In an effort to save the planet (and some money), I've opted for cotton training pants instead of Pullups, while potty training Big Red. It's more laundry, which sucks (and isn't exactly green), but we go through a lot of diapers and Pullups, especially since he feels the need to take these off the minute they are soiled.
I get it. I really do. I don't (regularly) pee my pants, but if I did, I certainly wouldn't want to sit in the mess. But the training pants have created a monster.
They are extremely easy to remove. And removing them results in a fabulously fun game of chase with Mommy. Hard to resist. It's gotten to the point that I know he's taken them off because I can hear the giggle. (Please Lord, let this continue into his teenage years.) It's like having a tiny flasher in residence. He streaks through the house, junk jiggling, laughing like a loon. As much as I want to discourage this behavior, especially with a large family gathering coming up, it's really hard not to laugh as he runs past, shrieking with delight when caught.
Still, keeping your pants on is a basic social skill I feel is necessary for life. I think he'll thank me for it eventually. Though probably not for posting about it. And definitely not for the pictures. His wife will thank me for those.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Infected
Things at the PTN house are falling to pieces. Dinner didn't get made last night (thank God for pizza), my children spent the bulk of the day in jammies and let's face it, the house is a wreck! Why? What horrible thing has happened? I'm not injured or sick. Breaking Dawn is coming on Saturday!
Yes, I read teen fiction. Shut up. It started as a preview read when Drama Queen's friends began raving about Twilight. DQ is at an iffy age, where the stuff she wants to read and the stuff that is appropriate don't always line up. So I frequently preview novels. I've never actually said no to a novel, but if there is sex, drugs, drinking etc, we talk about it. If I enjoy the book, we also have book-club like discussions on it and I have the crown of cool mom, because I know what Forks is.
So I previewed Twilight and was fascinated. The characters were rich and complex. The plot was well-wrought. The ending was a little contrived, but hey, I read romance novels, so I have no room to complain. In short, I loved it. I bought a copy of the three books released and we devoured them together. We laughed and argued about the merits of Edward vs. Jacob. We waited impatiently for the fourth book to be released. It was reminiscent of our Harry Potter days.
I even engaged in a bit of out and out bribery. Our deal has always been if I buy the book, I get to read it first. This isn't too much of a trial, since I am a very fast reader. But with Breaking Dawn, DQ protested. She simply couldn't wait a day. So I made a deal. If she would read To Kill A Mockingbird and Emma over the summer, I would buy Breaking Dawn and she could read it first. She finished Mockingbird and loved it. We even talked about it. Emma has proven to be more of a struggle, mostly because of Austen's circuitous wordplay. She's almost done.
I, on the other hand, am re-reading the first three Twilight books. It's been a while and I've read a lot of other stuff. I'm refreshing myself on the story developments. I did this with all the Harry Potter books and still do it with the Janet Evanovich and JD Robb books. Not that it's a hardship. I'm always happy to revisit Morelli, Ranger and Roarke.
The bad part is nothing has gotten done. These books are as absorbing now as they were the first time I picked them up. I read all of Twilight yesterday, which is why my house is in ruins. I don't feel too bad about it, to be honest. I'm too involved in New Moon. To be honest, y'all were lucky to get a post out of me.
Back to Bella...
Yes, I read teen fiction. Shut up. It started as a preview read when Drama Queen's friends began raving about Twilight. DQ is at an iffy age, where the stuff she wants to read and the stuff that is appropriate don't always line up. So I frequently preview novels. I've never actually said no to a novel, but if there is sex, drugs, drinking etc, we talk about it. If I enjoy the book, we also have book-club like discussions on it and I have the crown of cool mom, because I know what Forks is.
So I previewed Twilight and was fascinated. The characters were rich and complex. The plot was well-wrought. The ending was a little contrived, but hey, I read romance novels, so I have no room to complain. In short, I loved it. I bought a copy of the three books released and we devoured them together. We laughed and argued about the merits of Edward vs. Jacob. We waited impatiently for the fourth book to be released. It was reminiscent of our Harry Potter days.
I even engaged in a bit of out and out bribery. Our deal has always been if I buy the book, I get to read it first. This isn't too much of a trial, since I am a very fast reader. But with Breaking Dawn, DQ protested. She simply couldn't wait a day. So I made a deal. If she would read To Kill A Mockingbird and Emma over the summer, I would buy Breaking Dawn and she could read it first. She finished Mockingbird and loved it. We even talked about it. Emma has proven to be more of a struggle, mostly because of Austen's circuitous wordplay. She's almost done.
I, on the other hand, am re-reading the first three Twilight books. It's been a while and I've read a lot of other stuff. I'm refreshing myself on the story developments. I did this with all the Harry Potter books and still do it with the Janet Evanovich and JD Robb books. Not that it's a hardship. I'm always happy to revisit Morelli, Ranger and Roarke.
The bad part is nothing has gotten done. These books are as absorbing now as they were the first time I picked them up. I read all of Twilight yesterday, which is why my house is in ruins. I don't feel too bad about it, to be honest. I'm too involved in New Moon. To be honest, y'all were lucky to get a post out of me.
Back to Bella...
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
She's Ba-ack
Drama Queen is back from a month with her father and after two days, I'm pretty much ready to send her back.
Don't get me wrong. I love her to death. She's still a great kid and I am glad that she's home. But in addition to a suitcase of hand-me-downs from her aunt (which her dad tried to pass off as new clothes, hah!) she has returned with an attitude the size of Peoria. Needless to say, it isn't a happy, helpful attitude.
We got home from the airport Sunday afternoon and there was nothing to eat. We have crappy food, apparently. I smiled and told her that was unfortunate, but if she was really hungry, she should be able to find something in a full fridge and pantry. I was friendly about it, but my voice had an edge. When she rolled her eyes and turned away, I mentioned that the eye rolling would lose her eye privileges if she wasn't careful. I was joking. Sort of.
Later, she mentioned that she was definitely cleaning the bathroom, soon. I laughed and asked if she missed chores that much. She said, "Not really, but the bathroom is disgusting." Excuse me??? I cleaned it last week! I just laughed it off and told her she was welcome to do whatever she needed to. Her reply?
"Oh, I don't want to, but it's necessary for my sanity."
I let it go. That's how glad I was to have her home. I know! Later in the evening, as I was cleaning the kitchen one last time, she mentioned how many places had school supplies out. I agreed, saying I was sad to know summer was ending. In a month. She kept at it and finally, I asked, "Are you wondering when we'll get your school supplies?"
"Yes!"
"After orientation, when we get the list of supplies."
"But we'll only have five days!"
I am ashamed to say I laughed until my head exploded here. Only five days! HAHAHAHAHA
She continued to insist and finally we got to the heart of it. It seemed that she was afraid the locker supplies would be sold out before we got there.
Oh, for the love of little green apples!!!!
I informed her that she was welcome to purchase her own locker supplies, but that I was only buying the necessary items this year, because of a budget crunch. She grew a second head and breathed fire. Seriously. It was insane.
How on earth was she supposed to buy her own locker supplies when we don't pay her for babysitting anymore (a lie, we just don't go out much) and she hadn't gotten allowance in a month (while she had been at her father's)? Were we stupid or just cruel?
Oh no, she di-int.
If I had been my mother, I would have smacked her into next week. I still might. I was trying to be sympathetic to the mixed feelings that I knew she was experiencing and remind myself that we get this attitude because she feels safe here. But the whole thing seemed vaguely familiar to me and I began to realize where I had enjoyed this treatment. During the miserable years of my first marriage! Oh Boy! So I treated her to the speech.
"I don't know why you feel the need to tear me down, but it isn't working. It doesn't make you look cooler or superior in anyway. It makes you look like a jerk. It doesn't make me feel bad or angry, it just makes me want to not spend time with you." This is verbatim from a speech I gave her father near the end of out marriage. I had to tailor it from there, since I don't think the courts will let you divorce a child. "You have a choice here. You can treat Mr Clairol and I with respect and enjoy the privileges that come with that, or you can continue to be rude and obnoxious. If you choose rudeness, your privileges and allowance will be revoked. You get to decide. But I am not going to allow you to make me feel bad or less about myself, because whether you acknowledge it or not, I am a great mother and you are lucky to be my child."
Hand to God, I wish I had a camera to catch the look on her face. It was priceless! She was so pissed and embarrassed, she couldn't even reply. She just stormed to her room. Which, if I recall, was much the same reaction her father had. Interesting.
Later, she came out and offered an apology with a host of excuses for her behavior. I accepted the apology, hugged her and told her that the reasons why didn't matter. She always had a choice. Always.
It's been better since then, but she's still snarky and prone to eye-rolling. Her father claims, of course, that she did nothing like that while visiting him. I replied that perhaps she felt best behavior was necessary there, since she didn't feel as safe there. See? I can get a dig in here or there too. I'm still not buying locker supplies, but I am taking her to Staples to have babysitting cards made and I think Art and I will go see Ironman at the dollar theater. That or we'll install a lock on the outside of her door and manacles on the wall. It's a toss up at this point.
Don't get me wrong. I love her to death. She's still a great kid and I am glad that she's home. But in addition to a suitcase of hand-me-downs from her aunt (which her dad tried to pass off as new clothes, hah!) she has returned with an attitude the size of Peoria. Needless to say, it isn't a happy, helpful attitude.
We got home from the airport Sunday afternoon and there was nothing to eat. We have crappy food, apparently. I smiled and told her that was unfortunate, but if she was really hungry, she should be able to find something in a full fridge and pantry. I was friendly about it, but my voice had an edge. When she rolled her eyes and turned away, I mentioned that the eye rolling would lose her eye privileges if she wasn't careful. I was joking. Sort of.
Later, she mentioned that she was definitely cleaning the bathroom, soon. I laughed and asked if she missed chores that much. She said, "Not really, but the bathroom is disgusting." Excuse me??? I cleaned it last week! I just laughed it off and told her she was welcome to do whatever she needed to. Her reply?
"Oh, I don't want to, but it's necessary for my sanity."
I let it go. That's how glad I was to have her home. I know! Later in the evening, as I was cleaning the kitchen one last time, she mentioned how many places had school supplies out. I agreed, saying I was sad to know summer was ending. In a month. She kept at it and finally, I asked, "Are you wondering when we'll get your school supplies?"
"Yes!"
"After orientation, when we get the list of supplies."
"But we'll only have five days!"
I am ashamed to say I laughed until my head exploded here. Only five days! HAHAHAHAHA
She continued to insist and finally we got to the heart of it. It seemed that she was afraid the locker supplies would be sold out before we got there.
Oh, for the love of little green apples!!!!
I informed her that she was welcome to purchase her own locker supplies, but that I was only buying the necessary items this year, because of a budget crunch. She grew a second head and breathed fire. Seriously. It was insane.
How on earth was she supposed to buy her own locker supplies when we don't pay her for babysitting anymore (a lie, we just don't go out much) and she hadn't gotten allowance in a month (while she had been at her father's)? Were we stupid or just cruel?
Oh no, she di-int.
If I had been my mother, I would have smacked her into next week. I still might. I was trying to be sympathetic to the mixed feelings that I knew she was experiencing and remind myself that we get this attitude because she feels safe here. But the whole thing seemed vaguely familiar to me and I began to realize where I had enjoyed this treatment. During the miserable years of my first marriage! Oh Boy! So I treated her to the speech.
"I don't know why you feel the need to tear me down, but it isn't working. It doesn't make you look cooler or superior in anyway. It makes you look like a jerk. It doesn't make me feel bad or angry, it just makes me want to not spend time with you." This is verbatim from a speech I gave her father near the end of out marriage. I had to tailor it from there, since I don't think the courts will let you divorce a child. "You have a choice here. You can treat Mr Clairol and I with respect and enjoy the privileges that come with that, or you can continue to be rude and obnoxious. If you choose rudeness, your privileges and allowance will be revoked. You get to decide. But I am not going to allow you to make me feel bad or less about myself, because whether you acknowledge it or not, I am a great mother and you are lucky to be my child."
Hand to God, I wish I had a camera to catch the look on her face. It was priceless! She was so pissed and embarrassed, she couldn't even reply. She just stormed to her room. Which, if I recall, was much the same reaction her father had. Interesting.
Later, she came out and offered an apology with a host of excuses for her behavior. I accepted the apology, hugged her and told her that the reasons why didn't matter. She always had a choice. Always.
It's been better since then, but she's still snarky and prone to eye-rolling. Her father claims, of course, that she did nothing like that while visiting him. I replied that perhaps she felt best behavior was necessary there, since she didn't feel as safe there. See? I can get a dig in here or there too. I'm still not buying locker supplies, but I am taking her to Staples to have babysitting cards made and I think Art and I will go see Ironman at the dollar theater. That or we'll install a lock on the outside of her door and manacles on the wall. It's a toss up at this point.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Back Online
I'm back. Because I was using the lovely scheduling feature that Blogger has finally given us, you're just now finding out I've been without a computer for several days. THE TORTURE! I was just finding Twitter!
