November 23, 2004 | What do I do all day?

T-minus three hours until the Thanksgiving Feast at preschool. Bring it on.

I’ve had half a gallon of water so far this morning. Dehydrated, much? Hey, at least it’s staying in my stomach….

There’s a pan of brownies cooling on the counter. (What, you don’t have traditional Betty Crocker Thanksgiving brownies at your house…?) A double batch of dough for Kira’s amazing molasses cookies is chilling in the fridge, just waiting to be formed and baked.

Why I signed up to bring two desserts, I have no idea. Oh, wait. Yes I do. It’s the old “I’d like there to be some choices that won’t kill my son” thing. Now I remember. Anyway. I signed up to bring two desserts, and dammit, I’m bringing two desserts. This will also give me some extra cookies to give to the neighbor and our sitter. But if you catch me fashioning my own hand-dyed raffia ribbons and stamped recycled paper bags to put them in, please shoot me. I have my limits, you know.

November 22, 2004 | Health is overrated

Everyone made it through the day, more or less.

Monkey needs “some more-a dat snot-melting stuff!”

Chickadee says there is something angry in her tummy.

Both of them are laying on the couch watching Noggin.

Me? I’m wondering if I can put the kids to bed at 6. Out of concern for their health, natch. Not because I’ve been sick, myself, all day. That would be selfish. And any mother worth her salt can handle a fun-filled day with the kids on one cup of tea and three Ritz crackers. Do you think they’ll let me read them a bedtime story in the bathroom? No…?

I’m supposed to be baking dessert for Monkey’s “Thanksgiving Feast” at school tomorrow. I’m thinking of some Pink Pepto Meringues. Or perhaps nice crunchy Barf Bars.

I’m so going to hell. But as I’ve been freezing cold all day, it doesn’t sound so bad.

What do I do all day?, Offspring: ecstasy and agony, Health is overrated

You ever have one of those Monday mornings where it feels like the universe is trying to send you a message, and the message is not very nice?

Like maybe…
… your nearly-five-year-old who should be nighttime trained by now but isn’t because he will be going to college in pull-ups has soaked through everything, because you were out of name-brand pull-ups and used the inferior no-name brand, and it was probably all Murphy’s Law-ish-ly because you just put clean sheets on his bed last night?
… that same child wakes up with a snot-covered face and you are out of daytime children’s cold medicine?
… your other child is complaining of a tummy ache, and she always complains of a tummy ache so it’s probably nothing, except that you have a tummy ache, so maybe it’s not nothing?
… having a cup of tea to settle your stomach turns out to be a really bad idea?
… you receive a rude email from a non-paying eBay buyer who is irate that you’ve filed a claim against them, because surely it must be your fault that they’ve failed to pay you?
… after packing lunches inbetween running to the bathroom, and getting everyone out the door on time, the neighbor greets you at the bus stop with “Wow, you look like crap”?

I’m thinking that if I had a morning like that, I’d be very grumpy, indeed. Yes.
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November 21, 2004 | Friends

I was looking forward to my Sunday, today. Sunday mornings are calming. Church is familiar, singing in the choir is a good way to get me going for the day, and it probably doesn’t hurt to get a little dressed up and be out amongst people. It reminds me that my hermit impression is well-developed but not my only choice.

So I was going along on my merry way this morning. About twenty minutes into the service we got to the “sharing of joys and concerns” part, and a friend of mine announced that she’s moving away. Far away. Soon.

When my glasses started fogging up, I realized I was crying.
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November 20, 2004 | My name is Grumplestiltskin

Murray lawn tractor. Runs great good sometimes in theory. Red. Model SUX B1GT1M. Year unknown, either 1942 or 1943.

Loaded! Features/Accessories: Mulching/bagging system. Multiple repair tags on ignition key. Dead battery (rusted in place). Half a human knuckle on rusted battery terminal. Brand new jumper cables. Full tank of gas. Plenty of oil. Large dent in side where I kicked it.

Location: Halfway between the driveway and the shed, which is as close as it’s getting to being put away.

Price: Negotiable. Free with removal of leaves/pine needles. Will pay handsome sum to the agent who removes the aforementioned and the pines in the front yard.

Contact: Dig under the pine needles until you locate the source of that loud sobbing. Please hurry.

What do I do all day?

… and you’ll have to check back later to see if the lawn wins.

Leaves and pine needles are trembling with anticipation and fear! Oh… wait… that’s laughter. Dammit.

November 19, 2004 | Offspring: ecstasy and agony

I swear we actually had this conversation in the car this morning. It was right after I was informed that it’s time to have Chickadee tested for ADD. (I like how her therapist tried to soften the blow by pointing out that part of the testing is an IQ test, so we’ll find out “just how smart she really is,” as if confirmation on paper that she’s a genius will somehow offset the fact that the cards are stacked against her in so many other ways.) Anyway, I was deep in my own thoughts, and this was just what I needed to bring me back to a place where I can love my life for everything it is, rather than despise it for the things that it is not.
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November 18, 2004 | Haven't been hit by lightning yet!

I am all about helping the masses. Truly. My knowledge is your knowledge. Moreover, my laundry is your laundry. Always remember to separate the darks from the lights, and don’t put my bras in the dryer, please.

Anyway.

Know how there are never an even number of socks? The dryer eats them, or the gremlins steal them, or whatever? I have inadvertently ascertained how to avoid this problem. So I will share the solution with you, because no one likes to have extra socks laying around. And the answer is so simple, really.
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Friends

Yesterday? Did something happen yesterday? What? LALALALALA! I can’t hear you! Tra la la, with God as my witness, I’ll never eat radishes again or allow people I barely know to mess with my head. Because frankly, I don’t give a damn. Or something. Okay? Okay!

Anyway, yesterday (yes, I’m back to yesterday, but this is something different) I resorted to a tried-and-true method of cheering myself up. I called my dear friend who is also a single mom and made plans for us to all get together for dinner. And by “made plans for us to all get together for dinner,” I mean we had the following conversation on the phone:

Her: Hello?
Me: Hey. Are you in a meeting or something?
Her: Yes.
Me: Oh, sorry. Call me later.
Her: NO! I’m in the hall now, and you just got me out of that stupid staff meeting. Yay! What’s up?
Me: Invite us over to dinner.
Her: …?
Me: Please? You have leftovers. I’ll bring bread.
Her: Ummm… okay. Hey, wanna come to dinner?
Me: You’re the best. What time?
Her: I’m picking up Boing around 4:15.
Me: Okay, I’ll get Monkey then, too. See you around 4:30.
Her: Uhhhh, Mir?
Me: Yeah?
Her: You okay?
Me: Fanfuckingtastic. Seeya later.

Wasn’t it nice of her to invite us to dinner?
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November 17, 2004 | It's not a regret, it's an "experience"

Hello from an undisclosed location nowhere near where you suppose! I’m enjoying the Witness Protection Program. No one knows me, here, which I’m finding suits me just fine. All the better to hide me with, my dears.
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