Monday, November 9, 2009

Dog Days

Yesterday I returned from spending the weekend in Atlanta with one of my best friends (ME), her Dad, and her two lovely (furry) companions. It was a great trip - I had a chance to catch up with ME, get some rest, and find out firsthand just how engaging and intelligent dogs can be.

I am a skeptic when people talk about just how smart their animals are - I have met very few that live up to their hype, and fewer still have managed to impress me.

Enter Jade.

Somewhere during the weekend, ME mentions to me that Jade (furry friend #1) really is very smart, and that she has a 'system' for reclaiming her favorite chair when Lucy (furry friend #2) takes over her spot. Apparently (according to ME), when Jade wants her chair back, she will run to the door and start barking like crazy. This, of course, makes Lucy curious and she comes to the door barking as well... Jade then takes the opportunity to high-tail it back to 'her' chair, thereby tricking Lucy into vacating the prime napping spot.

Sounds very cute, but I was a bit skeptical.
Maybe it was a one-time deal. Did the dog *really* know what she was doing, or did she get lucky once?

She knew what she was doing. Oh yes....

The last morning I was there ME's Dad, Jade, and myself were sitting in the living room when Jade starts to give D a pleading look. The 'conversation' went a little something like this:

J: [pleading look]
D: "You know I'm not going to take you out until you're both down here - go get Lucy."
J: [exasperated look]
Me: "Go get Lucy, Jade, and you can go out. She's upstairs!"
J: [goes to window and begins to bark]
Me: "No, Jade, Lucy's upstairs!"
J: [looks at me pityingly, and stares out the window barking]
L: [trots downstairs to the window and begins barking]
D: "OK, Lucy's here - we can go out now!"
J: [looks at me as if to say "See? I know what I'm doing."]

I swear I saw that dog smirk at me.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

What Happens In Cherokee, Stays In Cherokee.

Last weekend we visited the NC mountains (Cherokee and Bryson City) and had a nice little mini-vacation with the kidlets and our good friend Matt. Things were mostly under control, but as usual there were some blips and humorous moments that cropped up....

Oconaluftee Village (Cherokee, NC) - The blow gun making station
[Upon spying a Cherokee Indian with a partially shaved head, ponytail in back]:

A - "Oooh, I like his hat!"
Me - "That's not a hat, that's his hair."

*Snickers are heard from both the people milling around nearby and the two Cherokee gentlemen working on their blow guns. Luckily the man sporting the 'hat' had a sense of humor and readily agreed to help out when A's Dad suggested that she might like to have a similar 'hat'. LOL!

After our lovely morning touring Oconaluftee and walking the trails, my 3 year-old starts looking decidedly worse for wear. Normally skipping a nap is no big deal, but it looks as if the trails might have done her in. We were due to get on a train in 1.5 hours, though... no time for a siesta.

Being the good parent that I am, I decide that all E needs is a good old-fashioned dose of caffeine, and she'll be good to go!

Back at the hotel:
P - "Here Ella, drink some of this." [hands 3 year-old a 20oz Mtn. Dew]
E - "OK!" [said a touch TOO gleefully]
E - "Gulp. GULP. GULP."

We barely had time to get back to the hotel room before realizing that the entire Mountain Dew is GONE. GONE. I got 3 sips from the bottle.

Well, OK. You might be thinking "Isn't that what you wanted? Surely she was wide awake then!"

Um, no. Not so much.

Less than five minutes after downing the entire bottle of soda, said three year-old looks at me with a wide-eyed, frightened look on her face. That's right, she peed every last drop of that soda right out... on the hotel carpet. It was all over her pants, shirt, and her shoes were SOAKED.

E is now the proud owner of a lovely pair of black suede Minnetonka Moccasins, the only shoes we could manage to procure for her on the reservation after her sneakers (the only shoes we had with us) received their unscheduled 'shower'.

(Annnnd... I just realized that the bolded initials in that last conversation spell PEE. How very fitting. *snicker* Yeah, yeah... I'm 12.)

If there's one lesson we can all learn from Ella, it's this: Don't walk barefoot on hotel carpet. Ever.