But Dell sent a tech out, who gave me a new motherboard, and more memory. I wish they'd install some in my head. Though not by the tech they sent out today. Ugh.
I've had some good luck with Dell. Usually my tech is fast, quiet and pretty easy on the eyes. Rare in IT, I think. The guy that came today was a piece of work. First off, he was an hour late. Not cool, dude. I'm a mom, I got shit to do, you know? (I'm also all ghetto now, apparently.)
He was a huge, sweaty man, which I don't object to on principle. I married a mechanic, didn't I? But he kept using swear words in front of my kids, took personal calls (but yammered at me the whole time I received a call!) and oh yes, kept calling things "gay" and "retarded." I hate that.
Here's the thing. I firmly believe the use of "gay" as a pejorative term is ridiculous. I used to question my students when they used that term, "So, are you saying being gay is bad?" Mostly, they backed down from that. But it still makes me want to scream, "YOU ARE IMPLYING THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG OR BAD ABOUT BEING GAY AND THERE ISN'T, YOU STUPID FUCKTARD!!!!!!"
I don't like the term retarded either, but mostly because I worked so closely with the families of challenged children and saw the discomfort that term caused, even used in a clinical setting. (I am in love with the term, "fucktard," however.) So Mr. Dell Tech was sort of working my last nerve. He did want to buy my fridge. I may trade it to him for a mirrored hard drive plus installation. It depends on if I have to be here when he arrives. I'm kidding. I'll never get rid of that fridge.
But whatever the ordeal, my computer has been fixed and I, for one, a doing a happy, happy dance.
But Dell sent a tech out, who gave me a new motherboard, and more memory. I wish they'd install some in my head. Though not by the tech they sent out today. Ugh.
I've had some good luck with Dell. Usually my tech is fast, quiet and pretty easy on the eyes. Rare in IT, I think. The guy that came today was a piece of work. First off, he was an hour late. Not cool, dude. I'm a mom, I got shit to do, you know? (I'm also all ghetto now, apparently.)
He was a huge, sweaty man, which I don't object to on principle. I married a mechanic, didn't I? But he kept using swear words in front of my kids, took personal calls (but yammered at me the whole time I received a call!) and oh yes, kept calling things "gay" and "retarded." I hate that.
Here's the thing. I firmly believe the use of "gay" as a pejorative term is ridiculous. I used to question my students when they used that term, "So, are you saying being gay is bad?" Mostly, they backed down from that. But it still makes me want to scream, "YOU ARE IMPLYING THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG OR BAD ABOUT BEING GAY AND THERE ISN'T, YOU STUPID FUCKTARD!!!!!!"
I don't like the term retarded either, but mostly because I worked so closely with the families of challenged children and saw the discomfort that term caused, even used in a clinical setting. (I am in love with the term, "fucktard," however.) So Mr. Dell Tech was sort of working my last nerve. He did want to buy my fridge. I may trade it to him for a mirrored hard drive plus installation. It depends on if I have to be here when he arrives. I'm kidding. I'll never get rid of that fridge.
But whatever the ordeal, my computer has been fixed and I, for one, a doing a happy, happy dance.
Oh Motherboard!
My computer is sick. Very sick. So sick, Dell is sending a new motherboard. This will mean that virtually every piece of my computer will have been replaced. Mr. Clairol is stoked, feeling that we have gotten one over on Dell. I personally think Dell is waiting until our warranty expires to bend us over, but I'm cynical that way. I'm also saving my pennies for a Mac.
I've got some posts scheduled and will try to post from my mom's house, so bear with me of comments aren't posted in a timely manner. Look at it this way. The backlog of comments will give me a tiny taste of what it must be like to be a rock star blogger.
Oh my God! I just realized this means NO TWITTER!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
I've got some posts scheduled and will try to post from my mom's house, so bear with me of comments aren't posted in a timely manner. Look at it this way. The backlog of comments will give me a tiny taste of what it must be like to be a rock star blogger.
Oh my God! I just realized this means NO TWITTER!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Searching For The Grail
We have a magic cup in our house. Much like the fabled Grail, it doesn't look like much on the outside, just a red plastic sippy cup. But Missy loves that cup. It is her cup and woe to the child who tries to drink from it. The girl gonna be all up in your grill, yo.
Missy objects to milk. Strongly. Unless it has chocolate in it and then, much like her mother, it's fine. But plain white milk? Nu-uh. Never. Nevah-evah. Unless it's in the red cup. Then it could be cat piss and she'd guzzle it down.
But the lid to the red cup is lost. I cannot find it anywhere and believe me, I have looked in some bat-shit crazy places. Including, but not limited to: our pool, the sandbox, the garden, the heating vent, the piano bench and several toy receptacles. Do you know what happens when you can't find a preschooler's favorite drinking apparatus? Tears. Sorrow. Tantrums. Locusts. Four horsemen. You get the picture.
She's okay, but everytime she saw the cup, she'd whimper a little, so I've hidden it until I a) find the lid or b) buy a replacement. Because it's going to have to be one or the other. Soon. My sanity hangs in the balance.
Missy objects to milk. Strongly. Unless it has chocolate in it and then, much like her mother, it's fine. But plain white milk? Nu-uh. Never. Nevah-evah. Unless it's in the red cup. Then it could be cat piss and she'd guzzle it down.
But the lid to the red cup is lost. I cannot find it anywhere and believe me, I have looked in some bat-shit crazy places. Including, but not limited to: our pool, the sandbox, the garden, the heating vent, the piano bench and several toy receptacles. Do you know what happens when you can't find a preschooler's favorite drinking apparatus? Tears. Sorrow. Tantrums. Locusts. Four horsemen. You get the picture.
She's okay, but everytime she saw the cup, she'd whimper a little, so I've hidden it until I a) find the lid or b) buy a replacement. Because it's going to have to be one or the other. Soon. My sanity hangs in the balance.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
You Might Be A Stay At Home Mom Saturday
If going to the bathroom by yourself, with the door closed, is an unimaginable luxury, you might be a stay at home mom.
Friday, July 25, 2008
My Last One
Big Red sat on the potty and peed today. Of course, it would have been nice if the stream had made it (or been aimed) into the toilet, but details, people. Details. Let the potty-training commence!
As my husband says, it's on like Donkey Kong
As my husband says, it's on like Donkey Kong
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Twitter-pated
I have been snared. After endlessly mocking Jenny at BlogHer, I've fallen into this gaping time waster called Twitter. Dear God, I will never get anything done again!
It's like Instant Messaging, but more insidious, because it isn't a conversation, per se. Instead, it's random thoughts, tossed into the ether of the internet and responded to or not. You can walk away, but you always come back. It's like Internet crack.
Does the Cirque Lodge have a program for Twittering?
It's like Instant Messaging, but more insidious, because it isn't a conversation, per se. Instead, it's random thoughts, tossed into the ether of the internet and responded to or not. You can walk away, but you always come back. It's like Internet crack.
Does the Cirque Lodge have a program for Twittering?
Really?!?
Have we sunk so far as a society, that courts must intervene in the naming of a child?
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080724/ap_on_re_au_an/new_zealand_bizarre_names
I'll never complain about being one of 60 bajillion Jennifers again.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080724/ap_on_re_au_an/new_zealand_bizarre_names
I'll never complain about being one of 60 bajillion Jennifers again.
The Pen And The Sword
Is it better to be bitchy about someone in an anonymous forum or to trash them, using their name, to people who know them? I know some people who would say if you have a problem with someone, you should talk to them about it to their face. I agree with those people, now.
Yesterday, it was brought to my husband's friend's attention that I blog. He visited my site. He read some bitchy things that I posted about his wife and kids. He is understandably hurt.
And I feel terrible. Actually, I mostly feel angry. Because while, for years, I have been complaining to my husband about my treatment at the hands of this man's wife, he never did a damn thing about it. And now, his friend is hurt, and he's calling me, while I am sick and exhausted and dealing with two small children, telling me I need to make it right. Now my husband is angry with me, because I expressed my hurt and frustration that he wouldn't listen too.
Yes, I do need to make it right. And I don't know how. I should have never put that sort of negativity out there and if I had even remembered it was out there, I would have taken it down. But I didn't. And it hurt people. Obviously, I'm taking those posts down. But there is a larger issue here.
My faith calls for me to treat people with love and respect. I am only human and I can't be perfect. But when I have failed, it is up to me to make amends. And I just don't know how. An apology seems too simple. Obviously, I owe them one. I'm not sure this is the time to give it. My "outing" has stirred up a lot of resentment and anger, so I'm pretty sure any apology I give now would be half-assed and probably wind up making it worse. Plus, I'm trying to sift through what I'm sorry for. Definitely saying negative things about their son. It was uncalled for and I am deeply ashamed of myself for that. Definitely for hurting anyone's feelings. But am I sorry for expressing myself and venting my anger, hurt and frustration? For trying to laugh about out, so I don't rage and scream and cry?I don't know yet.
It's definitely a lesson learned. When you put that stuff out there, it's going to hurt someone, somewhere, sometime. I suppose venting is best done off-line.
Yesterday, it was brought to my husband's friend's attention that I blog. He visited my site. He read some bitchy things that I posted about his wife and kids. He is understandably hurt.
And I feel terrible. Actually, I mostly feel angry. Because while, for years, I have been complaining to my husband about my treatment at the hands of this man's wife, he never did a damn thing about it. And now, his friend is hurt, and he's calling me, while I am sick and exhausted and dealing with two small children, telling me I need to make it right. Now my husband is angry with me, because I expressed my hurt and frustration that he wouldn't listen too.
Yes, I do need to make it right. And I don't know how. I should have never put that sort of negativity out there and if I had even remembered it was out there, I would have taken it down. But I didn't. And it hurt people. Obviously, I'm taking those posts down. But there is a larger issue here.
My faith calls for me to treat people with love and respect. I am only human and I can't be perfect. But when I have failed, it is up to me to make amends. And I just don't know how. An apology seems too simple. Obviously, I owe them one. I'm not sure this is the time to give it. My "outing" has stirred up a lot of resentment and anger, so I'm pretty sure any apology I give now would be half-assed and probably wind up making it worse. Plus, I'm trying to sift through what I'm sorry for. Definitely saying negative things about their son. It was uncalled for and I am deeply ashamed of myself for that. Definitely for hurting anyone's feelings. But am I sorry for expressing myself and venting my anger, hurt and frustration? For trying to laugh about out, so I don't rage and scream and cry?I don't know yet.
It's definitely a lesson learned. When you put that stuff out there, it's going to hurt someone, somewhere, sometime. I suppose venting is best done off-line.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Big Red Turns 2
Oh, my son. Your second year has been full of discovery, joy, frustration and temper tantrums. And that's just been me.
You've come a long way this year, Big Red. Walking, talking, feeding yourself, in fact doing most everything you can manage by yourself. You look to Missy Hoohaw to blaze the trail, then follow it at a run. When she started using the potty, you decided to take off your diaper and join her. Now I can scarcely keep you clothed. When she stopped using a booster seat, you decided you were far too big to be in one as well. When Missy started climbing on the ottoman and jumping to the chair, you delighted in the new game, despite the fact that it often gets you both in trouble.
You still have the sweetest smile I've ever seen. You love to laugh and while tickling seems to leave you a little cold, zerberts are a guaranteed good time. Your eyes are changing from blue to green and your hair is losing the red, but the temper remains as Irish as they come, faith and begorrah. That's okay though. When you snuggle next to me and give me a hug with those chubby arms, I can forgive even the loudest temper tantrum.
You said goodbye to the crib this year and started sleeping in a big boy bed. And in true big boy form, you've gotten your first set of stitches (three, from falling into the library door) and your first broken bone (the left clavicle, from falling off a dining room chair), all in the space of a week.
This has been the year of the Car for you. You are obsessed with Disney's movie Cars and love your die cast characters more than anything on this earth. You love the race cars best of all, The King being your very favorite, though Lightning is a close second. Dinosaurs are a big favorite as well. You like to line up your cars and make your dinosaur kiss each one, complete with sound effects. It's all I can do not to melt into a big puddle of adoration.
You also like the ladies, my boy. You've been known to walk up to a perfect stranger and ask for a cuddle. Andrea is your main squeeze, but when Aunt Jenny visited this year, you were all for snuggling with her as well. You smile and flirt with everyone when we're out and about, if I can keep you from tearing off at a run after your sisters. And when Daddy comes home, all bets are off. You can hear that scooter coming a mile away and are ready to greet him with a big smile and a bigger hug. I know it makes his day.
It's been an interesting year, Red. I'm looking forward to seeing what the next brings. Let's stay away from a concussion, shall we?
You've come a long way this year, Big Red. Walking, talking, feeding yourself, in fact doing most everything you can manage by yourself. You look to Missy Hoohaw to blaze the trail, then follow it at a run. When she started using the potty, you decided to take off your diaper and join her. Now I can scarcely keep you clothed. When she stopped using a booster seat, you decided you were far too big to be in one as well. When Missy started climbing on the ottoman and jumping to the chair, you delighted in the new game, despite the fact that it often gets you both in trouble.
