Little boys are weird

I always knew I wanted kids, but somehow I imagined myself with a large family of mostly girls. I am still sometimes surprised by the reality of life with four boys, and the huge differences between the boys and girls. I can't believe there was a whole generation back in the 70s and 80s that asserted that there are no innate differences between the sexes. And people say the drugs now are strong.

The kids had two days off from school this week - Monday for that trumped-up commercial joke of a holiday, Presidents' Day, and yesterday for...rain. Cold rain. Whatever. It's meant a lot of togetherness with public enemy number one, aka my 6 year old. Monday was possibly my worst day ever with him, which is certainly saying something. Yesterday was surprisingly not awful, leading me to hope that things were improving in the me-envying-mother-cats-who-can-eat-their-young area. Today, he has reverted to type, being mean as a snake to his brother, having extremely selective hearing, and throwing shit all over the house how hard is this goddamned rule DO NOT THROW SHIT IN THE HOUSE. We still have a broken window from 2 years ago - when home repairs are undertaken at this glacial speed, it's just good sense not to encourage projectiles in the house, right?

Against all logic, I let the 6 year old have two friends over for a sleepover tonight. Also against all logic, so far it's going really well. Sometimes adding kids really does make things easier (something I often tell people who seem surprised by our herd, but sometimes I wonder if it's true). Favorite moments so far include three half naked heathens streaking through the kitchen and into the bathroom, led by 6 year old yelling "follow me! into the shower!" A few minutes later, I heard the 4 year old tell his little brother, "push my nipple and see what happens." As of this typing, there is screaming and thumping coming from upstairs, but it seems to be of the happy variety. So far, anyway.

My life in bullets

I've had good intentions and poor follow-through on my blog this month. Topics I've meant to write about and haven't (and almost certainly won't get around to at this point):

• Taking classes (I'm awesome! All 100%s so far!)
• Teaching a class (big suck, hate it this semester, not doing it again)
• The primary election (I just voted, after changing my mind about who to vote for at least 37 times in the past week)
• Tae Kwon Do (enrolled 2 of the boys, and it seems to be making them lovely, who knew, crazy 4 year old even wore clothes with a face on them, unprecedented)
• Bingo ("Balls!" I went on Saturday and am totally hooked, must go again soon, totally worth the money just to see the bizarre subculture even when you don't win)
• Volunteering (still awesome, excellent motivation not to do drugs/go insane/drive into things/walk drunk down dark streets in front of traffic)
• The twins (trying to wean, still not sleeping, cute but speechless, girl peed on the potty twice but then lost interest)

See how much I talk to you all in my head? Isn't it faster to just get the Clif's Notes like this?

Me and Percy

I finally named the cat. We got him in September, and never settled on a name. My friend and her kids call him Cookie, because of the way I obtained him (from a stranger in a car at the park, just as we warn children not to take things). A couple of my children call him Panther, which is actually a pretty good name for him, as he is large and black and half-wild. Most of us just call him Kitty, but as he seems to double in size each week, that's starting to seem silly. This week, as the stupid cat tried over and over to get into my water glass, it occurred to me that his most distinctive character trait is persistence - maddening, insane persistence. Thus he has become Percy, at least to me. Percy, the cat of a thousand names.

It dawned on me this morning that I have a narrow but distinctive persistent streak myself (persistent sounds so much nicer than stubborn). I've always thought of myself as fairly wishy-washy, but on the few occasions that I actually commit myself to a goal, I don't let much deter me. Including common sense. I seem to have set myself just such a goal with this medical school madness. This morning, after being up almost literally all night with a stomach virus that left everyone else after 24 hours but really really likes me and does not want to leave, I drove to school at 7am in ice and rain, only to discover that the college had a one hour delay. I made good use of the delay in the bathroom in the student union (I'd better be thinner after this), and then proceeded to my 2 hour physics class, where I had to engage way more actively than my tired, dehydrated, ill body wanted me to in an experiment involving a bowling ball. I made it through without any horrifying incontinence-related emergencies, then returned to my car, only to discover that I had forgotten to hang my parking pass and had therefore received a ticket. And despite this, I fully intend to go back for more on Monday. Although hopefully without being a host for 8 zillion nasty stomach viruses.