth.

And then the dog threw up.

And I just wanted to cry.

I kept myself awake by compuslively cleaning the countertops.

T got home again and I was off the hook for a while. The problem then was that it was after 6 and napping would no longer be to my benefit. I had to do something to keep myself occupied.

I hung out with the kids. T's mom dropped by and talking to her helped.

T spotted a little kitty on the side porch. It's black and white, the exact kind of kitty that I love the most, and it came right up to the door and sat down. She didn't want the kids opening the door because she was afraid it would bite, but it looked pretty tame to me. I fully intend to befriend it.

The older two kids got bored of him and left, but Baby I kept beating on the storm door and talking to him. He batted his little kitty eyes and just watched. And then Baby I showed me yet another new trick. He reached right up and pulled the handle and opened the door. The kitty ran and I woke up a little bit.

Did the 15-month old just open a door?

In answer to my question he started to step outside, paused, looked at me, waved his chubby little hand and said, "bye!"

When E got home the family had dinner together and I snuck off to my room to lay in bed and remind myself how much I love it there. I played internet Jeopardy with my eyes closed. I lost.

I think the only reason I didn't fall asleep was that I could hear the conversation in the kitchen above me and the baby's blood-curdling screeches were enough to keep me alert.

When it sounded like they were done eating, and I could hear T's elephant shoes tramping up the stairs I headed up to hang out with the kids. It was the only way I was going to make it.

I read four books with R and got them both ready for bed.

And of course, my second wind kicked in.

All is lost.

Everyone has gone to their seperate corners of the house for the evening and even though I have been a hair away from hibernation-style sleep all day, now that I can sleep, I am wired.

Tetris, anyone?

Sunday is funday.

I GOT TO GO TO MORNING SERVICE!!!

It's funny how the things that made me want to cry as a kid, like getting up for morning service, make me so happy now. I had to get up at eight after wrestling with insomnia all night, and I didn't even care.

Ok, I cared a little.

But I was so excited. And nervous. Don't forget nervous.

I left the house 40 minutes early to avoid missing my bus. It's a direct effect of growing up in my always-late household. When I first moved to Allentown I was at least an hour early for just about everything. It wears off with time.

But until I get used to taking buses and trains, I will be spending large amounts of time standing at stations and wondering why I felt the need to leave the house in such a hurry.

I waited on the wrong side of the station until I thought, I better ask someone. I did and then ran over to the other side. I sat at the first bus stop I saw. The woman seated at the other end of the bench looked me over, hugged her bags and then laid down. She muttered something and then eyed me again.

I pretended to be deaf.

She sat up, looked me up and down with disgust. Stood up. Glared some more. Wrapped her arms tighter around her canvas parcel. Walked down the street.

A kindly looking woman came and sat on my other side.

Lady Number One came back and asked me for a dollar. I was able to answer honestly when I said I had no cash. My wallet was safe at home. I had a metro card and a bag full of wardrobe changes. Which strangely enough, she didn't appear to need.

I saw her on my bus later. She had at least $2.50.

I waited nervously for a while before gathering the courage to ask the driver to tell me when we were at my stop. Fortunately, he was nice and he obliged. I've heard some drivers will just grunt at you and not help at all.

I met a girl in the lobby of the church who directed me to the bathroom to finish putting my face on. And then I talked with her through the rest of Sunday School, which my bus arrives halfway through.

I was so happy to hear a sermon, to hear people talking about Christ. I think that's the hardest part of living with this family. Not that taking the Lord's name in vain is ever ok, but I am so used to at least hearing it that way. Here, nothing. Not one reference to Jesus. Ever.

I'm pacing myself so as to not get fired but one of these days the parents are going to come home to find their children singing Jesus Loves Me...

KIDDING.

I mean, I'll teach the parents first.

I chatted a bit after the service, met a few people and got an escort to the bus stop outside the church. I made the trek home, which honestly doesn't even feel like the two miles it is.

For some reason I asked the kids if they wanted to go to the park. And then for some reason I took them.

We had a good time. I love the looks the parents give me when they see me pop out of the tunnel slide or chasing my kids (or their kids) around the playground. How did rich people get so boring? These people have the means to pay everyone else to do their work. They should be able to play with their kids.

Anyway,

We went home after an hour and E and T had to leave for a wedding.

And then, for ANOTHER some reason, I told the kids we would make what I like to call Squishy Balls for dinner.

