Deep thoughts on a scattered Wednesday

It may be time to rethink my default email closing. It’s supposed to look like this:

Best,
Mir

First of all, I’m a little concerned that in some unconscious corner of the brain, that gets read as “I’m the best, yeah, me, that’s right, I’M THE BEST MIR!” And I don’t want to come off like a pretentious egomaniac in an email, when there’s PLENTY of time to give that impression in person, you know? (Kidding! Totally kidding. I’m pretentious but I have esteem issues, dontchaknow.)

Second of all, there’s simply too much potential for butchery as my fingers fly. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 24 }

As long as we’re talking about it

I promise that after this I will stop talking about dog poop. I mean, probably. For a while, at least. I did really enjoy how yesterday I thought I was making this offhanded observation about the dog being a pain in the ass (granted, an adorable pain, but still) and the next thing I knew, my comments were filled with people who were afraid I was randomly flinging dog poop into other people’s trash cans. Or who had terrible stories of random/unexpected dog poop. (I did go back to the comments to clarify that I am only dropping securely-bagged poop into public receptacles. Lest you think I’m a poop bandit or something.)

Oh, God. I’m writing an entire entry about dog poop. OH YES I AM.

Anyway, I wasn’t going to tell y’all about this, but as long as we’re just chatting about waste matter, WHY NOT! (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 31 }

Kettle, you’re so difficult

As Monkey and I walked to school this morning, and then as Licorice and I continued on without him, I mused on what must go through the dog’s head on these walks. It took her about two days to figure out that once Otto and Chickadee leave, that means A WALK IS IMMINENT. The resultant excitement means that I get to experience the joy of getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and finding my sneakers all while the whining, wagging, spaztastically excited dog tries to trip me.

Sometimes my favorite part of the day is when we’re ready to go and I hold up the leash and tell her I’m not putting it on her until she sits. She wants to, she really does, but IT’SSOEXCITING and it’s sort of like her legs just dance out from under her even when she’s trying to comply. In fact, I usually just stand there, waiting, until she flops over on her back in surrender. (No one ever accused Licorice of being particularly dignified.)

Anyway, the point is, she does love our morning walks beyond all reason. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 20 }

Do it like a rock star

I don’t talk too much about divorce/coparenting/family-blending here, anymore. A lot of it is ancient history; a lot of it is just an attempt to respect my kids’ privacy. I don’t see a whole lot that can be gained by noting every time my ex comes to see the kids and pretends that Otto is invisible (every. freaking. time.), or times when the inevitable “I wish you and Daddy never got divorced but then if I wish that I wish Otto and everything here away and I don’t want that, either” sadness comes up and I have to 1) try to be comforting and 2) bite my tongue about the million reasons why this was so much better than the alternative.

A lot of it Just Is. It is what it is and we deal with it as best we can. What else can we do?

And while I don’t suffer any delusions of dealing with it any better than anyone else, I was very flattered to be interviewed over on Rockstar Coparenting about our experiences as a divorced, remarried, coparenting blended family. (Try saying that one five times fast.) And I especially love that it started with quite literally asking to see the shoes I walk in. She had me at shoes, people.

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 13 }

Still awkward

Today I am over at Five Full Plates, bragging about how I’m getting myself back into the fitness groove I loathe so much. It’s going surprisingly well, actually. I meant, except for the part where I nearly died. (I didn’t really nearly die. I just felt like I was going to. Because I’m a drama queen.)

Extra bonus unrelated story snippet: Part of Monkey’s accommodation at school is that he has a laptop so he can keyboard instead of writing. His laptop also has Internet. And Monkey spends a lot of time on his laptop, because he’s allowed to use it whenever he’s done with his work, and Speedy Gonzalez there is often sitting around waiting for his classmates to finish up. Well. I found out he’d been Googling me and reading the blog (really, I didn’t expect that to happen for a few years). So I emailed the teacher to ask that his Internet usage be monitored, and she assured me that it was, and I assured her that it was not, because he’d admitted to reading stuff he shouldn’t, and she got kind of defensive and said the school filters would prevent that, and I told her “yes, but I’m writer, and I write for an adult audience, and he’s apparently been reading me from school. And now you think I write porn, but really I don’t, I just would prefer he not read my writing… oh, God, the more I protest the worse this sounds.”

She… did not respond to that email. So when I sent Otto off to curriculum night last night, I yelled after him, “Please make sure she knows I don’t write porn for a living!” Yeah.

