August 31, 2005 | What do I do all day?

I’ve decided that the hallmark of good parenting is the ability to convince your progeny of just about anything, plausible or no. You need to wear the right clothing so that you don’t get sick! There are no monsters in your closet! Some harmless incorporeal freak wants to sneak into your room and give you money in return for your discarded enamel! Etc.

It’s a handy skill to have, this deadpan presentation of anything they “should” believe. Luckily for me, my kids are still pretty gullible. Well, Monkey moreso than Chickadee (he is younger, after all), but on the whole, I’m sure my parents will be very pleased to know that the money they spent on my very useful degree in Theater Arts was WELL SPENT.
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August 30, 2005 | Offspring: ecstasy and agony

Once upon a time there was an adorable little Monkey toddler who was fat and happy and gurgly and loved creamed spinach. Yes! CREAMED SPINACH. From Boston Market. But I digress. The point is that he happily ate just about anything you fed to him. And anything he found on the floor. Or in the dog’s dish. (I suspect there will be a lot of digressions tonight.)

ANYWAY.

Then one day I accidentally fed him some poison, and after the excitement that went with THAT, a picky eater was born.
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August 29, 2005 | What do I do all day?, Offspring: ecstasy and agony

We’re at T-minus TWO DAYS until Chickadee goes back to school (Monkey doesn’t start til next week) and already I can see that life is going to be very different this year. In ways that I really hadn’t anticipated.

For starters, Chickadee is going to a new school this year. New school, new layout, new rules, new (ooooh! ahhhhh!) swipe cards to use in the cafeteria! She can make her own selections at lunchtime and have whatever she picks automatically deducted from her pre-funded ID-linked account! Why does our school district think this is a good idea? In her school last year, I had to submit a form every month in triplicate, signed in blood, and notarized, authorizing her to have chocolate milk. Now? She can waltz into the lunch room and get chips or cookies with a flick of her card unless I can figure out how to convince her that the All-Seeing Mama Eyeball will know if she’s buying junk food.

Yeah, I wasn’t really counting on my seven-year-old having a credit card.
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August 28, 2005 | It's not a regret, it's an "experience"

… and it keeps staring at me.

My ex was giving me a hard time about keeping these dogs for the weekend, because he staunchly maintains that I do not like dogs. That is not, in fact, true. I love dogs. I am not super-fond of dogs I can’t seem to control, for all the obvious dog- and carpet-related reasons, as well as because I just like to control things. (Heh.)

We used to have a dog, and he was… well… he was a darling, really. Very sweet. But let’s just say that I am a paragon of mental stability next to that dog. That dog had separation anxiety and herding insticts that made him body-check small children into the wall and then stand on them and every time he went to doggie school he was PERFECT–there. He would then come home and be all “Yay! Back to the asylum! What can I destroy first??” I tolerated him for a long time, but once my ex moved out the dog left off all other bad behaviors in favor of a I AM NOW THE ALPHA AND I SHALL EAT YOU IF YOU TRY TO ENTER MY DOMAIN schtick, and, well, now he lives happily on a farm with another dog, and my UPS man no longer calls me nasty names under his breath.

Anyway, this afternoon Gangly Dog beheaded his rubber chicken. A moment of silence, please.
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August 27, 2005 | Haven't been hit by lightning yet!

Dogs: obeying, yet gaseous.

Floors: mostly dry.

Ant baits: not tasty doggie treats.

“Where’s your CHICKEN?!”: rapidly replacing “I bite you!” as favorite child-phrase to the dogs.

Barbecue: 1) at someone else’s house, 2) foodtastic, 3) pool, pinata and bouncy house included, 4) yes I DO like pina coladas.

Shoulders: burnt.

Kids: exhausted; see also, sleeping.

Saturday night: ponderous and melancholy.

August 26, 2005 | What do I do all day?

So. Tired. I have this entire ground-breaking theory worked out about how much longer each day becomes relative to the number of times you come upon a small puddle on the floor and have to stop and test it to see if it’s drool or slopped water or dog pee and how it’s an exponential progression… but, um, the dogs ate it. Ha.

The dogs. THE DOGS. Oh, the excitement. Oh, the paper towels.

Today was interesting, because Chickadee went off to work with her Daddy (today was national Hurry Up And Bring Your Daughter To Work With You Because You Randomly Mentioned It Once Earlier This Summer And She Never Forgot And School Is About To Start Again Day!) and I was left with the task of soothing the savage, er, left-out Monkey, and attending to our canine visitors.
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August 25, 2005 | It's not a regret, it's an "experience"

I really like dogs. And I really like my friends. So I offered to keep my friends’ dogs while they go away for the weekend, on account of it’s a big furry likefest amongst people and dogs alike! And also because I smoke an awful lot of crack sometimes.

Haha! I kid. Smoking is a nasty habit. I prefer shooting up, as it keeps the surrounding air unsullied.

I’m sorry. I’m just a tad punchy right now. Perhaps because I am completely exhausted from–*time check*–two hours with the dogs. I may need to call for reinforcements before Sunday.
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August 24, 2005 | Haven't been hit by lightning yet!

Gah. I started this whole thing about people feeling the need to be pointedly hateful and blah blah blah and you know what? No. I’m saddened when I’m misinterpreted, especially by people who lack information and, it would seem, enough happiness to keep themselves occupied. But as someone was kind enough to point out to me, they have to live with themselves forever. And I don’t.

So! I may in fact be the anti-christ according to something like .1% of my readership, but I will continue to do what I damn well please (maybe twice as much! so there!) because there’s just no pleasing some people. Those of you with a sense of humor and a little empathy and–here’s the important one–the ability to keep your head out of your or anyone else’s ass? Are pretty. The end.

But I still don’t think I have anything very interesting to talk about today. Oh well!
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August 23, 2005 | Friends

I’m a bit talked out after the last few days. Hard to believe, I know. Shut. UP.

Today my dear sweet Monkey had to have blood taken, and I daresay the lab tech had never before heard a parent soothe a frightened child with, “It’s okay, sweetie. No one’s going to stick anything up your nose.” He was a champ, though. Chickadee put her arm around him afterwards and whispered, “I totally would’ve cried. Good job, buddy.”

ANYWAY. I’m always a little nervous when people start making comments about my mothering. Good or bad, my knee-jerk response is I’M NO SUPERMOM! I’m just… a mom. But I’m always fascinated with this concept that there is some sort of perfect maternal ideal to which we all aspire, consciously or not.

That’s why it’s SO LUCKY for all of us that Melanie Lynne Hauser has written this little book called Confessions of a Super Mom. It was just released and promises to be an entertaining read, even if it might not actually hold all the secrets of attaining Mom Divinity. Melanie has a fun blog, too.

Go visit her and say congratulations and buy a copy or three of her book!

August 22, 2005 | Offspring: ecstasy and agony

Normally, I am a great big lazy brat about comments. I love receiving them. I read them all, they make me feel warm and fuzzy (generally), and I almost never send mail back to the commenters because I have the attention span of a fruit fly UNLESS you are either rubbing my feet or feeding me something yummy.

But I am so touched that so many people took the time to respond to my last post (subtitled I Am A Big Loser But Also A Comment Whore), that I am going to attempt to answer every comment. If you don’t hear from me in the next couple of days, feel free to kick my ass.

(Also: Thank you.)

And now let’s swing over to the other side of life, for a hefty dose of What Keeps Me Going:
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