I take veggies and sautee them and chop them up. Then I take leftover rice, which is the bane of my existence, and the kids get to pull up a chair and mash veggies and rice into balls which I then fry, because what's the point of eating something that's not fried?

R had a blast. She ate and mashed and mashed and ate. She ate an entire ear of corn on the cob in addition to her aspargus-carrot-rice balls.

J ate nothing. He's actually making up for it now with some leftover Challah bread.

R is gloating with her dessert.

Baby I fell asleep in his chair because he had no nap today. I don't know how this family functioned before I was here, because that poor kid's schedule gets wrecked when I'm not here.

I woke him up for a bath and then put him to bed an hour early.

After the big kids got their bath and I vacuumed up the rice explosion in the kitchen the kids proceeded to push me into using my angry voice, not once, not twice but FOUR times. I had to YELL. I had to threaten. I had to take the marker out of R's hand and tell her to go to bed.

She's got the idea that if she tells J to do the naughty things instead of doing them herself that she's safe from trouble. Boy, is she mistaken. Last night she pushed some buttons. Tonight she flipped the master switch and she is lucky she's not my kid, because I would have painted her backside red. As it is, that was the first time I had to REALLY get mean, and I mean really mean, with her and she did cry.

But, still, when I opened my arms to her she came to me and I told her to stop crying. She did and I told her that I can only be nice if she's good. She's been a doll ever since.

Bedtime is soon though, and good thing, because I don't know how long she could keep this up.

Critter wars.

This morning the ants reclaimed the kitchen.

Not in the same swarms, but every time I killed one on the counter a new one appeared. It was frustrating to say the least.

E took the two older kids for a movie. T had an important appointment at the nail salon, and I am not being sarcastic. That is important. And I need one, too. It's been three years.

My one goal for today was to get every floor in this house clean. And I did. They are all vacuumed, swept, dusted, mopped or polished. Every last one of them. Even the basement.

And while I was in the basement I met a silverfish. This is the third one. I got my silverfish smashing flip-flop and smashed it. It ran on my first attempt and I almost lost it. I had to pull out my night stand to get it and I finally killed it just a few inches from the head of my bed.

I didn't have the means or the nerve to clean it up right away. I literally gagged a few times because its legs kept twitching. They always keep twitching.

I went to fold laundry and I kept an eye on it, because the only thing I believe can rise from the dead besides Jesus, is a silverfish.

Now, before I continue let me just backtrack a little bit.

I've been living here for three weeks now. Every morning I wake up with a new bite on one of my arms. Just one. Not very big, not itchy. Just a red, raised bump where something bit me.

The last time this happened every morning after consecutive nights I found the culprit living under my bed. A tiny black spider who suffered at the hose of my vacuum cleaner.

Today, I woke up with yet another bite on my arm, this one below the sleeve line. The biter is getting gutsy.

And then, while the dead silverfish remained smeared on the wall, and I stood no closer than five feet away folding laundry and singing along to the Dixie Chicks, the very spider who is eating me slowly, crawled out from behind my bed, which is purposely three inches away from the wall, and began feeding on the silverfish.

SICK NASTY.

I retrieved my shoe of death and tried to kill the little curse word who is spotting my arms. But I was still so grossed out by the first carcass that I couldn't bring myself to smack it again. The spider was too close to the silverfish and I missed it. Then he ran back behind the bed.

I can expect to wake up with a new bite mark tomorrow.

And the minute I get home from church, that thing is dead.

When the baby woke up from his nap we ate lunch and the two of us headed off to the pool. I held one of his hands while he ran around the one-foot kiddie pool. I showed him a bug and he tried to touch it. It was one of those speckled waterbugs with sticky feet and when he touched it, it latched on.

He spent the next few seconds trying to shake it off while I laughed. Plus I was still on the phone, so I had my priorities.

We got home to T and R lounging around the house. I showered and did some lounging of my own. At dinner time, I opted to take over dinner and leave T to the yard work. Yard work is hard.

The kids ate and we made Rice Krispie treats. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but then I let them eat some too.

While I put the baby to bed the two kids ran around the house like wild things. T left to get more garden supplies.

E got home, and eventually T did too and the whole lot of them went outside to work in the yard and catch fireflies. They nabbed four, and I fixed them a plastic container with air holes.

When the kids were finally in bed, T and E went out for a late dinner.