You still have the sweetest smile I've ever seen. You love to laugh and while tickling seems to leave you a little cold, zerberts are a guaranteed good time. Your eyes are changing from blue to green and your hair is losing the red, but the temper remains as Irish as they come, faith and begorrah. That's okay though. When you snuggle next to me and give me a hug with those chubby arms, I can forgive even the loudest temper tantrum.
You said goodbye to the crib this year and started sleeping in a big boy bed. And in true big boy form, you've gotten your first set of stitches (three, from falling into the library door) and your first broken bone (the left clavicle, from falling off a dining room chair), all in the space of a week.
This has been the year of the Car for you. You are obsessed with Disney's movie Cars and love your die cast characters more than anything on this earth. You love the race cars best of all, The King being your very favorite, though Lightning is a close second. Dinosaurs are a big favorite as well. You like to line up your cars and make your dinosaur kiss each one, complete with sound effects. It's all I can do not to melt into a big puddle of adoration.
You also like the ladies, my boy. You've been known to walk up to a perfect stranger and ask for a cuddle. Andrea is your main squeeze, but when Aunt Jenny visited this year, you were all for snuggling with her as well. You smile and flirt with everyone when we're out and about, if I can keep you from tearing off at a run after your sisters. And when Daddy comes home, all bets are off. You can hear that scooter coming a mile away and are ready to greet him with a big smile and a bigger hug. I know it makes his day.
It's been an interesting year, Red. I'm looking forward to seeing what the next brings. Let's stay away from a concussion, shall we?
Day Three or Last BlogHer Post For A While
I think I may have given the impression that the BlogHer workshops were not all that great. Nothing could be further from the truth. I learned so much from them that processing it all is taking a few days. I do want to share it all and I believe I heard something about podcasts being available, so bear with me for a day or two more and I'll tell you what I learned.
Day Three was great. I had purchased some Tylenol PM at the Walgreen's and both Jenny and I slept like the dead. After breakfast we started our workshops for the day: Building Traffic, Monetization and Blog to Book. Monetization was a complete bust, but only because I was expecting them to lay out some information and it was a Q&A session. I came away with the general impression that the only thing you can do is have great content, so if your blog comes to someone's attention, they'll throw money at you. Great. Thanks.
I've come to the conclusion that I will never make money from this blog and that's okay. While meeting one of the BlogHer "superstars," she mentioned she reviewed my blog for the BlogHer ads. No, "I liked your stuff." No, "You're pretty funny." Not even a "Geez, your kids are nuts ." So I'm giving up on BlogHer Ads. Still going to the conferences though!
After the conference came the closing reception. At Macy's. What? Yes, they took us to Macy's, gave us 25% off coupons, liquored us up and set us loose. I think Macy's was hoping a bunch of drunk women would spend a bunch of money. Not so much. I didn't see one person purchase one single thing all night. That doesn't mean it didn't happen, just that I didn't observe it. I did observe someone spilling a half glass of red wine on a pair of satin shoes. That was awesome.
The highpoint of the night had to be the lingerie department, brought to us by K-Y. K-Y!!! I died right there. The cocktail napkins had K-Y imprinted on them. I made a bunch of women stand together and take a picture, holding those ridiculous napkins up. Then, a K-Y rep saw us and asked for a shot of us. By that time, my drunken comrades had scattered, so she had to settle for just me. Here's where I'll make money. I'll be the new spokeswoman for K-Y! Yay!
In furniture, there was a dance party going on. Except no one was dancing. More techno crap and a bunch of women standing around wondering why they were playing music we couldn't possibly dance to without hurting ourselves. We were all sitting around on couches, gabbing about how terrible the wine was and how the little sandwiches they were passing around tasted like butt lint. A manager from Macy's was hovering around, making sure no one spilled on the furniture. She looked a little crabby. I guess the fact that no one bought couches pissed her off.
We were shuffled out of there around ten and while we (actually, just Jenny) was invited to a cheeseburger party (huh?), we decided to go dancing instead. Okay, I wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep, but Jenny begged and cajoled, so I came out with her and Nancy of Marie Millard. We had fun, sipping drinks and fending off men. I actually got asked to dance, several times, which just goes to show that the boobs have power. (To which lesbians are immune.) I've learned that my sweet friend Jenny is a dancing fiend. She spent a lot of time on the dance floor and had a ton of fun. She also had a fair amount of the hooch, so we got back to the room, poured ourselves into bed and enjoyed *snort* our last night in the luxurious Union Square Plaza Hotel.
We had big plans for Sunday, but I was exhausted and Jenny had a plane to catch, so after a little wandering around, we retrieved the car and headed home. It was a fun ride home, both of us talking, getting lost in Hercules, and in general, just enjoying each other's company. It had been too long, and I'm determined to not let another twelve years slip by without seeing her sweet face, nose stud and all. By the by, Nosie is just as lovely in person as in pictures.
So that wraps up the recap portion of my BlogHer-palooza. I'll be back to share a little of what I learned, but for now, I'm pretty sick of typing BlogHer, so it will be back to regularly scheduled programming for now.
Day Three was great. I had purchased some Tylenol PM at the Walgreen's and both Jenny and I slept like the dead. After breakfast we started our workshops for the day: Building Traffic, Monetization and Blog to Book. Monetization was a complete bust, but only because I was expecting them to lay out some information and it was a Q&A session. I came away with the general impression that the only thing you can do is have great content, so if your blog comes to someone's attention, they'll throw money at you. Great. Thanks.
I've come to the conclusion that I will never make money from this blog and that's okay. While meeting one of the BlogHer "superstars," she mentioned she reviewed my blog for the BlogHer ads. No, "I liked your stuff." No, "You're pretty funny." Not even a "Geez, your kids are nuts ." So I'm giving up on BlogHer Ads. Still going to the conferences though!
After the conference came the closing reception. At Macy's. What? Yes, they took us to Macy's, gave us 25% off coupons, liquored us up and set us loose. I think Macy's was hoping a bunch of drunk women would spend a bunch of money. Not so much. I didn't see one person purchase one single thing all night. That doesn't mean it didn't happen, just that I didn't observe it. I did observe someone spilling a half glass of red wine on a pair of satin shoes. That was awesome.
The highpoint of the night had to be the lingerie department, brought to us by K-Y. K-Y!!! I died right there. The cocktail napkins had K-Y imprinted on them. I made a bunch of women stand together and take a picture, holding those ridiculous napkins up. Then, a K-Y rep saw us and asked for a shot of us. By that time, my drunken comrades had scattered, so she had to settle for just me. Here's where I'll make money. I'll be the new spokeswoman for K-Y! Yay!
In furniture, there was a dance party going on. Except no one was dancing. More techno crap and a bunch of women standing around wondering why they were playing music we couldn't possibly dance to without hurting ourselves. We were all sitting around on couches, gabbing about how terrible the wine was and how the little sandwiches they were passing around tasted like butt lint. A manager from Macy's was hovering around, making sure no one spilled on the furniture. She looked a little crabby. I guess the fact that no one bought couches pissed her off.
We were shuffled out of there around ten and while we (actually, just Jenny) was invited to a cheeseburger party (huh?), we decided to go dancing instead. Okay, I wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep, but Jenny begged and cajoled, so I came out with her and Nancy of Marie Millard. We had fun, sipping drinks and fending off men. I actually got asked to dance, several times, which just goes to show that the boobs have power. (To which lesbians are immune.) I've learned that my sweet friend Jenny is a dancing fiend. She spent a lot of time on the dance floor and had a ton of fun. She also had a fair amount of the hooch, so we got back to the room, poured ourselves into bed and enjoyed *snort* our last night in the luxurious Union Square Plaza Hotel.
We had big plans for Sunday, but I was exhausted and Jenny had a plane to catch, so after a little wandering around, we retrieved the car and headed home. It was a fun ride home, both of us talking, getting lost in Hercules, and in general, just enjoying each other's company. It had been too long, and I'm determined to not let another twelve years slip by without seeing her sweet face, nose stud and all. By the by, Nosie is just as lovely in person as in pictures.
So that wraps up the recap portion of my BlogHer-palooza. I'll be back to share a little of what I learned, but for now, I'm pretty sick of typing BlogHer, so it will be back to regularly scheduled programming for now.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Day Two or How To Not Be A Lesbian
I woke up Friday morning, free of any unwanted itching, but tired as a dog from the street noise. That was okay. I'd rather have bags under my eyes than fleas. We got ready and walked over to the hotel, dodging the beggar that shouted obscenities to those who did not give him money. Jenny and I were honky bitches. I love the big city. We were a little early for breakfast, but that gave us time to stand in line for our bags.
Why would we stand in line for canvas bags? Because they were crammed with free stuff, of course. We also cruised through the exhibitor displays. There was a plethora of free goodies to be had, the most coveted being the Leapfrog water bottles (Sigg-style metal flasks) and the European chocolates. We were hungry, but there was swag to be had, so breakfast would have to wait.
When we did manage to grab breakfast, it was Continental fare. Danishes, croissants, muffins and melon. All delicious, but not exactly filling. That might have been because I was so busy talking, I could scarcely finish a piece of melon. Oh well. We listened to the opening speeches, then adjourned to the first workshops of the day.
I've been typing descriptions of the workshops for a half-hour now and so far, I'm at a loss to make them funny or even vaguely exciting, so I'll tell you I attended Blogging Basics, Content Syndication and Promotion and ditched the last session. I KNOW! I'm such a delinquent. I was suffering from information overload and the room it was in was so hot, I could barely stand it! My second session had been in that room and I swear, my brain had short-circuited from the sweat. I met some lovely people during the day though:
* Scribbit is an Alaska- based blogger who schooled me on optimizing the Blogger platform. Don't I sound like an official blogger now?
* Foodista is a Seattle based food blogger with a nicely done site. Great pictures, exotic but doable recipes and none of the smarmy patter that tends to infect these sites.
* Gone Feral I didn't get to talk to her as much as I would have liked and I looked for her during the conference, but it turns out she was crashing, so that explains it. She is completely, awesomely cool and after reading several of her posts, I am in love. She rocks.
Friday night's booze-fest was at Ruby Sky, which barely tolerated the presence of so many middle-aged women. We were nodded in by a bored bouncer, given two drink tickets and deafened with some ridiculous house track. I could have ignored the ginormous screens showing snippets from Saving Grace and The Closer, but playing one song all night long? And not even a good one. Just some techno crap that gave everyone a headache. The bartenders stopped honoring drink tickets at a few minutes before 10, hoping, I'm sure, we'd vacate the premises so they could bring in the beautiful people. Thankfully, I'd already had three drinks, including a concoction Jenny called A Dirty Girl Scout. This might explain the actions that followed.
A handful of us were flipping the (figurative) bird at Ruby Sky's staff and standing around talking. We were all relatively drunk and impervious to the dirty looks from the bartenders. (HA! Suck It, Ruby Sky!) I was talking to a lovely young woman from Virginia named Katie and another from Philly named Jessica. We all exchanged cards and as I looked down, I realized that Jessica's card read J.D. Bauchery and featured the tag line, I *heart* girl porn.
Holy Shit, I was talking to a lesbian porn purveyor! My little heart began to sing.
She was a doll and a bit taken aback to find herself chatting with a mommy blogger from Sac. I kindly pointed out that mommies have sex too. It's how we apply for the position in most cases. She then introduced me to her platonic friend, FiveStar. This girl was darling. So, so cute, I might have cheated on my husband, had she winked in my direction. Gone Feral described her as reminiscent of an "Outsiders-era Ralph Macchio," and I've always had a little thing for Ralph. She was far more interested in Jenny though, so sad. Jenny, being Jenny, was oblivious.
FiveStar decided we all needed to visit a lesbian bar. We were drunk, so off we trundled into two taxis and took off for Lexington and Mission.
Understand that this is my first experience in a lesbian bar. I've been to the local gay bar here a few times and had a blast. Good music, friendly people, gorgeous bartenders and the freedom to dance without being solicited. It's awesome. I knew this wouldn't be the same, but I was not expecting what I got.
What did I get? I got a dark, dirty, cramped shack filled with hostile women eyeing my group with suspicion. The music was hard to determine from all the chatter and getting a drink was nearly impossible. We stayed for a few minutes, getting roughly jostled by passing women (is this a lesbian mating ritual?) and worse, the twins were on magnificent display and no one hit on me. Perhaps big boobs do not count on fat chicks, as my brother so eloquently put it. God damn it, I am losing a good 60 pounds and marching back there. I dare those women to not be awed by the magnificence of my bosom! Jealous bitches.
Ooooh sorry. Was that out loud? That being said, I enjoyed talking to Jessica and FiveStar quite a bit. They were intelligent, irreverent women and I can never get enough of those.