Monday, September 14, 2009

A World Without Mommies

A: "There are no Mommas on this show." [said musingly] "Why not?"
Me: "Well, I really don't know why there are no Mommas."
A: "Who feeds them? Who takes care of them? ...Oh well, I guess they just have to take care of themselves." [weary sad sigh]

Sometimes I wonder if my kids even notice me.
I guess that's normal... especially when you spend your days running errands, cleaning and serving meals. Those days stretch into months, and the months stretch into years, and you think if you serve one more piece of string cheese you just might puke.

Sometimes I don't notice myself, so it's not far-fetched to believe at times that my children see right through me (until they want dessert, a treat, or some injustice rectified) as well.

Conversations like that (had after watching "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on the way home from school) talk me down from my ledge. I don't mean that in a desperate, suicidal way... more in the "I'm crazy with monotony and unappreciation" way that Mothers sometimes feel.

Sometimes a five year-old can know just what to say to make you realize that your existence is noticed, noted, and appreciated in a basic primal way that means everything.

To my daughter, a world without Mommies is a sad, weary place.
I have to agree with her.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Classical Liberalism

This post is about politics, and pretty much completely deviates from the usual bantering tone of my blog. If politics bore you to tears or you just can't live with knowing that this entry contains no references to poop or potty humor, well... you might want to just skip right on past this one, mmmkay? :D

So, yesterday I randomly got into a low-key political discussion with a Facebook friend (and family member) of mine. We don't know each other very well, and aren't familiar with each other's politics, so it was interesting to note our similarities and differences.

Before I go further, I feel that I should point out one thing:
The idea of 'politics' has always overwhelmed me. The political spectrum is so huge, and there are seemingly endless things to consider. It is a struggle to even decide just where you stand sometimes; and that's before adding all the individual issues and candidate stances into the mix. So, I've largely shied away from taking a hardcore stance, feeling that there was no label that quite fit where I stand....

So, back to the Facebook discussion...
I posted this (in response to the question regarding whether I lean to the right):

"I'm neither liberal nor conservative. I guess the best way to put it is to say that I'm socially liberal & fiscally conservative. I also believe that most of the governing should be left to individual states. The federal gov't has their hands in way too much, IMO."

Another individual responded that this made me sound like a classic libertarian. Hmmm. Interesting... I hadn't thought of that. Of course I had to look into it - it would actually be nice to discover that I 'fit in' somewhere in the political world, rather than being the adrift Independent with no real political comrades.

When looking into it further, I came across this:

Wikipedia has this to say about Classical Liberalism:

"Classical liberals subscribe to a very basic and universal understanding of the world and the rights of all humans. Classical Liberals believe in private property, free markets, economic competition, freedom from coercion, limited government (all economic freedom), the rule of law, and individual rights (natural rights is also used). These principals apply to all people, of all faiths, cultures, societies, ethnicities, and histories, and it is stated that all peoples are capable of achieving liberal government and liberal societies, not just western cultures. (Classical) liberals prefer a laissez-faire style of government with a microeconomic focus and understanding of economic operations.

Classical liberals reject wealth transfers (though admire the goal of helping the needy), tariffs or other trade barriers such as quotas, regulated markets (also known as a mixed economy ), capital controls, and wage and price controls. As a general rule these macroeconomic policies are considered by them as reducing the general welfare of society. Social security and tariffs, for example, are viewed by Milton Friedman as perverse wealth transfers, meaning wealth transfers from poor to rich. Hayek and Friedman also believed that economic freedom would help build and protect political and civil freedoms, while a loss in economic freedom meant a loss in civil and political freedoms. "

Well, wow.
This pretty much describes me to a fine point!

Don't interfere with people's individual/natural rights.
Limit the hand of the federal government.
Don't take my money! (Even though I agree that helping the needy is noble, I don't necessarily want to fund it)

So, hmmm. Perhaps I have a place in the political world after all. :)

Friday, August 28, 2009

Dithering, Dallying, and Demonizing

"I Don't FEEL good. Because you are MEAN TO ME!"

I'm mean.
The meanest Mommy around, if you take my 3 year-old's word for it.

Ah... our day was going so smoothly and nicely - I should have known better. The saying "If it seems too good to be true, it probably is" is incredibly relevant and very sage advice to the parent of any preschooler.