I came downstairs to relax and blog and was interrupted quickly by R screaming, "Kim! I need you quick! I really need you! I'm serious! HELP! THE FIREFLIES CAN GET OUT! THERE'S REALLY ONE IN MY ROOM!"

I have to tell you, I laughed the whole way up, the whole time I was catching the loose bug and the whole time I was poking smaller holes in a new container.

I showed R that I had fixed the problem but she still didn't want them in her room. Poor guys are hanging out with me in the playroom for a while then. I'd let them go, but the house alarm is set and I don't remember or care what the code is.

Before I go to bed, I need to face the other spider in my life. He lives in my bathroom. He used to live between the garbage can and the wall, but I have to move the can when I clean in there, so I told him if he wanted to stay, he needed to find new lodging.

He set up shop in the crack between the shower and the sink.

I let him live because I found him during the great ant fiasco of 2011 and I needed an ally. I hate my bathroom enough, I don't want it crawling with ants too. I'd prefer this one little spider, and he is pretty little.

I get the feeling though that he wants to bite me, because all spiders do. I am delicious.

The other reason I think that, is that every time I go in there he starts creeping out of his crack and trying to get close to me.

At first I would be tempted to kill him but as our friendship grows, I've begun just blowing at him and the wind startles him back into his hole. Today I told him I've killed his kind before and I'll do it again so he better learn his place and stop trying to bite me all the time.

Sheesh.

I feel like Bella over here. Only prettier and with a personality and a brain.

Think positive.

R's third fourth birthday party was today.

Are you following this? She turned four three days after I got here. We've been celebrating ever since.

Today's party had been scheduled for last weekend, but a power outtage bumped it to this afternoon.

All morning I did the regular stuff and played with the kids. I was in the shower when the doorbell rang for a water delivery and no one else answered it. The water guy had to finish his route and come back. Ahhhh to be so spoiled...oh wait, now I am.

E and T both had to work so we just hung out and did puzzles. "Dr." R gave me a check up and when she made motions with her finger to give me a shot I screamed and she jumped and peed her pants a little and then laughed uncontrollably for a minute.

That was fun.

At two, we ran around the house like maniacs making sure everyone was ready. I had done up R's hair because it is so curly and perfect and she always wears it down. The only way I could convince her to let me put it up was by reminding her that Cinderella wore hers in an updo.

Pump It Up is a place with rooms full of blow up play equipment. Everyone gets inside and loses their shoes and starts jumping and climbing and sliding. There are obstacle courses and in one room was a bouncy climbing wall. The kids spent half their time trying to reach the top of the wall to pin a flag on a star and the other half of their time trying to stand.

It's highly amusing.

The best part about this place is that the kids are quarantined to their party in one room. After a while they are escorted to the next room. And finally they are given their shoes back and released into the dining room to gorge themselves on pizza. R, as the guest of honor, got to sit on a HUGE inflatable throne.

Mom E followed me around for the duration of the party telling me the baby was cold and his pants were too tight. But she also told me she liked me. I guess I am passing the test.

I missed the food because I was feeding the baby, which is sad, because cheap pizza is honestly one of my favorite things. The only thing better than frozen pizza is hospital pizza.

At home, the two older kids slept, T took the baby and I went to fold laundry.

After my nap with my unfolded laundry, T had Shabbat dinner ready.

E was grumpy at dinner and as a result, J ate everything on his plate and then peed on the potty. It was the best night ever. I wish E would be grumpy more often because the kids actually listen. R threw a tantrum at the start of dinner, E took her out of the room, yelled at her and when they returned she went right to her seat and began eating. That almost never happens.

After they all went upstairs to put the kids to bed, I took clean up upon myself. Washing dishes is when I do my best thinking.

And here's what I was thinking.

I need to start reminding myself of the things I like about this family throughout the course of the day. I like them. When people ask me how it's going and I sum things up in my head real quick, it's going really well. I love my job, the kids are growing on me and I can totally see myself here for the next two years, which is my game plan.

And today at the party, T genuinely wanted me to have a good time. It wasn't mandatory that I go, I wasn't technically working. It was her mother-in-law chasing me around telling me to take care of the baby, and honestly, I didn't even have him much. He had enough aunties and cousins there passing him around that I got a nice break.

And I did have a good time.

So, for all the play-by-play annoyances throughout the day and all the grief these children cause me, I do like it here. I like them. And I really like Willie Nelson.

He's finally peeing where I tell him to and he never talks back.