After a bit, I looked over at Katie, La Petite Chic from Virginia and saw her deer in the headlights look. Maybe because someones hand was on her ass, I don't know. I made my way over and asked if she was ready. She quickly said yes and I collected Jennie. We found a cab and dissected the experience a bit, before Raven regaled us with tales of Drag Bars and New Orleans. She was a colorful character, that Raven. She, herself, was not a drag queen, understand. She just has a lot of knowledge about them. I did not hear how she came by this info. I was chatting with the elderly cabbie. That's how I roll.
So there you have it. My adventures in a lesbian bar. I hope you were just as disappointed as I was. I'm sticking the gay bars from now on. WAY more fun.
Why would we stand in line for canvas bags? Because they were crammed with free stuff, of course. We also cruised through the exhibitor displays. There was a plethora of free goodies to be had, the most coveted being the Leapfrog water bottles (Sigg-style metal flasks) and the European chocolates. We were hungry, but there was swag to be had, so breakfast would have to wait.
When we did manage to grab breakfast, it was Continental fare. Danishes, croissants, muffins and melon. All delicious, but not exactly filling. That might have been because I was so busy talking, I could scarcely finish a piece of melon. Oh well. We listened to the opening speeches, then adjourned to the first workshops of the day.
I've been typing descriptions of the workshops for a half-hour now and so far, I'm at a loss to make them funny or even vaguely exciting, so I'll tell you I attended Blogging Basics, Content Syndication and Promotion and ditched the last session. I KNOW! I'm such a delinquent. I was suffering from information overload and the room it was in was so hot, I could barely stand it! My second session had been in that room and I swear, my brain had short-circuited from the sweat. I met some lovely people during the day though:
* Scribbit is an Alaska- based blogger who schooled me on optimizing the Blogger platform. Don't I sound like an official blogger now?
* Foodista is a Seattle based food blogger with a nicely done site. Great pictures, exotic but doable recipes and none of the smarmy patter that tends to infect these sites.
* Gone Feral I didn't get to talk to her as much as I would have liked and I looked for her during the conference, but it turns out she was crashing, so that explains it. She is completely, awesomely cool and after reading several of her posts, I am in love. She rocks.
Friday night's booze-fest was at Ruby Sky, which barely tolerated the presence of so many middle-aged women. We were nodded in by a bored bouncer, given two drink tickets and deafened with some ridiculous house track. I could have ignored the ginormous screens showing snippets from Saving Grace and The Closer, but playing one song all night long? And not even a good one. Just some techno crap that gave everyone a headache. The bartenders stopped honoring drink tickets at a few minutes before 10, hoping, I'm sure, we'd vacate the premises so they could bring in the beautiful people. Thankfully, I'd already had three drinks, including a concoction Jenny called A Dirty Girl Scout. This might explain the actions that followed.
A handful of us were flipping the (figurative) bird at Ruby Sky's staff and standing around talking. We were all relatively drunk and impervious to the dirty looks from the bartenders. (HA! Suck It, Ruby Sky!) I was talking to a lovely young woman from Virginia named Katie and another from Philly named Jessica. We all exchanged cards and as I looked down, I realized that Jessica's card read J.D. Bauchery and featured the tag line, I *heart* girl porn.
Holy Shit, I was talking to a lesbian porn purveyor! My little heart began to sing.
She was a doll and a bit taken aback to find herself chatting with a mommy blogger from Sac. I kindly pointed out that mommies have sex too. It's how we apply for the position in most cases. She then introduced me to her platonic friend, FiveStar. This girl was darling. So, so cute, I might have cheated on my husband, had she winked in my direction. Gone Feral described her as reminiscent of an "Outsiders-era Ralph Macchio," and I've always had a little thing for Ralph. She was far more interested in Jenny though, so sad. Jenny, being Jenny, was oblivious.
FiveStar decided we all needed to visit a lesbian bar. We were drunk, so off we trundled into two taxis and took off for Lexington and Mission.
Understand that this is my first experience in a lesbian bar. I've been to the local gay bar here a few times and had a blast. Good music, friendly people, gorgeous bartenders and the freedom to dance without being solicited. It's awesome. I knew this wouldn't be the same, but I was not expecting what I got.
What did I get? I got a dark, dirty, cramped shack filled with hostile women eyeing my group with suspicion. The music was hard to determine from all the chatter and getting a drink was nearly impossible. We stayed for a few minutes, getting roughly jostled by passing women (is this a lesbian mating ritual?) and worse, the twins were on magnificent display and no one hit on me. Perhaps big boobs do not count on fat chicks, as my brother so eloquently put it. God damn it, I am losing a good 60 pounds and marching back there. I dare those women to not be awed by the magnificence of my bosom! Jealous bitches.
Ooooh sorry. Was that out loud? That being said, I enjoyed talking to Jessica and FiveStar quite a bit. They were intelligent, irreverent women and I can never get enough of those.
After a bit, I looked over at Katie, La Petite Chic from Virginia and saw her deer in the headlights look. Maybe because someones hand was on her ass, I don't know. I made my way over and asked if she was ready. She quickly said yes and I collected Jennie. We found a cab and dissected the experience a bit, before Raven regaled us with tales of Drag Bars and New Orleans. She was a colorful character, that Raven. She, herself, was not a drag queen, understand. She just has a lot of knowledge about them. I did not hear how she came by this info. I was chatting with the elderly cabbie. That's how I roll.
So there you have it. My adventures in a lesbian bar. I hope you were just as disappointed as I was. I'm sticking the gay bars from now on. WAY more fun.
Monday, July 21, 2008
BlogHer: Day One
I promised a BlogHer recap and I'm going to deliver, I swear, but first an update.
Big Red has indeed broken his clavicle. Here's my advice to parents: Never tempt fate by saying, "It looks like we're going to make it to his second birthday without major medical attention." Fate will slap your arrogant self down. Hard. And in my case, repeatedly.
And now, BlogHer '08: The Recap!
Jenny arrived, we met up without a hitch and Wednesday was a wonderful day. Thursday was hectic, but we ditched the train idea, rented a car and set off for San Francisco armed with a Google map and Jenny's brand spankin' new iphone, complete with hot pink icondom. We had a little trouble navigating the myriad of poorly marked, one way streets, but eventually found our way to thedumphotel and checked in. In an effort to save some money, we had found a hotel in the vicinity, rather than stay at the Westin. This proved to be a small mistake, but we were excited and in a hurry to get to the free boozeNewbie Mixer.
Riding up in the elevator, we met MerlotMom. She was very nice, but worried that I might throw up on her shoes. No, I wasn't drunk! It was on the top floor and the elevator was glass and oh Lord! I am afraid of heights!
We arrived at the mixer and got our badges, which would prove to be out tickets to an incredible deluge of booze, food and free stuff. I was a little intimidated, walking in to a huge room full of chattering people, but standing in line for drinks, we began striking up conversations and exchanging cards. It was fantastic. We were starving but barely had time to eat, we were talking so much! We met some wonderful women that would become touchstones during the week. Babz, over at LoveBabz, was wonderful, hilarious and always good for a warm hug and a long laugh. Kim and Chris from 3 Giraffes were kind enough to allow me swag bag parking in their room. We didn't get to sit through workshops together, but touched base frequently throughout the conference and enjoyed some nice conversations. And the topper of the evening? Meeting Kristy Sammis from She Just Walks Around With It. I met a lot of "blogstars" at the conference, but Kristy was the only one that was gracious, kind and seemed interested in talking to me. She even introduced her boyfriend and frequent subject of her blog, Ish. He was just as kind and funny. I tried not to spaz too much, but she is an idol of mine, due to her witty writing and general genius. So I did spaz. A little. She was pretty nice about it. Thank you Kristy and Ish.
We also met Caroline, aka Violet the Verbose. She is absolutely darling and was brave enough to hang with Jenny and I during a large part of the conference. Believe me when I say, we are not for the faint of heart! She also lives somewhat close to me, so if you're reading, Oh Verbose One, keep in touch!
Jenny and I were pretty high on the excitement of being there and the free drinks, so after a while we made our way back to our room, stopping at Jack in the Box on the way, since neither of us had a minute to eat, for all the talking and spazzing we were doing. I was pretty virtuous, opting for the Fajita Pita rather than the ultimate cheeseburger that was singing her cheesy siren song. Actually, I surprised myself by making very smart choices, food-wise. Now that I'm back home, the struggle begins anew, but that's another post, another time.
The room was a pit. I actually wore flip-flops because the idea of my bare feet on the carpet skeeved me out. The sheets were clean (I'm not even thinking about the mattress underneath them) and all in all, the room was adequate. My skin eventually stopped crawling every time I walked into the place.
So that was Day One and there will be more tomorrow, including my very first trip to a lesbian bar! Stay tuned, loveys!
Big Red has indeed broken his clavicle. Here's my advice to parents: Never tempt fate by saying, "It looks like we're going to make it to his second birthday without major medical attention." Fate will slap your arrogant self down. Hard. And in my case, repeatedly.
And now, BlogHer '08: The Recap!
Jenny arrived, we met up without a hitch and Wednesday was a wonderful day. Thursday was hectic, but we ditched the train idea, rented a car and set off for San Francisco armed with a Google map and Jenny's brand spankin' new iphone, complete with hot pink icondom. We had a little trouble navigating the myriad of poorly marked, one way streets, but eventually found our way to the
Riding up in the elevator, we met MerlotMom. She was very nice, but worried that I might throw up on her shoes. No, I wasn't drunk! It was on the top floor and the elevator was glass and oh Lord! I am afraid of heights!
We arrived at the mixer and got our badges, which would prove to be out tickets to an incredible deluge of booze, food and free stuff. I was a little intimidated, walking in to a huge room full of chattering people, but standing in line for drinks, we began striking up conversations and exchanging cards. It was fantastic. We were starving but barely had time to eat, we were talking so much! We met some wonderful women that would become touchstones during the week. Babz, over at LoveBabz, was wonderful, hilarious and always good for a warm hug and a long laugh. Kim and Chris from 3 Giraffes were kind enough to allow me swag bag parking in their room. We didn't get to sit through workshops together, but touched base frequently throughout the conference and enjoyed some nice conversations. And the topper of the evening? Meeting Kristy Sammis from She Just Walks Around With It. I met a lot of "blogstars" at the conference, but Kristy was the only one that was gracious, kind and seemed interested in talking to me. She even introduced her boyfriend and frequent subject of her blog, Ish. He was just as kind and funny. I tried not to spaz too much, but she is an idol of mine, due to her witty writing and general genius. So I did spaz. A little. She was pretty nice about it. Thank you Kristy and Ish.
We also met Caroline, aka Violet the Verbose. She is absolutely darling and was brave enough to hang with Jenny and I during a large part of the conference. Believe me when I say, we are not for the faint of heart! She also lives somewhat close to me, so if you're reading, Oh Verbose One, keep in touch!
Jenny and I were pretty high on the excitement of being there and the free drinks, so after a while we made our way back to our room, stopping at Jack in the Box on the way, since neither of us had a minute to eat, for all the talking and spazzing we were doing. I was pretty virtuous, opting for the Fajita Pita rather than the ultimate cheeseburger that was singing her cheesy siren song. Actually, I surprised myself by making very smart choices, food-wise. Now that I'm back home, the struggle begins anew, but that's another post, another time.
The room was a pit. I actually wore flip-flops because the idea of my bare feet on the carpet skeeved me out. The sheets were clean (I'm not even thinking about the mattress underneath them) and all in all, the room was adequate. My skin eventually stopped crawling every time I walked into the place.
So that was Day One and there will be more tomorrow, including my very first trip to a lesbian bar! Stay tuned, loveys!
Dreams
Last night, I dreamt of Spock. It was a vaguely sexual dream, which is a bit odd, since I'm not a Nimoy fan. I don't despise Leonard, but the opening sequence of Nova doesn't exactly rev my engine, if you know what I mean.
Spock and Kirk were debating possible URL and blog names in a large barn. Why I perceived a sexual vibe, I have no idea, but perhaps I'm processing a homo-erotic subtext that my young mind stored during the early enforced viewings of Star Trek. (Yes, my mom was a huge fan and I'm sure many apologies will be in order, should she read my blasphemy here.) The other thing I find somewhat troubling is how spending three days with other bloggers has affected my sub-conscious.
In other news, I am delighted to inform you that with three days to go before his second birthday, it appears that Big Red will require yet more medical attention. You may remember me mentioning his fall and subsequent crabbiness. I've returned home to find that he is still favoring the left arm and there appears to be a bump on his left clavicle that may indicate a break. Fathers being what they are, it did not occur to Mr. Clairol that something might be amiss. So off to the doctor's office (and possibly Child Protective Services) we go!
Spock and Kirk were debating possible URL and blog names in a large barn. Why I perceived a sexual vibe, I have no idea, but perhaps I'm processing a homo-erotic subtext that my young mind stored during the early enforced viewings of Star Trek. (Yes, my mom was a huge fan and I'm sure many apologies will be in order, should she read my blasphemy here.) The other thing I find somewhat troubling is how spending three days with other bloggers has affected my sub-conscious.