** If your child is playing quietly, don't rejoice. It is undoubtedly suspect.
** If they are behaving and subdued, they are probably sick and you will either get thrown up on or spend the evening at Urgent Care.
** If your children are playing quietly together, be afraid; one of them is likely now bald or otherwise disfigured.

The same rules apply to when your child(ren) are uncharacteristically lovely and accommodating while running errands. They are saving it up, trust me; before you can say "Linda Blair" you will be mopping up green snot and calling the Pope for a little intervention. Yes, I know this from experience... unfortunately so do many of my fellow neighbors/shoppers and the lovely ladies employed by Tuesday Morning.

Things were going along swimmingly today, and I was actually enjoying a quiet morning of errands, talking, and laughing with E. Oh, silly me! I am such a sucker, I fall for it every time. It was awesome. I was in such a good mood, and having such a grand time that I agreed to a toy purchase. ALL she had to do was pick it out.

Oh boy.
THREE trips down the toy aisle, a look at EVERYTHING, and 20 minutes later, she still hadn't made a decision and was dithering considerably. She WOULD. NOT. CHOOSE.

The time came to leave.
Cue green snotty/pukey stuff and Linda-Blair-esque scene.
Cue blood-curdling screams, hitting, and a range of rather startling preschooler invectives when The Ditherer was forced to vacate the premises sans toy.

I mean seriously... I love me some Tuesday Morning too, but we simply cannot stay there all day.

I have since been informed that:

"I don't FEEL good, because you are MEAN TO ME!"
"I don't WIKE YOU!"
"I NEEEEEEEED somefing, now!"

I swear to God, you'd think I was the devil, Hitler, and Saddam Hussein rolled into one because I *gasp* expected her to be semi-expedient while spending my money on crap to shove to the bottom of her toy box.

Nice guys finish last. And so do nice Mommies... remember that.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Sugar and spice and everything... nice? Surely there's some mistake.

"NO! You're a BUM!"

Ahhh, from the mouths of babes.
Pretty benign insult overall, no? You may even find yourself thinking "Ah, come on kid - you can do better than that!"

Just to clear something up, she wasn't referring to panhandlers when she tossed out the word bum, she was referring to the back end, the exit, the rectal area, or however you want to put it. Yeah. That bum. And that lovely little shouted insult was directed at her Daddy.

(Is it bad that just recounting this story makes me titter to myself?)

At any rate, obviously my three year-old has taken a liking to potty humor, potty mouth, and virtually all things that refer in some way to the posterior. *sigh*
I routinely hear:

"You're a POOPY head!"
"You BUM!"
"Poopy, poopy, poopy, POOPY!"
(Said in a sing-song voice dancing around her sister)

Everyone told me I'd hear this stuff repeatedly... IF I HAD BOYS. Nobody mentioned that the sweet little pig-tailed cherubs that are little girls (hahahaha!) would be so fond of talking about such un-ladylike things. The psychologist in me is scared shitless (pun intended) to find out what Freud would think about this.

I keep hoping this phase will pass soon, but given our most recent conversation, I don't see that happening.

E: "Mommy, I WIKE Finding Nemo."
M: "Oh yeah? I do too, it's a good movie."
E: "Yeah, you know why I wike it?"
M: "Why's that?"
E: "There's a BUTT in it. He touched the BUTT. Tee hee hee!"

Oy vey.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Living In A Porta-Potty

It usually takes someone commenting on a blog entry of mine (or otherwise reminding me of its existence) to stir up some motivation to write. Then, and only then, do I start thinking "Hey... I should write about X and Y!" This also explains why my blog entries tend to be grouped together in clumps rather than spread out over the month... but, whatever, right?

At any rate, I was (obviously) reminded today, and a few things started swirling around in this mushy cavern I like to call my head.

For instance, anyone who is among the elite few I call my 'friends' on Facebook is probably well aware that I am absolutely sick to death of dealing with pee. Pee, wee-wee, tee-tee, urine... whatever you want to call it, I am SO freaking over it!

Pee problem #1:
Someone *cough*P*cough* bought a brand new state-of-the-art litter box that self scoops, self-disposes of the waste, and cleans the (plastic) litter all by itself. Great, huh?! Awesome. Except that our neurotic, mentally disabled cat Jupiter flatly refuses to use it. Instead, he has taken to peeing all over my kitchen floor and wall every single night.