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 23 }

Love’s a little chaotic

Yesterday turned out to be kind of a crazy day; Wednesdays are always my busiest day, anyway, and yesterday had a few extra wrenches thrown in for fun, like the emergency orthodontic appointment because someone who swears they aren’t eating things they shouldn’t nonetheless broke her braces. AHEM.

Anyway, finally the day was mostly over and we were sitting down to dinner, and the kids seemed bent on out-obnoxiousing each other, but in kind of a funny way, at least. The meal was turning out to be a rather raucous affair. And finally after the fourth or fifth time one or both children monopolized the conversation with some silly thing or another, I looked across the table to Otto and said, “And how was YOUR day, Husband?”

Otto didn’t have a chance to respond before Chickadee cheerfully answered, “It was great, THANKS!” at the same time that Monkey—having missed this altogether—squealed “MEEEEEAAAAAAAT!” in a high-pitched voice reserved for pretending to be the dog (who was, indeed, dancing around at his feet, hoping he might “accidentally” drop his burger).

My beloved and I locked gazes as I tried to stop laughing, and in a moment we communicated all that needed to be said, without words. This life of ours is loud and messy and not terribly romantic, but it is never dull.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone. Today I submit to you that if it’s not a little bit crazy-making, chances are you’re doing it wrong.

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 11 }

This makes my parents proud

Plenty of parents dream of their offspring becoming doctors, lawyers, superstars, and world-renowned scientists. We all have big dreams for our kids. I just hope that my parents always hoped that someday their darling daughter would grow up to talk about her boobs on the Internet. Because if so, dude, they TOTALLY scored.

Now that the students have flooded back into town I am reminded of one of the current fads I find puzzling, and—not coincidentally—one way in which I suspect I am a little bit strange. It seems to me that every young woman in this town has an entire closet full of strapless tops and dresses. I don’t know how or when or why this became The Thing, but there they all are, parading around with completely naked shoulders.

And me with the overwhelming urge to walk up behind them and yank down their shirts. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 65 }

Special needs, yes indeed

I think that any parent with more than one child struggles to make sure that things are fair, and that goes quadruple in the case of having a kid with special needs. No matter how many times I intone, “Fair doesn’t mean equal” to my kids—and I do believe that, by the way—there are always going to be cases where one feels they’re being slighted while the other is getting more. More attention, more privileges, more love, more WHATEVER; it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s a balancing act, giving them what they need, keeping my sanity, and keeping the peace.

It can be even more difficult now that they’re getting older and Chickadee can understand that Monkey gets certain accommodations at school and is oftentimes treated differently at home, too, as part and parcel of his “special needs.” And yes, the air quotes are required. Always.

Anyway, I thought it was time to shine a light on the whole “special needs” thing, as it applies to homework. Because some people may not understand what it means to have a special needs kid when it comes to something like this, and the process I go through 4-5 days/week with these kids. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 41 }

Made of awesome

Look; you already know that I’m basically sort of lazy. (At least when it comes to physical stuff. My mind is sort of like a hamster on crack on a giant wheel, running for broke. It doesn’t often GET anywhere, but at least it’s going.) So I preface this story with the acknowledgment that what I consider an incredibly productive weekend may, indeed, be your idea of an uneventful hour. I understand that. Still, FOR ME, it was something of a masterpiece of productivity, and you’ll just have to allow me a few moments of bragging about it.

Besides, we all know there’s a moment at the end where I got knocked down a couple of pegs, because that’s just how it goes. Success in my world can sometimes be fleeting; I accept this.

Usually. I mean, most of the time.

I mean… well, you’ll just have to see for yourself. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 26 }

Mystery! Suspense! Laundry!

I am on a quest to make my children more self-sufficient. Because I hope that someday they’ll move out. Part of my quest involves mastery-by-inches when it comes to the laundry.

Chickadee knows how to do her own laundry, and sometimes she even does. But for the most part I take care of the parts involving the washing machine and dryer. It used to be that laundry magically took care of itself, you know, and bit by bit I’m trying to factor myself out of the equation. First it was “nothing gets washed unless it’s in the hamper.” Then it was “nothing gets washed unless the hamper is placed in front of the washer.” And I’ve also gone from putting their stuff away for them to folding it all and letting them put away to simply handing them baskets of clothes to deal with with on their own.

I really thought I was on the right path. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 22 }
Design by LEAP