In other news, I am delighted to inform you that with three days to go before his second birthday, it appears that Big Red will require yet more medical attention. You may remember me mentioning his fall and subsequent crabbiness. I've returned home to find that he is still favoring the left arm and there appears to be a bump on his left clavicle that may indicate a break. Fathers being what they are, it did not occur to Mr. Clairol that something might be amiss. So off to the doctor's office (and possibly Child Protective Services) we go!
If you're waiting for BlogHer recaps, please do not despair. I have so much to tell you all that I'm a bit confused as to where to begin. I'm also faced with the reality that after three days away, my children really love their mommy. I'll be back later today to tell you all about Day One.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Honeys, I'm Hooooome!
Have you ever had an experience that was delightful, anxiety-provoking, fulfilling and overwhelming all at once?
Those of you who have given birth are raising your hand.
That was BlogHer '08. I have so much to tell you all and believe me, at least a month's worth of giveaways, but my husband is demanding some of my time and attention. (How dare he!) Then there's the fact that I have only begun to process the experience, so bear with my, my loveys.
I will tell you all this. You must attend one of these conferences if at all possible. I'm already plotting which banks to rob, in order to fund next year's excursion.
It is SO good to be home!
Those of you who have given birth are raising your hand.
That was BlogHer '08. I have so much to tell you all and believe me, at least a month's worth of giveaways, but my husband is demanding some of my time and attention. (How dare he!) Then there's the fact that I have only begun to process the experience, so bear with my, my loveys.
I will tell you all this. You must attend one of these conferences if at all possible. I'm already plotting which banks to rob, in order to fund next year's excursion.
It is SO good to be home!
Coming Home
I'm coming home today. As with all of this weekend's post, I'm typing this ahead of time. Allow me to say that as of Wednesday morning, 6:36 am PST, I have no idea what Sunday will hold.
Jenny isn't what you would call a planner. I met her at the airport on Wednesday with no game plan. No "I'll be waiting outside the terminal." No "Look for the burgundy Vanagon." No "Here's my cell number just in case." This stresses me out. All morning, I've been consumed with thoughts of, what if I can't find her? What time should I leave for the airport?" Should I drive by or try to go in? Because I am a little stress monkey. Hear me chatter! Eeeee Eeeee Eeeee
I am an obsessive planner. Remember my love of the spreadsheet? I like to know what is coming and prepare for all eventualities. I was so, so relieved when Kristy, from BlogHer, sent a little pre-conference planning guide. Thank goodness! I could know what to expect, somewhat. (There is no sarcasm in those statements. I am that tightly wound.)
Let me interject here, once again, that I am not rigid. Just because I like to know what is coming and plan for it, does not mean a change sends me chattering away in stress monkey mode. I'm a mom. I'm really flexible. I just like to have some possibilities mapped out. So I can pack appropriately, you know? You have to know what shoes to bring.
But Sunday is a blank page. We opted out of the informal, wrap-up day at the conference. We haven't really talked about what we want to do that day. Are we going to make our way around San Francisco? Take cable cars and all that touristy stuff? Despite living so close to it, I rarely get to visit. I've been to a few places, like Britex Fabrics ( I just had a tiny little orgasm), MOMA and Pier 39. But there is a lot of San Francisco that I have never seen. I can't think of anyone I'd rather explore a city with than Jenny. Except my husband. And maybe, Vin Diesel.
Or we might just opt to come home. Depends on how we feel. Oddly enough, I'm okay with the lack of plan for today. I suppose the glut of planning for the rest of the trip has satisfied my need for structure and preparation. Now if I can just figure out how we'll get around the city! Because Jenny might be willing to hike for miles, but I am not training for a marathon and can assure you I will not be hoofing it more that is necessary.
Stay tuned for my adventures at Blogher '08! There will be pictures. Oooooh! Aaaaahhh!
Jenny isn't what you would call a planner. I met her at the airport on Wednesday with no game plan. No "I'll be waiting outside the terminal." No "Look for the burgundy Vanagon." No "Here's my cell number just in case." This stresses me out. All morning, I've been consumed with thoughts of, what if I can't find her? What time should I leave for the airport?" Should I drive by or try to go in? Because I am a little stress monkey. Hear me chatter! Eeeee Eeeee Eeeee
I am a
Let me interject here, once again, that I am not rigid. Just because I like to know what is coming and plan for it, does not mean a change sends me chattering away in stress monkey mode. I'm a mom. I'm really flexible. I just like to have some possibilities mapped out. So I can pack appropriately, you know? You have to know what shoes to bring.
But Sunday is a blank page. We opted out of the informal, wrap-up day at the conference. We haven't really talked about what we want to do that day. Are we going to make our way around San Francisco? Take cable cars and all that touristy stuff? Despite living so close to it, I rarely get to visit. I've been to a few places, like Britex Fabrics ( I just had a tiny little orgasm), MOMA and Pier 39. But there is a lot of San Francisco that I have never seen. I can't think of anyone I'd rather explore a city with than Jenny. Except my husband. And maybe, Vin Diesel.
Or we might just opt to come home. Depends on how we feel. Oddly enough, I'm okay with the lack of plan for today. I suppose the glut of planning for the rest of the trip has satisfied my need for structure and preparation. Now if I can just figure out how we'll get around the city! Because Jenny might be willing to hike for miles, but I am not training for a marathon and can assure you I will not be hoofing it more that is necessary.
Stay tuned for my adventures at Blogher '08! There will be pictures. Oooooh! Aaaaahhh!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
You Might Be A Stay At Home Mom Saturday
When your husband takes the kids to the park, if you look around at a quiet, peaceful house and think, "I can finally vacuum/mop/do the laundry in peace," you might be a stay at home mom!
Okay, I'm totally ripping off Jeff Foxworthy here. My mom get's a "You Might Be A Redneck" paga-a-day calendar every year and we always get a giggle from it. But last Sunday, I had an epiphany. (Epiphany is probably a far grander word than this merits but whatever.)
Saturday is going to be You Might Be A Stay At Home Mome day, here at PTN! All of us have those moments, where we look around and say, "what has my life become?!?" Share them with us. Email me your SAHMisms and I'll post one every Saturday, along with you name and a link to you blog, if you have one. Who knows, I might even rustle up a prize for the best SAHMism. No promises. I'm poor, remember?
By the way, not to rub it in or anything, but Jenny and I are having a FABULOUS time at BlogHer! Look for my recap next week.
Okay, I'm totally ripping off Jeff Foxworthy here. My mom get's a "You Might Be A Redneck" paga-a-day calendar every year and we always get a giggle from it. But last Sunday, I had an epiphany. (Epiphany is probably a far grander word than this merits but whatever.)
Saturday is going to be You Might Be A Stay At Home Mome day, here at PTN! All of us have those moments, where we look around and say, "what has my life become?!?" Share them with us. Email me your SAHMisms and I'll post one every Saturday, along with you name and a link to you blog, if you have one. Who knows, I might even rustle up a prize for the best SAHMism. No promises. I'm poor, remember?
By the way, not to rub it in or anything, but Jenny and I are having a FABULOUS time at BlogHer! Look for my recap next week.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Greetings From The Asylum
I'm hijacking Jenny's laptop to tell you guys that BlogHer 08 is a zoo! So much fun,so many people, somuch information. More later, gotta get a massage.
I'm At BlogHer!
This morning, I am at BlogHer 'o8. I'm typing this ahead of time, so I have no idea how I feel. Tired? Giddy? Overwhelmed? Probably a bit of all three.
I'm sure that mostly, I'm just thrilled to be hanging with my homegirl again. It's been so long, but no one makes me laugh like Jenny.
Definitely missing my husband. Definitely sad I do not own a lap top. Definitely happy to be childless for a few blissful days.
I'll definitely recap my weekend in glorious San Francisco for everyone. Be watching next week, because I'll be sharing my experiences at the conference and on the town. Don't be too shocked and remember that Jenny is a very bad influence on me! Or is that the other way around?
I'm sure that mostly, I'm just thrilled to be hanging with my homegirl again. It's been so long, but no one makes me laugh like Jenny.
Definitely missing my husband. Definitely sad I do not own a lap top. Definitely happy to be childless for a few blissful days.
I'll definitely recap my weekend in glorious San Francisco for everyone. Be watching next week, because I'll be sharing my experiences at the conference and on the town. Don't be too shocked and remember that Jenny is a very bad influence on me! Or is that the other way around?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Almost Gone
In a few hours, I'll be taking off for San Francisco with Jenny. We had a great time last night, visiting with my parents. But this morning, there is a butt-load of stuff to do before I leave.
Leaving is hard for mommies. Dads are great, but I find it very necessary to make everything as seamless as possible for them. So I'm packing bags for the kids to take to my Mom's house tomorrow, making dinner for them to eat tonight, laying out clothes and writing out instructions for my darling husband.
I'm pretty sure that whilst I sit in workshops and peruse the exhibition hall, some small corner of my mind will be worrying about them. Big Red fell off a dining room chair yesterday and though it wasn't a major spill, he's acting weird and I'm wondering if he didn't hurt himself. I'm halfway tempted to call and get him into the doctor before I leave, so I can be absolutely sure he's fine before I take off. Missy Hoohaw is great and the magic of four is upon us, but I still worry that she will not understand why Mommy isn't there. First Drama Queen disappears and now Mommy? That's a lot to process for an almost four-year-old. And what if something happens to Drama Queen?
Can you tell this is the first time I've been away from them?
Leaving is hard for mommies. Dads are great, but I find it very necessary to make everything as seamless as possible for them. So I'm packing bags for the kids to take to my Mom's house tomorrow, making dinner for them to eat tonight, laying out clothes and writing out instructions for my darling husband.
I'm pretty sure that whilst I sit in workshops and peruse the exhibition hall, some small corner of my mind will be worrying about them. Big Red fell off a dining room chair yesterday and though it wasn't a major spill, he's acting weird and I'm wondering if he didn't hurt himself. I'm halfway tempted to call and get him into the doctor before I leave, so I can be absolutely sure he's fine before I take off. Missy Hoohaw is great and the magic of four is upon us, but I still worry that she will not understand why Mommy isn't there. First Drama Queen disappears and now Mommy? That's a lot to process for an almost four-year-old. And what if something happens to Drama Queen?
Can you tell this is the first time I've been away from them?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
In God I Trust, Sometimes
I don't know why I doubt. God has never failed to take care of me. Never. And yet, here I am spazzing out because I can't see how He will provide. I can see Him now, shaking His head and chuckling, a little baffled at my lack of faith.
I see Missy Hoohaw, so dependent on her nightlight, but her faith that an imperfect Mommy will take care of it is steadfast. Even though I have a spotty track record, she believes I will turn on that light, every night, before the dark comes. I want faith like that.
Oh Lord, you are a great and mighty God. Thank you for your provision in my life. I will have faith that all will work out. You always provide exactly what I need and for that I praise You.
I see Missy Hoohaw, so dependent on her nightlight, but her faith that an imperfect Mommy will take care of it is steadfast. Even though I have a spotty track record, she believes I will turn on that light, every night, before the dark comes. I want faith like that.
Oh Lord, you are a great and mighty God. Thank you for your provision in my life. I will have faith that all will work out. You always provide exactly what I need and for that I praise You.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Poor Me
I. Am. Freaking. Out.
Thanks to Dell, B of A and Schmaiser, I have no money. None. Not a single red cent. And hello? I am supposed to go to San Francisco on Thursday!!!
How much do you think I could sell one of my children for?
Thanks to Dell, B of A and Schmaiser, I have no money. None. Not a single red cent. And hello? I am supposed to go to San Francisco on Thursday!!!
How much do you think I could sell one of my children for?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Great News
One of my favorite internet reads, The Sneeze, is back. He's been gone for a long while and has been sorely missed. Go check him out in a few days, once he's had time to get some stuff up, or peruse his archives. I highly recommend the Steve, Don't Eat It! series. Middle school gross out humor at it's very best.
Not-So-Fun Monday
I have to get this out of the way. Two more days and Jenny will be here! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
That being said, my house is an absolute disaster. Not just messy, but pretty dirty as well. It's been a looong time since the floor was mopped and the carpet is crunchy. That can't be good. Especially when company's coming. I'm organizing my time today. Figuring out what must be done, when it can be done and how much the children can undo them before Wednesday afternoon.
Somewhere in there, Big Red is getting his stitches out and Andrea will come to swim with her two boys. Whooo! I also need to bake some bread and as usual, do a metric bootie-load of laundry. On the plus side, this should keep me plenty busy, so I don't have time to eat what I shouldn't.
That being said, my house is an absolute disaster. Not just messy, but pretty dirty as well. It's been a looong time since the floor was mopped and the carpet is crunchy. That can't be good. Especially when company's coming. I'm organizing my time today. Figuring out what must be done, when it can be done and how much the children can undo them before Wednesday afternoon.