Pee problem #2:
My 5 year-old has recently decided that whatever she is doing (whether it be watching Spongebob or pulling the legs off an unsuspecting bug) is far more important than any pesky urge to go to the potty. This, of course, leads to so-called 'accidents' that necessitate my attention.

Pee problem #3:
I have a recently potty-trained 3 year-old who thinks it is super cool to do whatever her big sister does.

So you see, I am sick of it. My house smells like pee, the laundry basket is always full, and it seems that lately we are keeping the good folks that make Nature's Miracle in business.

I am about to start issuing threats with regards to the pee-situation around here. In fact, truth be known, I already have. My kids LOVE going to school, so I thought that by telling one of them (whose identity shall remain a mystery to protect the innocent) that if she continued to pee-pee in her pants, she wouldn't be able to return to school.

Well, that backfired good and proper. Her answer to my threat?
"Tha's OK. I don't fink I wike Mrs. X (her teacher) anyway - she wooks wike a goat."



Monday, August 10, 2009

Looks like the Jr. PGA is a pipe dream...

Saturday was interesting.
Yes, interesting indeed....

Someone *cough*P*cough* decided that it might be fun to play mini-golf together as a family at one of those big Fun Centers. You know the place - they are all essentially the same.

Mini golf course peppered with algae infested 'rivers' and fountains? Check.
Money-sucking, ticket-stingy games? Check.
A few rides (aka: death traps) out back mostly hidden by weeds? Check.
Crappy pizza that costs nearly the same as a gourmet meal? Check.

The stuff dreams are made of, no?

Don't get me wrong... I actually enjoy a good game of mini-golf, it can be quite fun. But this was one situation that simply was NOT going to work out well, a point that I tried to stress as much as possible before capitulating and setting off for a 'fun' afternoon. You see, there were numerous factors working against us that prompted me to energetically campaign against this particular plan.

We had:
** A 3 year old and a 5 year old, both with NO concept of why one would want to hit a tiny ball into a hole for fun.

** A 3 year old who behaves like the spawn of Satan himself when she is hungry or it gets too close to her naptime. (She eats at 11, sleeps at 1pm. We left the house at 10:30 with no plans to eat until after a rousing game of putt-putt).

** A 5 year-old obsessed with putting tokens in money slots with little concept of the purpose of 95% of the games she is feeding.

** A barely toilet-trained 3 year-old who insists on wearing panties everywhere.

** 95 degree heat.

To say it went poorly would be an understatement. Lets just say that we left the 'Fun Center' after roughly 45 minutes in which time we had been relieved of at least $40, played exactly three holes of mini-golf, listened to relentless complaining about the heat, lost a three year-old, had a potty 'accident', and had a handful of tickets that purchased 4 complete pieces of junk (2 of which were broken by the end of the day). Then we had to listen to whining, fighting, and complaining all the way to the German restaurant where we lunched (that's not to say it stopped when we got there. Ohhhh no).

Sounds fun, no?

Moral of the story? Anyone?

The End.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

You said WHAT?!

There are certain conversations that everyone dreads having with their kids.
You know the ones I am referring to, don't make me list them.

I assumed I had a few years yet, but every now and then I am hit with a doozy out of left-field. Like earlier this week....

"Mommy, what's THAT?"

The 'that' in question? A tampon.
Greaaaat. Try explaining tampons to a three year-old!
I was caught like a deer in the headlights, with absolutely no idea what to tell her, frankly. And apparently, that shows.

THIS was the conversation I heard later in the day:

E: "I got some [pretend] food for you, sissy!"
A: "I don't want it!"
E: "C'mon sissy, it's good!"
A: "NO."
E: "Sisssssyyy... I got some yummy tampon food for you!"

There goes my Mother of the Year trophy. Oy.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Shameless Plug

This is simply a shameless plug for my family history blog (linked at right). If any family members are reading and you haven't visited, do! I'm adding interesting information regularly now, and you may see something cool!

