Chris Come Home Soon!

It's been a busy week. 

Tate was wide awake at 3:40 this morning.  I threw him in bed with me thinking he MIGHT go back to sleep.  When that didn't work, I put him back in his bed.  I didn't even make it back my bedroom before he escaped and was at my heels.  I put him back in bed with me,  I got him milk, I put him in time out, I tried all of these things repeatedly and finally at 5:15  just put the TV on.  With sleep obviously not in the cards, I got up and organized a mound of dad's medical/insurance paperwork.  While I did this (only 10 feet away) Tate snagged a pen from the bed side table and marked up his arms and legs.  He colored his "boo boos" first (scratched mosquito bites) and then played something that resembled "Connect the Dots".  At 5:45 I was getting dressed for work, by 6:15 Tate was dressed too, we woke Cayla last and by 7 we are all literally waiting for it to be time to leave.  This is unheard of in our house.  This is the first time this week I've made it to work on time (and I was even a bit EARLY *gasp*).  In my previous life I was never late anywhere.  I really do HATE being late - it's one of my biggest peeves.  Since Tate's started "real school" (double the drop-of lines and double the traffic), I don't make it anywhere on time.  

Cayla is doing great.  She's LOVES to read. She read books, the TV guide channel, parts of my PEOPLE magazine, and even the back of the pizza box.  With Chris still out of town, I am living up to the T-BIT nickname bestowed on me.  T-BIT: "Throw Bag In Trash" interchangeable with "Throw Box In Trash".  Can you say Red Baron and Viola?  Boy is this weekend's birthday party food sounding great! 

We are definitely ready to have Chris back home tomorrow night.  I know this evening I'll pick up Tate, and just as he does every day he'll say "Go Home and See Daddy".  I'll remind him that Dad's not home. When we get to the house he'll see Chris' truck in the driveway and he'll say "Daddy's Home!!!"  He'll go in and first look in Chris' "man chair", then our bathroom, the closet, our bed, and finally out by the grill.  When he finds him in none of those places, he'll ask "Where Daddy Go?" I'll tell him daddy's not home, and he'll repeat it in agreement.  An hour later, he'll be back on the hunt for daddy.  He'll get distracted if something else catches his eye along the way and mark up my shoes while in the closet, or put fruit snacks in the lid of my deodorant (an jam the lid back on - quite a sticky surprise) while searching the bathroom.  Chris please come home soon!