Somewhere in there, Big Red is getting his stitches out and Andrea will come to swim with her two boys. Whooo! I also need to bake some bread and as usual, do a metric bootie-load of laundry. On the plus side, this should keep me plenty busy, so I don't have time to eat what I shouldn't.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Violated
Last night, I tried to get online to log my dinner. That's right, I have to report every bit of food I put in my mouth. It's a party, y'all. But that's not the point of this post.
When I opened my internet, I got what appeared to be an anti-spyware advertisement, but you couldn't close it. It was running a "free" scan and every time I tried to close it a new window would pop up. The buttons allowed me to continue the scan or purchase a license for this program. There was not a "No Thanks" button. When I tried to get customer support info, there was none. I was getting a little panicky.
So we called Dell. Dell has us by the short hairs, people. I need my internet. I need my computer. I can't afford to say "Screw you guys, I'm buying an Apple." Though I will, my pretties. Someday, I will. Dell sells us a $250 plan, where they remove the virus and we may call on them 4 more times, in the event this happens again. They also sold us an $80 Norton Antivirus. Because, in case you didn't know, I am rolling in dough! Rich! Rich! Rich!
No, I'm not. I am poor. But $330 wouldn't buy a new computer or restart my internet, so there you go. Jenny, I really hope you want to do cheap things in SF!
When I opened my internet, I got what appeared to be an anti-spyware advertisement, but you couldn't close it. It was running a "free" scan and every time I tried to close it a new window would pop up. The buttons allowed me to continue the scan or purchase a license for this program. There was not a "No Thanks" button. When I tried to get customer support info, there was none. I was getting a little panicky.
So we called Dell. Dell has us by the short hairs, people. I need my internet. I need my computer. I can't afford to say "Screw you guys, I'm buying an Apple." Though I will, my pretties. Someday, I will. Dell sells us a $250 plan, where they remove the virus and we may call on them 4 more times, in the event this happens again. They also sold us an $80 Norton Antivirus. Because, in case you didn't know, I am rolling in dough! Rich! Rich! Rich!
No, I'm not. I am poor. But $330 wouldn't buy a new computer or restart my internet, so there you go. Jenny, I really hope you want to do cheap things in SF!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Love Thursday, Delayed
This was planned for Thursday, but obviously, events there took precedence.
Love is deodorant. I know, that seems a little silly and maybe even a little obvious. But when your husband spends all day in a large garage, cooled only by swamp coolers in 100+ degree heat, it matters.
Mr. Clairol keeps a stick of deodorant in his tool box, so that when he comes home and gives me a hug and a kiss, he doesn't stink to high heaven. It's ridiculous how much that touches me, but it's a small little way that he shows me I matter. It's inspired me to find small things that I can do for him. Things like sticking a beer or a can of Mountain Dew in the freezer when he calls to say he's on his way home. Or feeding the dog in the morning, so he doesn't have to. Or even staying in bed for a few minutes to cuddle, instead of leaping out and racing to the shower before Big Red wakes up.
Love is in the little things.
Love is deodorant. I know, that seems a little silly and maybe even a little obvious. But when your husband spends all day in a large garage, cooled only by swamp coolers in 100+ degree heat, it matters.
Mr. Clairol keeps a stick of deodorant in his tool box, so that when he comes home and gives me a hug and a kiss, he doesn't stink to high heaven. It's ridiculous how much that touches me, but it's a small little way that he shows me I matter. It's inspired me to find small things that I can do for him. Things like sticking a beer or a can of Mountain Dew in the freezer when he calls to say he's on his way home. Or feeding the dog in the morning, so he doesn't have to. Or even staying in bed for a few minutes to cuddle, instead of leaping out and racing to the shower before Big Red wakes up.
Love is in the little things.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Best Day Ever!
I was so close. SO CLOSE! A mere 13 days away. Big Red almost made it to his second birthday without major medical attention.
I decided to take them to the library today, for preschool story time. Harmless right? It's not like I'm letting them jump off the swing set or climb the wood pile. We got there early (mistake number 1!) and the kids were running around, burning off some energy. Big Red runs toward the door, trips and bangs his head against the door. I walk over, pick him up and say my standard boo-boo line, "S'okay, no blood no penalty."
Except, there was blood. A lot of it. Well, shit.
I grabbed the first aid kit out of the diaper bag (yes, it has come to that) and swabbed the cut with some bactine-soaked cotton pads. Once the blood was wiped away, I could see how deep the cut was. I then mentally upgraded from cut to gash.
The moms, none of whom I knew in the slightest, clustered around me gasped. Several told me that he was going to need stitches. Iturned around and bitch slapped the lot of them agreed and bundled the kids back to the car.
Props to Missy Hoohaw: She didn't whine about not going to the library, didn't cry, didn't make a peep, just grabbed to book bag and followed me. Those with kids understand what a precious gift that is.
So we went home, called Schmaiser, cancelled his hair appointment (how on the ball was I???) and let Mr. Clairol know what was going on. Schmaiser told us we needed to go to the ER (shit, shit, shit) and so I gathered my kids, my vodka and my courage and set off. I braced us for the worst, explaining to Missy what I suspected the doctor would do and that while it might seem scary, it was going to help Red get better.
This is where I get all sentimental and completely reverse my stand on Schmaiser. They were awesome. It didn't even matter that I didn't get Dr. Kovach or a reasonable facsimile, though Schmaiser? Would it kill you to hire some hotties? Just sayin'. We were taken right in, the receptionist brought us crayons, coloring books and stickers for both kids and we saw the doctor within 45 minutes of being there. He was very nice, explained everything, related to both kids and me, everything I want in my emergency medical care. The nurse, intern and nursing student who assisted with the procedure (THE STITCHES, OH MY GOD!!!!!) were delightful.
After the administration of a lidocaine gel, which Red protested mightily, thank-you very much, the intern and nursing student came in to irrigate the wound. Intern says to me, "I think we may need to papoose him. Do you think he'll squirm?"
"Um, yeah. He's two, they tend to do that." Honest to God, it didn't sound as bitchy when I said it. I grabbed the sheet from the foot of the bed and wrapped Red up so his arms were immobile. He loved it. Not. I looked at the intern, waiting for the next set of instructions and his jaw was on the floor.
"I have seriously never seen anyone do that so fast. You are a hard-core mom." At least I think that's what he said. I could barely hear, for Red's bellowing. Let the irrigation begin. I obviously took him off guard, because he needed to go get towels. WHAT? You don't bring towels to a frickin' irrigation??? Kovach would have had the towels there. You know he would have.
The intern was freaking out. Apparently, he hates to hear kids cry. It breaks his heart. Grow a set, doc, or find a new field. Ya ain't handing out lollipops here, you know? I joked that being a mom hardens the heart and he sort of laughed and sort of decided he was scared of me. Wise decision, my young intern friend. Irrigation finished, he then left the room and the doctor came in.
We re-papoosed Red, which let me tell you, was a party, and he screamed and cried and hollered the entire time. Not that I blame him. I wanted to do a little screaming and crying myself. Instead, I crooned reassurances to him as I held him down (yet more fuel for therapy) and comforted Missy, who was in a corner, whimpering. In the middle of this, the young nursing student turns to me and says, "You make this look so easy." If my hands hadn't been full, I would have hugged the child and told her to get an IUD. Because I really, really wanted to be in the corner with my three year old, whimpering.
More Props for Missy: That kid was amazing. She maintained beautifully during the entire ordeal. Every person I came across told me how great my kids were and what a fantastic mom I must be. I never hear that (in the real world), so I was gratified beyond belief. Not that it made it worth it or anything. I would take being told I'm a lousy mom to three brats if Red could not have a big gash in his head. No one's offering that though, so I'll take the kudos.
We all survived. Red fell asleep on the way home. Missy reveled in a rare Happy Meal and lemonade. I drowned my sorrows in a 32 oz. Sweet Tea (they totally aren't kidding about the sweet. 31 oz of that shit is sugar). I did not eat McDonald's food though. So that is a victory. Because if that wasn't a day to stress eat, I don't know what would be.
Red's fine. Three stitches, right by the hairline. Missy's fine, no nightmares yet, but the night is young. I'm doing surprisingly well. Congratulating myself for not crying, fainting, panicking. I was on my game today and that turned out to be a good thing. I'm even planning on trying story time next week. Though we won't be there early.
And I was kidding about the vodka. I'm more of a whiskey girl. I think I can actually hear David shrieking from here. I am not a big ole lesbian!!! Not that there's anything wrong with that...
I decided to take them to the library today, for preschool story time. Harmless right? It's not like I'm letting them jump off the swing set or climb the wood pile. We got there early (mistake number 1!) and the kids were running around, burning off some energy. Big Red runs toward the door, trips and bangs his head against the door. I walk over, pick him up and say my standard boo-boo line, "S'okay, no blood no penalty."
Except, there was blood. A lot of it. Well, shit.
I grabbed the first aid kit out of the diaper bag (yes, it has come to that) and swabbed the cut with some bactine-soaked cotton pads. Once the blood was wiped away, I could see how deep the cut was. I then mentally upgraded from cut to gash.
The moms, none of whom I knew in the slightest, clustered around me gasped. Several told me that he was going to need stitches. I
Props to Missy Hoohaw: She didn't whine about not going to the library, didn't cry, didn't make a peep, just grabbed to book bag and followed me. Those with kids understand what a precious gift that is.
So we went home, called Schmaiser, cancelled his hair appointment (how on the ball was I???) and let Mr. Clairol know what was going on. Schmaiser told us we needed to go to the ER (shit, shit, shit) and so I gathered my kids, my vodka and my courage and set off. I braced us for the worst, explaining to Missy what I suspected the doctor would do and that while it might seem scary, it was going to help Red get better.
This is where I get all sentimental and completely reverse my stand on Schmaiser. They were awesome. It didn't even matter that I didn't get Dr. Kovach or a reasonable facsimile, though Schmaiser? Would it kill you to hire some hotties? Just sayin'. We were taken right in, the receptionist brought us crayons, coloring books and stickers for both kids and we saw the doctor within 45 minutes of being there. He was very nice, explained everything, related to both kids and me, everything I want in my emergency medical care. The nurse, intern and nursing student who assisted with the procedure (THE STITCHES, OH MY GOD!!!!!) were delightful.
After the administration of a lidocaine gel, which Red protested mightily, thank-you very much, the intern and nursing student came in to irrigate the wound. Intern says to me, "I think we may need to papoose him. Do you think he'll squirm?"
"Um, yeah. He's two, they tend to do that." Honest to God, it didn't sound as bitchy when I said it. I grabbed the sheet from the foot of the bed and wrapped Red up so his arms were immobile. He loved it. Not. I looked at the intern, waiting for the next set of instructions and his jaw was on the floor.
"I have seriously never seen anyone do that so fast. You are a hard-core mom." At least I think that's what he said. I could barely hear, for Red's bellowing. Let the irrigation begin. I obviously took him off guard, because he needed to go get towels. WHAT? You don't bring towels to a frickin' irrigation??? Kovach would have had the towels there. You know he would have.
The intern was freaking out. Apparently, he hates to hear kids cry. It breaks his heart. Grow a set, doc, or find a new field. Ya ain't handing out lollipops here, you know? I joked that being a mom hardens the heart and he sort of laughed and sort of decided he was scared of me. Wise decision, my young intern friend. Irrigation finished, he then left the room and the doctor came in.
We re-papoosed Red, which let me tell you, was a party, and he screamed and cried and hollered the entire time. Not that I blame him. I wanted to do a little screaming and crying myself. Instead, I crooned reassurances to him as I held him down (yet more fuel for therapy) and comforted Missy, who was in a corner, whimpering. In the middle of this, the young nursing student turns to me and says, "You make this look so easy." If my hands hadn't been full, I would have hugged the child and told her to get an IUD. Because I really, really wanted to be in the corner with my three year old, whimpering.
More Props for Missy: That kid was amazing. She maintained beautifully during the entire ordeal. Every person I came across told me how great my kids were and what a fantastic mom I must be. I never hear that (in the real world), so I was gratified beyond belief. Not that it made it worth it or anything. I would take being told I'm a lousy mom to three brats if Red could not have a big gash in his head. No one's offering that though, so I'll take the kudos.
We all survived. Red fell asleep on the way home. Missy reveled in a rare Happy Meal and lemonade. I drowned my sorrows in a 32 oz. Sweet Tea (they totally aren't kidding about the sweet. 31 oz of that shit is sugar). I did not eat McDonald's food though. So that is a victory. Because if that wasn't a day to stress eat, I don't know what would be.
Red's fine. Three stitches, right by the hairline. Missy's fine, no nightmares yet, but the night is young. I'm doing surprisingly well. Congratulating myself for not crying, fainting, panicking. I was on my game today and that turned out to be a good thing. I'm even planning on trying story time next week. Though we won't be there early.