Of course, non-family are welcome as well, but you probably won't find it nearly as interesting. LOL

Monday, July 6, 2009

The Wedding

So, we spent the 4th of July in Wilmington this year.

Sounds great, doesn't it? I remember previous Independence Day celebrations on the beach... lounging on beach chairs by the ocean at night, red Solo cups (full of delicious adult beverages) in hand waiting for the fireworks to begin. Ah....

This was nothing like that.

This time, we had two preschoolers in tow. Two preschoolers who really like their routine, their beds, their regular 'play and go wild' time. In short, two kids who don't like being cooped up in the car, and take a few days to acclimate to any change in their sleeping accommodations. You can see where this is going, right?

At any rate, the trip can be summed up fairly well in three categories: The good, The Bad, The Ugly, The Funny.

The Good:

I was able to attend the wedding of the lovely Ms. Marcia (now the lovely Mrs. Skinner - sister of one of my best friends). It was beautiful, touching, and I had a great time at the reception. :)

I got to spend time with one of my best friends whom I haven't seen forever! (It was great to see you, Mary Emily!)

I met someone new at the reception whom I really enjoyed talking to, who lives in my area.

I finally (after many, many years) got to meet my sister Kandy on Saturday! We have been in touch for over a year, and it was awesome to see her. :D

The Bad:

The tantrums. Oh holy heaven above, the tantrums....
E was in rare form, and made the rest of us wish we'd never been born - more than once.

I have a paper due tonight. Because of the trip I didn't get to start working on it until - you guessed it - today. Maybe I'll be in luck and my professor will hit the lottery right before class or something....

The Ugly:
The pull-out couch bed. I had to sleep on it one night with a 3 year-old who repeatedly kicked me in the stomach.

The small hotel room. Lack of personal space can make a person feel downright homicidal.

The lack of sleep. Did I mention our kids don't adjust rapidly to change? *yawn*

The Funny:

Thank goodness there was a bit of comic relief here and there to lighten things up.
Anna learns a new word:
A: "Hey, there's Abeck!"
Me: "What, honey? What's Abeck?"
A: "You know, Abeck. The grown-up drink store. We just passed one."
Me: "Huh?"
A: *exasperated sigh* "YOU KNOW, Mommy. Abeck. A-B-C... that spells Abeck. The grown-up drink store."

But anyway...
So, while it was no walk in the park, the weekend definitely had it's moments! :D

Thursday, July 2, 2009

A Little Of This, A Little Of That...

Random thought #1:

Today has been interesting, for lack of a better word. Earlier, while shopping with the girls I thought to myself "Maybe I should look for work doing voiceover ads." Because I am very good at repeating the same tired lines over and over again until I am hoarse in the attempt to achieve just the right pitch and tone...

"Keep your hands to YOURSELF."
"Keep your HANDS to yourSELF."

Random thought #2:

I have this 'thing' with anniversaries. I remember the anniversary of just about everything (everything significant to me, that is). Today is a personal anniversary. (And no, I won't be sharing what happened on this date. I'll keep it to myself and let you guess. :D)

Random thought #3:

Sometimes being a grown-up sucks.
It would be really nice to be able to hole up every now and then and wallow in self-pity when I have a bad day. (Ah, who am I kidding? I'd settle for peeing in private most days.)

Random thought #4:

The most grueling and dreaded part of domesticity is the knowledge that you have to come up with an answer to the unspoken question that plagues you as soon as your feet hit the floor in the morning.... What's for dinner?

It's been one of those days. You know the ones - those that by the end have you convinced you need therapy. Well, therapy is expensive and impractical right now, so this will have to serve as a temporary measure to decompress. (And no, this does not mean you are now my therapist. I better not be receiving a bill for $100 for this 'session'.)

Am I Living It Right?

** These are not my words. I owe this post to the talented John Mayer. This song has been running through my head for days, though, so I felt like sharing. :)

Why Georgia

I am driving up 85 in the
Kind of morning that lasts all afternoon
just stuck inside the gloom
4 more exits to my apartment but
I am tempted to keep the car in drive
And leave it all behind

Cause I wonder sometimes
About the outcome
Of a still verdictless life

Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why Georgia, why?

