Today my mom took the kidlets to a Provincial Park for an outing. She told Ben on the phone to pack skates, and sleds. I looked outside, then on the weather network channel, and noticed that sun and warm-ish temps were on order for today. I thought, ok, whatever, they can skate and burn some energy, and packed accordingly.
30 minutes after I left them with my parents, my mom texts me.
It’s too warm for skating, the rink is closed!
Now THAT’S a phrase I haven’t heard in months!
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The point of purging your house of out-grown clothing, for example, is not make room for clothing that fits. Right?
I’m on a clothing purge. Namely, kids clothing.
But while I’m purging kids clothes I’m also including toys they’ve outgrown. They don’t notice it much, which is good, but it makes me feel bad too because I’m doing it behind their back.
I don’t really like going behind their backs, but the end result is that the house is more liveable and they get new stuff, anyway. It’s not like puzzles, for example, hold such a deep, personal attachment that they wouldn’t get over it if they noticed I had removed them. (And besides, puzzles are one of those toys that I know other kids will enjoy. That takes care of the guilt factor.)
The trouble is that I have discovered while dropping off donations that some of the thrift stores hold great treasures! For example, when I think about how many drinking glasses we’ve broken or end up in the dishwasher leaving none out for us to use, and I walk down the kitchen wares aisles of a thrift store, I am amazed at the good quality, huge selection of drinking glasses available even cheaper than, say, Ikea glassware.
I have made a pact with myself: when this house is finally renovated, I will shop at the two or three good quality thrift stores FIRST before going to a mass-producer, or chain store for things like kitchen items.
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I have been wine-less since the middle of last week and I don’t even miss it. Well, maybe a little…I think I will however treat myself to a glass of wine on my oldest child’s birthday on Thursday. He wants to go out to dinner, and I figure his birthday is just as important to me as it is to him, so I’m going to fall off that wagon, and enjoy it.
My boy will be 9. NINE! How did this happen?