And I was kidding about the vodka. I'm more of a whiskey girl. I think I can actually hear David shrieking from here. I am not a big ole lesbian!!! Not that there's anything wrong with that...
Things I Like
* When both my kids sleep in or nap at the same time
*Days of Our Lives
* Books by Lee Child, JD Robb (Nora Roberts), Janet Evanovich, Greg Iles and Lisa Kleypas
*Ripe watermelon
*Cooking
*Blogging
*Finishing a chapter in my book
*The first dive into my pool
*Picking fruit and vegetables from my garden
*Watching my husband play with our kids
*Watching my husband fix a car (so, so sexy and I don't know why.)
*Drama Queen's laughter as she talks to her friends
*Fireworks
*New episodes of My Life on the D List
*Dipped cones from the Dairy Queen
*Seeing my family devour the dinner I made and ask for more
*Putting away the very last piece of laundry
*Pulling fresh cookies out of the oven
*Decorating the kitchen for a birthday morning
*Pushing Missy and Red on the swings
*Buying a new pair of shoes
*A lower number on the scale
What do you like?
*Days of Our Lives
* Books by Lee Child, JD Robb (Nora Roberts), Janet Evanovich, Greg Iles and Lisa Kleypas
*Ripe watermelon
*Cooking
*Blogging
*Finishing a chapter in my book
*The first dive into my pool
*Picking fruit and vegetables from my garden
*Watching my husband play with our kids
*Watching my husband fix a car (so, so sexy and I don't know why.)
*Drama Queen's laughter as she talks to her friends
*Fireworks
*New episodes of My Life on the D List
*Dipped cones from the Dairy Queen
*Seeing my family devour the dinner I made and ask for more
*Putting away the very last piece of laundry
*Pulling fresh cookies out of the oven
*Decorating the kitchen for a birthday morning
*Pushing Missy and Red on the swings
*Buying a new pair of shoes
*A lower number on the scale
What do you like?
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Wordle Wednesday
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Limping, Again
One day, I will walk without a limp. I swear it. I'm not sure when that day will come, but my faith is strong and I am stalwart.
It's a beauty, ain't it? And yes it hurts. Like a mother f&*%er (I love me a versatile swear word). This is three days after the incident. Gorgeous. Thank-you, my son. Don't be expecting much for your birthday.
My previous ankle injury is healing rather more slowly than anticipated. It still feels a bit gimpy and no, that isn't an excuse to avoid the elliptical. Every once in a while, I come down on it wrong and it's excruciating. It's fun. Like roulette, only with pain instead of money. Yay!
But for the most part, it's getting better and for some reason, Big Red had a problem with that. I don't know why, he's a boy, I can't explain it. But his horns were peeking through on Saturday. I was chatting with Dad, standing by his recliner and drinking a glass of wine. Big Red was investigating the wheel chair, and finally figured out how it turns on. BINGO! Houston, we have lift off!
Now let me tell you, my dad's wheel chair is pretty cool. Fully automated, it has a hair-trigger joystick (David, quit thinking dirty thoughts.) and lights, etc. It's also heavy as a mother f&*%er. (Where did this come from? Apparently, mother f&*%ers are pretty heavy. Have you weighed your dad today?)
Sorry, tangent. Blame it on chocolate deprivation or maybe the fact that it is 104 degrees outside today. Hotter than a mother f&*%er. Wait...mother f&*%ers are hot and heavy? Hot and heavy??? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)
So Big Red fired up the chair and drove it straight into the back of my uninjured leg. How's that for a big climax to a long story? Feel cheated? Look at this...
It's a beauty, ain't it? And yes it hurts. Like a mother f&*%er (I love me a versatile swear word). This is three days after the incident. Gorgeous. Thank-you, my son. Don't be expecting much for your birthday.
Ready to EXCEL!
In 8 days, Jenny will be here. Unless my obsessive planning and scheduling drive her bat-shit before she gets here. I hope not...that would really fuck up the schedule.
Goodness, Miss Potty-Lips! Kiss your mother with that mouth?
Sorry. I have no idea why, but lately my language has been atrocious. Maybe it's chocolate-deprivation.
It started innocently enough. BlogHer sent me a pre-conference guide. Now for months after we signed up, I was checking their site every single day, to see if an agenda had been posted. It took me a month and a half to get tired of seeing Agenda Coming Soon! (I am nothing if not tenacious), I gave up. Then a couple of weeks ago, I got a pre-conference guide. I checked and an agenda had been posted! What's more, there are makeovers and massages! OH BOY! So, I got signed up for a massage and in doing that, I started examining the schedule of workshops. It snowballed from there.
Now I have a spreadsheet schedule, complete with preferred workshops and second choices, walking directions from out hotel to the conference site, Bart schedules, possible activities to do during breaks, etc. And here's the weird thing. If we don't follow this, I totally won't care. I just really love making the schedule and fondling all the possibilities with my hot, sticky hands. Plus, I really like spreadsheets. I put my packing list on a spread sheet. I seriously make up things to put on spread sheets. Menus, household expenses, chore lists...it's a little sick.
So be prepared, Jenny. I'm doing my research. Ducks are being put in rows. Actually, in cells. Because who knew, but ducks love spread sheets too!
Goodness, Miss Potty-Lips! Kiss your mother with that mouth?
Sorry. I have no idea why, but lately my language has been atrocious. Maybe it's chocolate-deprivation.
It started innocently enough. BlogHer sent me a pre-conference guide. Now for months after we signed up, I was checking their site every single day, to see if an agenda had been posted. It took me a month and a half to get tired of seeing Agenda Coming Soon! (I am nothing if not tenacious), I gave up. Then a couple of weeks ago, I got a pre-conference guide. I checked and an agenda had been posted! What's more, there are makeovers and massages! OH BOY! So, I got signed up for a massage and in doing that, I started examining the schedule of workshops. It snowballed from there.
Now I have a spreadsheet schedule, complete with preferred workshops and second choices, walking directions from out hotel to the conference site, Bart schedules, possible activities to do during breaks, etc. And here's the weird thing. If we don't follow this, I totally won't care. I just really love making the schedule and fondling all the possibilities with my hot, sticky hands. Plus, I really like spreadsheets. I put my packing list on a spread sheet. I seriously make up things to put on spread sheets. Menus, household expenses, chore lists...it's a little sick.
So be prepared, Jenny. I'm doing my research. Ducks are being put in rows. Actually, in cells. Because who knew, but ducks love spread sheets too!
Monday, July 07, 2008
Day Two
Well, I did it. I made smart food choices all day, got my food tracked, played with my kids in the pool for an hour, and didn't spaz out when Mr. Clairol started eating peanut butter cups while we watched a movie.
I did, however, tell him I was fighting the urge to wrestle him to the floor and take them away from him. He was instantly apologetic. He even took the bag out of the fridge and put them in his backpack, so they went to work with him. That's good. I was tired of their tiny little voices taunting me.
And it's my own fault. I bought the little buggers. But they're gone now.
I don't want this to become a weight loss blog, but since it is looking like this will be a big part of my life, be prepared to hear about it from time to time. Most of my accountability is over at Spark People, and I'm doing brief posts on my page there.
BTW, Kashi Go LEAN! Crunch tastes slightly better with light vanilla soy milk. Maybe the hippies are on to something.
I did, however, tell him I was fighting the urge to wrestle him to the floor and take them away from him. He was instantly apologetic. He even took the bag out of the fridge and put them in his backpack, so they went to work with him. That's good. I was tired of their tiny little voices taunting me.
And it's my own fault. I bought the little buggers. But they're gone now.
I don't want this to become a weight loss blog, but since it is looking like this will be a big part of my life, be prepared to hear about it from time to time. Most of my accountability is over at Spark People, and I'm doing brief posts on my page there.
BTW, Kashi Go LEAN! Crunch tastes slightly better with light vanilla soy milk. Maybe the hippies are on to something.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Wake-Up Call
Yesterday, I got slapped in the face. Not literally, but it might as well have been. Literally would have hurt less.
We were at my parents and I forgot my suit, so I scurried down the hill to Tar-Jay, trying to find a cheap suit to leave at my folks. That in itself was an adventure. Finding plus size clothes (without spending $150 per outfit) has been getting harder and harder. Tar-Jay is steadily shrinking their plus-size section, blending it with the maternity, which what the fuck is up with that? Are you call pregnant women fat? Or that a substantial woman, such as myself, looks pregnant? It's enough to make me get wee bit snippy.
Sorry, that was a tangent. I found a suit and while I was making my way to the register, I heard a teenager begging her mom for Starbucks (now conveniently located in the Tar-jay!) and I guess the girl had been at it for a while, because the mom just lost her shit all together.
"NO! Nonononononononono. You don't need Starbucks. That is exactly what is wrong with America. People eating crap they don't need. Do you want to look like that?"
Huh? Oh no, surely not. No one is that appallingly rude and insensitive. I turned slowly and sure enough, in shooting Matrix-style, close-up fashion, was her finger, pointed right at me. RIGHT AT ME!
So I sauntered over and crammed my size 20 swim suit (complete with hanger) down her skinny, salon- blond throat, then bought her daughter a Venti Caramel Machiatto with full fat milk, double syrup shots and extra whip.
I kid. What I did do is solemnly promise myself that I would force myself to endure a double helping of Richard Simmons Sweating to the Oldies if I cried, then said to her in a calm and level voice, "No, ma'am. What is wrong with America is ignorant, self-involved trash who feel they can say anything rude, nasty thing that crosses their mind, with no thought to how it might make someone else feel. You, lady, are what is wrong with America."
I'm pretty sure that she rolled her eyes as I turned away, but I didn't want to know, since getting arrested for assault would have really put a damper on the holiday weekend.
I get it people. I don't walk around, self-deluded, saying, I'm a big, beautiful woman and this fat is sexy as hell. I know you don't want to look like me. I'm fat, not stupid. But there are feelings buried in there. Your loathing can't possible match what I have for myself. I don't need you to point it out. I'm a person, not an object lesson. And I'll tell you another thing. That kid will be lucky if she has half my heart, compassion, wit and intelligence. She'll be something to reckon with if she possesses that, no matter what size she may be.
That being said, it's probably time to shed this weight, once and for all. I took a page from Sleeping Mommy's book and joined Spark People. I ate Kashi Go Lean Crunch (Hippie!) for breakfast and measured the 1% milk. Later today, it's off to the grocery store to stock up on healthy food. Good thing that garden is producing. The way it's looking, I'll be sucking down zucchini as fast as it ripens. (Um, did that sound really dirty to anyone else?)
Here's to taking off 100 lbs.
We were at my parents and I forgot my suit, so I scurried down the hill to Tar-Jay, trying to find a cheap suit to leave at my folks. That in itself was an adventure. Finding plus size clothes (without spending $150 per outfit) has been getting harder and harder. Tar-Jay is steadily shrinking their plus-size section, blending it with the maternity, which what the fuck is up with that? Are you call pregnant women fat? Or that a substantial woman, such as myself, looks pregnant? It's enough to make me get wee bit snippy.
Sorry, that was a tangent. I found a suit and while I was making my way to the register, I heard a teenager begging her mom for Starbucks (now conveniently located in the Tar-jay!) and I guess the girl had been at it for a while, because the mom just lost her shit all together.
"NO! Nonononononononono. You don't need Starbucks. That is exactly what is wrong with America. People eating crap they don't need. Do you want to look like that?"
Huh? Oh no, surely not. No one is that appallingly rude and insensitive. I turned slowly and sure enough, in shooting Matrix-style, close-up fashion, was her finger, pointed right at me. RIGHT AT ME!
So I sauntered over and crammed my size 20 swim suit (complete with hanger) down her skinny, salon- blond throat, then bought her daughter a Venti Caramel Machiatto with full fat milk, double syrup shots and extra whip.
I kid. What I did do is solemnly promise myself that I would force myself to endure a double helping of Richard Simmons Sweating to the Oldies if I cried, then said to her in a calm and level voice, "No, ma'am. What is wrong with America is ignorant, self-involved trash who feel they can say anything rude, nasty thing that crosses their mind, with no thought to how it might make someone else feel. You, lady, are what is wrong with America."
I'm pretty sure that she rolled her eyes as I turned away, but I didn't want to know, since getting arrested for assault would have really put a damper on the holiday weekend.
I get it people. I don't walk around, self-deluded, saying, I'm a big, beautiful woman and this fat is sexy as hell. I know you don't want to look like me. I'm fat, not stupid. But there are feelings buried in there. Your loathing can't possible match what I have for myself. I don't need you to point it out. I'm a person, not an object lesson. And I'll tell you another thing. That kid will be lucky if she has half my heart, compassion, wit and intelligence. She'll be something to reckon with if she possesses that, no matter what size she may be.