I rent a room and I fill the spaces with
Wood in places to make it feel like home
But all I feel's alone
It might be a quarter life crisis
Or just the stirring in my soul

Either way I wonder sometimes
About the outcome
Of a still verdictless life

Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why Georgia, why?

So what, so I've got a smile on
But it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head
Don't believe me
When I say I've got it down

Everybody is just a stranger but
That's the danger in going my own way
I guess it's the price I have to pay
Still "everything happens for a reason"
Is no reason not to ask myself

If I am living it right
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why Georgia, why?

Monday, June 29, 2009

It's All Relative

I've never been big on history.
It's just the way it is - I was never able to relate to history, it always seemed like something so far removed from me that I just couldn't muster up much interest.

That has changed since I've been researching my family history.
I never knew before that I was a 'part' of some of the great moments of American and English history until fairly recently....

Through my ancestors I have been a part of The Revolutionary War, The War of 1812, The Civil War, and World War II. Not to mention running a grist mill, farming cotton, riding west in a covered wagon, founding a church, practicing the great art of undertaking, being a postmaster, and serving as a Yeoman guard for Queen Charlotte.


It is truly mind-boggling and impressive to think of the lives my ancestors lived - to begin to put their stories together, and see the puzzle pieces of their lives form a snapshot in time.

It's all relative - my ancestors have made history real to me. And I hope that by knowing the tidbits and stories that I've put together, history will always be 'real' to my children.

Thank you, my trailblazing ancestors. You are (even hundreds of years after your time) an inspiration.

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Truth Doesn't Always Set You Free....

Some days my kids can be really cute - they'll say the funniest things that will make me giggle to myself all day, and eagerly re-tell the story.

Today is not one of those days.

We've all heard the stories about embarrassing things that young children say and do... remarking on strangers' hair, face, skin color, odor, etc. But my eldest is nearly five, and frankly, I thought I'd managed to dodge that bullet. Yes indeed, I was feeling a little smug.

Well, today I learned that if you dare to be smug, it will bite you in the ass. And it bit me - hard - when my five year-old pointed at a man and announced loudly (in a PACKED Wendy's) "MOM! Look at that FATTT man!"

I considered what to do for a moment and (after ruling out pretending not to speak English) sheepishly apologized and informed Little Miss Mouthy that it is not nice to make such comments.

Where is that trap door (ala Scooby Doo) when you need it? Because seriously, I just wanted to disappear. I think my face is still a rather unflattering shade of crimson.

Moral of the story? Don't think it (whatever 'it' is) won't happen to you. It will. Oh, it will....

Monday, April 27, 2009

Who, Me?!

My Mom always said "When kids are too quiet, you know they are up to no good". Truer words have never been spoken....

Today I attempted to work in my (newly made/planted) garden while the beasts (sorry, kids...) ran around in the yard yelling and randomly hurling things at each other. Of course it took all of ten seconds for them to realize that I was trying to be productive and they immediately set out to thwart my efforts.

You know how it is - the minute they get the slightest inkling that you're busy, they are on you like white on rice.

"I want to HEEELLLP!"

So I'm working, trying to set the garden up, get things planted... and the rugrats are "helping" me. (If one considers flinging dirt, dumping buckets of water on the soil you are working with, and nibbling on the cilantro "helping", that is.)

At some point I realize that I can hear a bird chirping....
This is not good - it is too quiet in the yard if I can manage to hear a bird over the cacophony.

Uh oh. Where's Ella?
I don't see her anywhere.... So like a good *ahem*redneck*ahem* Mother, I yell "Ella, what are you DOING?"

I know I'm in trouble when I hear a semi-suspicious 2 year-old sing-song voice answer back:

And I'm a size 3... something is definitely up.

Said two year-old was discovered with a spray bottle in her possession leaning over an anthill. Future exterminator, or future serial killer? Stay tuned folks....

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Who Needs Sleep?!

My kid is sick.
Yes, again.

I swear, it seems as though she's been sick non-stop for weeks - I'm (literally) cleaning up puke in my sleep. I have to, otherwise I get no sleep. Talk about multi-tasking!

At any rate, I feel like a bug trapped under a jar.
She can't go to school, I can't take her anywhere... I have a serious case of cabin fever that is being made progressively worse by the fact that the weather has decided to get beautiful again just in time for The Sickies, round 2.


