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Things I did this weekend

Alternately, Stuff I did while avoiding doing actual work.
Or even, I am super productive when I’m procrastinating.

* Missed seeing a friend on her birthday because I am so disorganized.
* Apologized to said friend and made plans for later this week.
* Realized I hadn’t seen another friend in far too long; made more plans.
* Talked with a third friend about future plans when she returns from a trip.
* Spent a full five minutes marveling at how far I’ve come since my cave-dwelling hermit days because THREE FRIENDS! PLANS! SOCIAL! WOOOOOO!
* Stripped all beds, washed sheets, made up all beds.
* Laid down on freshly made bed wondering if there is anything better in the whole world than fresh, clean sheets on an unrumpled bed.
* Was immediately joined by a dog with muddy paws. (You know in cartoons how there’s an audible *POP* when a character’s happy bubble is burst? It was like that.)
* Did more laundry.
* Stalked my husband’s social media to see how his trip was going.
* Talked to my husband on the phone and assured him that I wasn’t worried at all.
* Texted with my daughter during the car parts of their journey (Her: I’m boooored! Me: Try talking to Otto…?) and enjoyed the radio silence that signified having-too-much-fun-to-talk during the non-car parts. (more…)

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Yeah, we’re cheesy

So the Very Good News is that Duncan is now two weeks out from his surgery and got his stitches out and his inflatable collar off and never have you seen a dog so happy. He loves everyone and everything, and this is even in light of the Not So Good News that wearing that stupid collar (to keep him from eating his stitches, mind you) ended up giving him a whopper of an ear infection. (Apparently having your ears sort of pushed closed for a couple of weeks is bad.) By the time I discovered it, his ear was seriously grody and caked with… stuff. Ear cheese. Doesn’t everyone call it ear cheese? We call it ear cheese. Which then leads to a host of comments about how “He’s such a Gouda boy!” and “He’s just making some Mutt-zerella….”

(I know. We’re terrible.)

Anyway. I gave the vet what little money we had left and now everyone is healthy and good-smelling (Duncan finally got a post-surgical bath; Licorice took herself on an adventure thanks to an HVAC worker here leaving our gate open, and while I think she enjoyed the pond, she also needed a bath) and shhhhh, everyone act cool, because I think it’s all good.

In other news, longtime readers may remember that Something Terrible happened a looooong time ago, back before Otto and I got married, when I brought the kids down to Georgia to visit. At the time I was so upset I couldn’t even talk about it. Here we are, seven and a half years later, and I think we may have finally come full circle. You can go read about it over at Alpha Mom, if you like.

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A time to plant, a time to complain

I have a love/hate relationship with my garden, as many of you know. Mostly it’s love. Really. I love growing my own food, and I love the excuse to go outside and graze like a cow. (Ummmm. Maybe not like a cow. I don’t stand out there and eat grass, or anything. But I’ve been known to park myself by the cherry tomatoes, is all I’m saying.)

On the flip side, I do hate bugs. All bugs. Many, many bugs. And I’m not super-fond of my yearly “quality time with the children” fantasy being disrupted with petty concerns like “It’s HOT OUT HERE!” and “I’m getting eaten by mosquitoes!” and “Why do you hate us?” Is a little help in the garden so much to ask? Oh, well.

Regardless, I do think there’s enormous value in growing food with kids, no matter how whiny they are. (The kids. Not the food. If your food is whiny, you’re doing it wrong.) So I wrote about it for Alpha Mom, and I hope you might try it yourself if you haven’t already. There’s nothing quite like a salad from your own back yard, trust me. (Also there’s nothing quite like a child gazing up at you in adoration and saying, “I thought this was a really stupid idea but I guess it’s okay after all because you made those dumb zucchini into brownies.”)

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Oh, the places we went!

I feel like I could probably write an excellent Dr. Seuss-esque book about some of our recent adventures, although small children might not find them as entertaining as I’d like.

Into the kayak you’ll go,
You’ll plan to go slow…
But oh, the river goes fast,
Until sanity’s flown past!
And then you might need a plaster cast.

I kid, of course. No one is injured. Much. (Otto doesn’t want to talk about it, though.) But we did go kayaking. And then I wrote about it for Alpha Mom. You should read it, maybe.

(Also, I am mulling over Things I Can Write About because I know it’s been a while. The next post may be Things I Spent Money On, because if there’s anything better than a person navel-gazing about their life, it’s a person navel-gazing while talking about gratuitous consumerism.)

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What we know and what we don’t

I keep meaning to come write about stuff. Mother’s Day! (Monkey got me a mug that sports a monkey, as in, the handle is a monkey’s arm. Also, the monkey has visible nipples. Not creepy at all. Of course I love it even more because of the creepy factor.) Our familyversary! (SEVEN YEARS! “How have you put up with all of this for that long?” I ask my beloved. He looks quizzical and says he has no idea.) Having this new job with an actual HR department that sends me pamphlets about benefits in the mail. (“I’M A REAL BOY, GEPPETTO!” I screamed as I opened it. “Mom, you are so weird,” said Chickie.) Also, school is almost over and I haven’t strangled anyone. Real life accomplishments are happening here, in other words.