That being said, it's probably time to shed this weight, once and for all. I took a page from Sleeping Mommy's book and joined Spark People. I ate Kashi Go Lean Crunch (Hippie!) for breakfast and measured the 1% milk. Later today, it's off to the grocery store to stock up on healthy food. Good thing that garden is producing. The way it's looking, I'll be sucking down zucchini as fast as it ripens. (Um, did that sound really dirty to anyone else?)
Here's to taking off 100 lbs.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Long Overdue Props
Many of you have mentioned my darling new background and I will say thank-you for noticing. I've been so distracted by kids, dogs, gardens, camping, etc. that I didn't really give it a proper introduction.
About a month ago, I pulled up Andrea's blog and she had the most gorgeous background going on. Very chic. Unlike some people who shall remain nameless (me), she wrote a little blurb about her new look and where she got it. She is a far better person than I. I'm okay with that.
I, of course, clicked on her link and found myself at The Cutest Blog on the Block. Dumb name, but lots of wonderful backgrounds, ranging from sophisticated and lush, to homey and scrapbooky.
Yes, scrapbooky is totally a word.
The loveliness that is my blog is entirely due to the good people at TCBOTB. Go and check them out.
Hope your Fourth was all that is sparkly and magnificent. I'm writing this a couple of days ahead, so, as you read this, I'm probably getting my hair cut, listening to my aging hippie hairdresser wax poetic about Hot August Nights. Yeah, he's a car guy too. Gotta love it. Ours was fantastic. We caught Missy's case of strep at the tail end. By this morning, she was one hundred percent better. (Which makes me wonder how long she suffered with a sore throat before saying something. This kids stoicism is amazing to behold. The only time she whines is when she pretends to be sick.) So it was dinner and swimming with friends, a fireworks show... it gets no better.
About a month ago, I pulled up Andrea's blog and she had the most gorgeous background going on. Very chic. Unlike some people who shall remain nameless (me), she wrote a little blurb about her new look and where she got it. She is a far better person than I. I'm okay with that.
I, of course, clicked on her link and found myself at The Cutest Blog on the Block. Dumb name, but lots of wonderful backgrounds, ranging from sophisticated and lush, to homey and scrapbooky.
Yes, scrapbooky is totally a word.
The loveliness that is my blog is entirely due to the good people at TCBOTB. Go and check them out.
Hope your Fourth was all that is sparkly and magnificent. I'm writing this a couple of days ahead, so, as you read this, I'm probably getting my hair cut, listening to my aging hippie hairdresser wax poetic about Hot August Nights. Yeah, he's a car guy too. Gotta love it. Ours was fantastic. We caught Missy's case of strep at the tail end. By this morning, she was one hundred percent better. (Which makes me wonder how long she suffered with a sore throat before saying something. This kids stoicism is amazing to behold. The only time she whines is when she pretends to be sick.) So it was dinner and swimming with friends, a fireworks show... it gets no better.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Excuse Me, Did You Just Say Strep?
Yes. Yes, the sweet young doctor that saw us yesterday morning, did say strep. Fan-frickin'-tastic.
I should have known. For two days, Missy's been complaining of a sore throat. She was eating and drinking, so I wasn't all too concerned. She's a total drama-mama anyway, so I tend to write off the complaints. Imagine how awesome it's going to be when she's 9-10.
Turns out, she really did have a sore throat. I took a look and hey! There were pretty little patches and bumps everywhere. It was gorgeous. Off to Schmaiser we went. Theboy fully accredited doctor who saw us took one look and said, "Hmmm. This is the youngest case of strep I've ever seen. Normally you don't see it in children this young."
YAY! Missy, you're a medical anomaly! Hooray!
The culture came back quickly and the strep is viral, not bacterial. No antibiotics. Just popsicles, Advil and rest. Oh and don't let Big Red drink from her cups or get too close.
AHAAAAHAAAHAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Whoo. That was funny.
Happy Fourth, everyone.
I should have known. For two days, Missy's been complaining of a sore throat. She was eating and drinking, so I wasn't all too concerned. She's a total drama-mama anyway, so I tend to write off the complaints. Imagine how awesome it's going to be when she's 9-10.
Turns out, she really did have a sore throat. I took a look and hey! There were pretty little patches and bumps everywhere. It was gorgeous. Off to Schmaiser we went. The
YAY! Missy, you're a medical anomaly! Hooray!
The culture came back quickly and the strep is viral, not bacterial. No antibiotics. Just popsicles, Advil and rest. Oh and don't let Big Red drink from her cups or get too close.
AHAAAAHAAAHAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Whoo. That was funny.
Happy Fourth, everyone.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
I'M SOOOO EXCITED!!!!
Approximately 12 days, 1 hour and 15 minutes until Jenny is here! YAHOOOOOOO! I'm making plans...my parents want to see her, so it's dinner with them on Wednesday night. Sorry, Jenny Jean. It's non-negotiable. If you're way lucky, that God of All Awesomeness, WannaBen, will grace us with his presence.
Then we're off the San Francisco. Taking Bart for the first time. Should be quite the adventure.
Look for us at BlogHer '08. We'll be the ones laughing out fool heads off!
Then we're off the San Francisco. Taking Bart for the first time. Should be quite the adventure.
Look for us at BlogHer '08. We'll be the ones laughing out fool heads off!
Zuchinella, the Garden Goddess
Remember this?
Well, take another look, y'all!
Yeah! That's right, bitches. I am the garden goddess and you will bow to worship. Okay, sorry, never mind. I got a little full of myself, but I'm back now. But oh, my good golly, I am loving this plot of land. It's my own personal Eden.
Carrots. Yummy!
Zucchini. One of these leaves could cover my very large, junk packin' boo-tay. I've picked 6 so far, including one so large it could double as an alarming D battery powered bedroom appliance, if you get my drift. A big dildo, if you didn't.
A baby pumpkin. He has six brothers and sisters.
A teeny, tiny baby watermelon. One of five that I counted. I am giddy, folks. Kind of pathetic how easy I am, huh.
Eggplant. Ohhhh. This is Japanese Eggplant, which is excellent fried in a garlic powder, flour breading.
The Early Girls. Not so early. But that's women, you know?
The romalitas. These are new to me, so we'll see how they play out.
The yellow pear tomatoes. These are seriously the most delicious tomatoes you will ever put in your mouth. I can't wait for them to ripen.
My Better Boy tomatoes. Better than what, I do not know. Frankly, I think the zucchini ought to be named Better Boy, if you get my drift. See above if you didn't.
The herbs. Just regular cooking herbs. Not "Herb." That's in the secret bed.
And tonight's bounty. The bowl is full of plums. Yeah, I have two plum trees as well. They were here when we bought the house, so I can't really claim credit, but I do enjoy them.
My Better Boy tomatoes. Better than what, I do not know. Frankly, I think the zucchini ought to be named Better Boy, if you get my drift. See above if you didn't.
The herbs. Just regular cooking herbs. Not "Herb." That's in the secret bed.And tonight's bounty. The bowl is full of plums. Yeah, I have two plum trees as well. They were here when we bought the house, so I can't really claim credit, but I do enjoy them. I'm seeing plum jam and zucchini bread in my Christmas baskets this year. And home-canned tomato sauce. 'Cause nothing says "Happy Birthday, Jesus" like marinara in a Mason jar.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
It's All Swirling Colors, Duuuuude
I've never ingested any illicit substances (I know, I find it hard to believe as well) but I imagine that if I had, I might do things like the following under their influence.
During Drama Queen's sixth grade year, she had a friend I'll call J. J was a sweet girl and seemed okay, but she was a little weird and had a martyr complex the size of my ass. (Which is considerable, people.) We carpooled with them and when the year ended, they moved to Oregon. DQ has missed her friend, and enjoys the occasional visit and phone calls.
Let me insert here that while we carpooled, J's mom and I weren't what I'd call friends. We spoke on occasion and she shared a lot with me, but no startling revelations. Nothing she wouldn't let anyone else know.
Yesterday, I got a call from J's mom. It seemed that they were going to be in this month, this week in fact. Unfortunately, most of J's friends are gone, since that is prime vacation time. Soooo, J's mom was wondering if we would be able to host J on a visit, sometime in August? Maybe about a week?
I know, I know. It might seem as if I'm going to complain about pushy people and how dare she invite her child to impose on us for a week. But I'm not. I was absurdly flattered that she would be comfortable enough to ask. Is that weird? Probably. But I like that people are comfortable asking favors from me. I say no when I need to. Even when I don't really want to. But the fact that after a year of no contact, this woman knows that she can ask me to host her child, means something to me.
It means that my walk with Christ is showing on some level. That the hospitality that feels like my spiritual gift is bearing fruit. And that is encouraging, since most days, it feels like my walk is floundering. I'm reading my Bible daily, trying to find time for prayer and meditation, going to church and making connections with other women there. But lately, it feels like going through the motions. I've been a little discouraged.
Until that call. I'm planning the week now. We're starting with a Sunday night sleepover, and I think trips to the mall, movies and water park. Drama Queen just emailed me and told me I am the coolest mom ev-ah! So I have that going for me.
Other things that might make you wonder what the hell I'm smoking:
*I made an appointment to get my hair cut at 6:30 in the morning. Bear in mind that my hairdresser operates out of a shop that is approximately 60 miles away. So I need to leave my house by 5:30. Thank goodness Starbucks is open early. Can you say Cafe Americano, children?
* I'm planning another camping trip. I know.
* Missy and Big Red have birthdays coming up (Big red in a matter of weeks) and I haven't done a single thing to prepare. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Can you say oh shit, children?
*I'm going to BlogHer with a marathon runner and I haven't lost any weight. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've gained some. I need adoughnut carrot.
That's just a small sample of the insanity here. I know you want my life. I'll trade it to you for a box of Hohos. Or maybe some Qualudes.
During Drama Queen's sixth grade year, she had a friend I'll call J. J was a sweet girl and seemed okay, but she was a little weird and had a martyr complex the size of my ass. (Which is considerable, people.) We carpooled with them and when the year ended, they moved to Oregon. DQ has missed her friend, and enjoys the occasional visit and phone calls.
Let me insert here that while we carpooled, J's mom and I weren't what I'd call friends. We spoke on occasion and she shared a lot with me, but no startling revelations. Nothing she wouldn't let anyone else know.
Yesterday, I got a call from J's mom. It seemed that they were going to be in this month, this week in fact. Unfortunately, most of J's friends are gone, since that is prime vacation time. Soooo, J's mom was wondering if we would be able to host J on a visit, sometime in August? Maybe about a week?
I know, I know. It might seem as if I'm going to complain about pushy people and how dare she invite her child to impose on us for a week. But I'm not. I was absurdly flattered that she would be comfortable enough to ask. Is that weird? Probably. But I like that people are comfortable asking favors from me. I say no when I need to. Even when I don't really want to. But the fact that after a year of no contact, this woman knows that she can ask me to host her child, means something to me.
It means that my walk with Christ is showing on some level. That the hospitality that feels like my spiritual gift is bearing fruit. And that is encouraging, since most days, it feels like my walk is floundering. I'm reading my Bible daily, trying to find time for prayer and meditation, going to church and making connections with other women there. But lately, it feels like going through the motions. I've been a little discouraged.
Until that call. I'm planning the week now. We're starting with a Sunday night sleepover, and I think trips to the mall, movies and water park. Drama Queen just emailed me and told me I am the coolest mom ev-ah! So I have that going for me.
Other things that might make you wonder what the hell I'm smoking:
*I made an appointment to get my hair cut at 6:30 in the morning. Bear in mind that my hairdresser operates out of a shop that is approximately 60 miles away. So I need to leave my house by 5:30. Thank goodness Starbucks is open early. Can you say Cafe Americano, children?
* I'm planning another camping trip. I know.
* Missy and Big Red have birthdays coming up (Big red in a matter of weeks) and I haven't done a single thing to prepare. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Can you say oh shit, children?
*I'm going to BlogHer with a marathon runner and I haven't lost any weight. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've gained some. I need a
That's just a small sample of the insanity here. I know you want my life. I'll trade it to you for a box of Hohos. Or maybe some Qualudes.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Breaking News
The day so far? I can sum it up by saying Big Red is eating his Cream of Wheat (food of the gods, people) with his pacifier. I took pictures, but the memory card was in the computer. Damn.
Here's a news flash. My children are spazzes. I wonder where they could have gotten it from???
Here's a news flash. My children are spazzes. I wonder where they could have gotten it from???
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Technorati
I'm Networked!
Welcome to My World
Look At All These BEE-YOU-TEE-FUL People!
Places I Like
Blog Archive
-
►
2009
(198)
-
►
July
(20)
- We'll Call Him Mr. Destructo
- CRASH!
- Bad Karma
- Dino-MITE!
- LAHLLER LAHLLER LAHLLER
- Beware the Angry Wife
- Year Three
- Hello, My Name Is Jennifer And I'm Addicted To Fac...
- He'll Be Getting A Commission
- To Be Read Upon The Birth Of Missy's First Child
- Apply Head To Wall Now
- "Introducing The Hardest Working Band In The World...
-
►
July
(20)