And for two days now I've thought she was getting better... at least feeling good enough to go outside and play! And for two days in a row, a half hour before E woke up from her nap - puke city. No going outside, because she's shaking, hacking, and generally being miserable. It's a huge bummer, because I love outside time - especially in this weather. It's my favorite part of the day!

I'm sitting here feeling trapped in the house and wondering if I'll ever sleep again... did I have a baby and someone forgot to clue me in?! Because, seriously... I was told that this would be over and done by now.

I was grievously misled, and demand a retraction!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Even When You're Old, You'll Still Be Little

You blink and suddenly your 'little' brother is turning 30.

How did this happen?
I swear to God, just yesterday we were swatting at each other in the backseat of Mom's car. And now? In just two short days we will both be in our 30's....

Frankly I think him turning 30 is hitting me harder than my own 'big' birthday did! Because this is it - he's the 'last man standing', and very shortly we'll all be over that hump and speeding downhill into middle-age and beyond.

If you are reading this Chris, sorry if I bring you down, man.

It's hard to believe we spent all those years fighting and taking our youth for granted... it went by in an instant.

And now we are grown-ups.
Everyone raise your glasses of prune juice and Geritol to my brother Chris. Happy Birthday, baby of the family. Welcome to the dark side.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

I Blame Facebook

That's right - you heard me.
Blame it on Facebook.

I haven't been here in ages because I find myself thinking 'Eh. If it can't fit in a Facebook status update, who needs it?!'

Methinks I have a little problem.

Staying up all hours of the night, checking in for my fix every 20-30 minutes.... I've even found myself thinking that surely I no longer need my phone. I mean really - isn't that what wall posts are for?

Even my iPod is in cahoots with The Facebook to bring me down. Damned iPod touch... the WiFi connections are everywhere to feed my addiction.

But hey, I'm doing good deeds, being a supportive friend, being exposed to new music, new ideas and a crapload of funny stuff, so it can't be all bad. I've already saved a bajillion feet of rainforest, signed numerous official-looking petitions, and had a part in effectively bullying (or bugging the shit out of) Stephenie Meyer already this year - and it's only February!

Not to mention that I greedily lap up the random details of my friends' lives via posted notes. 25 things, 44 things, music, books, etc... I know it all! I could claim information gathering as my motivation, but lets face it - I cannot resist boring all my friends, acquaintances, and fellow Jr. High survivors with the inane details of my life in return. And I LIKE IT.

So, please - If I stop bathing or refuse to acknowledge you unless you first send me a Facebook IM or write on my wall, promise me you'll do me a favor....

Turn me once in a while so I don't get bedsores, mmmkay?

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Say Cheese!

Cheese must be a miracle food.

I mean, OK... obviously I already know that it is manna from heaven in the sense that it is absolutely divinely delicious, but I think it must have some seriously miraculous qualities.

How else would you explain how a four year-old and two year-old manage to grow and thrive while eating only a few handfuls of this substance each week?

My kids love cheese.

Sometimes, it is quite literally all they will eat. They won't even accept clever attempts to hide or 'dress up' the cheese. Quesadillas? Yeah, right, buddy. The cheese gets peeled off and the tortilla hits the floor.

But you know, I'm a grown-up. And grown-ups just never learn. We always seem to think we can sneak something past the little demons. Does it work? Well... you be the judge.

Me: "E, look, quesadilla! Yum! Eat it."
E: (insert skeptical look) "OK."

*E peels the tortilla off her beloved cheese, takes a bite, then spits it out on the table*
Me: "E, what's wrong?"
*E dissects the cheese, and pulls out a lump. It's chicken. I've tried to put one over on her again.*
E: "What is VIS in my CHEESIE?"
Me: "Chicken."
E: "I don't WIKE it! No chicken in my CHEESIE!"

Alrighty then.
Don't mess with the two year-old's cheesie, or somebody gets hurt.

All hail cheese.
Thank God for this miraculous, wonderful food... without it my children would starve and I would be another CPS casualty.

(Of course, I would also be far skinnier and have lower cholesterol. But whatever. I pretty much sacrificed my figure the moment the stick turned pink anyway. So oh well... Viva queso!)