But I’m so busy not strangling anyone (NO MATTER HOW CLOSE THEY ARE TO FLUNKING GYM, OH MY GOD) and enjoying having other people pay into Social Security for me that there’s precious little time for that, I guess. Instead, I’ve been reading stuff from people about how we feel about motherhood and whether people tend to regret motherhood… and so instead, I wrote this over at Alpha Mom. (Spoiler alert: I don’t regret it.) Mostly I think there are things we cannot possibly know in advance, and at the end of the day, I tend to think that’s a good thing.

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Life is funny like that

I have been working out. If you’ve known me for any length of time, you know that this is not a thing I do because I like it or because I love being healthy or anything like that; this is a thing I started doing because I feel BLAH and squishy and weak and old. I have tried to develop a regular exercise regimen, on and off, at various times in my life. I’ve had a modicum of success for months or even years at a time, sometimes. And then slowly I give it up, because I never LIKE it enough to keep going just because it speaks to me. (I have friends who say they LOVE working out. I strongly suspect this to be the modern-day form of no soap radio.)

I do not love this thing, this carving out of at least 30 minutes every day to move my body and pause my mind. But I am kind of getting to where I can see that it’s Not Awful. (“Not Awful” may be as close to “I like it” as I ever get. Baby steps.) The past few years have taken a toll on my health in ways I never could’ve predicted, and the one silver lining is that now when I exercise, I kind of appreciate it. (Sometimes Otto and I refer to my time on the elliptical as PEDALING AWAY THE RAGE and while I doubt anyone is going to patent that as a a tagline for a marketable exercise program, it works.)

These days, I move more, and talk less. I still don’t move enough and talk too much, but it’s progress in the right direction. (more…)

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Life! And other stuff!

Remember when I used to write here all the time? No? Huh. Me neither. But I heard a rumor that it used to be so. You know, back before life chewed me up and spit me out as a humorless husk of crankiness.

[HA! Just kidding. I'm TOTALLY CHEERFUL! I mean, most of the time. Some of the time. Occasionally. Look, I'm working on it. (No, really, I'm literally working on it. Like, old-school literally, not the new-fangled literally that makes linguists weep.)]

Anyway. Stuff has been happening, I just haven’t had the time to sit down and write about it because of reasons. (Those reasons include—but are not limited to—children, ice cream, pollen, chocolate, the return of Mad Men, work, trying to exercise regularly even though we all know I hate exercising, illness, laundry, fantasizing with my husband about all the things we’ll do once the kids have finally gone to jail moved out, school meetings, and shopping for groceries.) (So not kidding about the groceries thing. Seven gallons of milk a week. SEVEN GALLONS. I need a second fridge. Also a nap.)

Just how thrilling has it been? Let me count the ways! (more…)

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Thou shall suck it up and talk about it

There’s this magical time period when your little kids start becoming more self-sufficient and fun to do things with that do not involve Candyland or being a pretty pretty princess, and for a few years, you can totally be lulled into feeling like being a parent is totally awesome and not that hard after all.

And then they become teenagers. (SURPRISE!) So then you’ll find yourself saying things you never imagined would need saying, and doing things like putting a condom on a banana and then watching your kid eat the banana afterward because, hey, that’s a very safe banana and it shouldn’t go to waste.

Yep.

In an effort to spread the horror joy, I’m over at Alpha Mom today, outlining the commandments of talking to your teens about sex.

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Waking up is hard to do

I commented to someone the other day that I really never know how to react to the (often placating) usage of the phrase “All teens do that, it’s totally normal.” Do they/is it really? On the one hand, I don’t appreciate challenges we face due to my kids’ “extras” being brushed off as no biggie; but on the other hand, it turns out that I have no idea what normal teens do. It’s doubtful that I was ever a normal anything, myself, and my kids are not neurotypical, so how the heck am I supposed to know if they’re being normal teens or being their special snowflakey pain-in-the-butt YOONIQUE selves?

The one thing I have managed to learn is that a little humor brought to even the most aggravating situation can help a lot. I’m sure the kids don’t think it helps them as much as it helps me, but it helps me not to strangle them, so it’s all good.

Without further ado: Feel free to head over to Alpha Mom for the ballad of the school morning teen.

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The best-laid plans

Or, Things I did wrong recently.

Or, Life is hard because I am dumb.

Or, Allow me to make you feel better about your life choices.

I keep telling myself that I should just come over here and post some dog pictures and call it a day—after all, who needs content when you have furballs, right?—but it hasn’t happened and now all of that procrastination has paid off, because it turns out that while no one day has been blog-worthy, lately, taken in sum total I have a veritable epic of life-and-how-to-do-it-wrong to share.

Every day is a new opportunity to do something else stupid, as I always say. (I never say that. I should, though.) Without further ado, various illustrations of my suitability (or lack thereof) as a functional adult: (more…)

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