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Well THAT never happens

You are just never going to guess what happened to me today. NOPE. NOT THAT.

Why, today marks the fifth time in 4 years that my Discover card was hijacked. I have no idea why I’m so popular—or why the dirtbags who try to use it always go spend it so stupidly that Discover immediately catches on—but there you go. (Lest you think I exaggerate: I give you January of this year, August 2014, January 2014, and November of 2011, otherwise known as Saladgate.)

Feeling a little light in the wallet? Just steal my Discover number. Everybody’s doing it.

Anyhoo. That put a crimp in my day, and so I felt like I needed a little levity to take my mind off of it. I bet you didn’t know I’m super artistic, but I totally am. In fact, I made you some great illustrations of parenting teenagers. (If you want prints you can just pay for them with my credit card, apparently.)

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It was nice while it lasted

We have lived in Georgia for eight years. I’ve been growing vegetables here for seven years. I’ve battled slugs, aphids, thrips, and the dreaded tomato horn worms. I’ve set up rain barrels and coaxed plants along in the constant 100+ temperatures. And never, EVER, before this year did I have any problems with my tomatoes simply disappearing.

Never before did tomatoes simply start appearing atop the fence.

Never before did my husband set up a video camera to catch the shameless thieves, until now:

Unmasking the tomato thieves from woulda on Vimeo.

It’s mid-July and I’ve already processed about a gallon of tomato sauce. But that might be it, because right now my plants are BARE.

Have I mentioned that I hate squirrels? I really, REALLY hate squirrels.

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Dogs are stupid expensive jerkfaces

I guess I can offer up a small bit of further explanation as to why I hate everything and everyone right now, though this is just the tip of the iceberg, or—as we prefer to say in my family—the tiniest sliver of the crap cake.
140921_Duncan_tie_0058Hi there! My name is Duncan. I enjoy wearing jaunty neckwear, scaring the crap out of my family, and costing a billion dollars while I do it. Also, I have a toe fetish. Please walk over here barefoot so I can lick you.(more…)

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Kids. SHEESH!

Chickadee managed to catch All The Germs during the Icepocalypse week off of school, which is doubly impressive when you consider that we were trapped in the house all that time. (Where did the germs come from? Had she been saving them up? DID SHE EAT INFECTED SNOW???) I ignored her misery for several days before caving and taking her to the doctor, at which point my just desserts were “Yeah, that looks pretty nasty, let’s get some antibiotics on board” and the subsequent and immediate coming down with the crud, myself. HOORAY.

This is where I would normally tell you that in my next life I am only going to have dogs, because kids are just too disgusting. But then this morning Duncan crapped all over our bedroom (you’re welcome for sharing) so basically my whole world is gross and I don’t know what to tell you.

I am now busy alternately blowing my nose and Cleaning All The Things, but also preemptively freaking out about summer plans, because I’m an overachiever like that. If you’re starting to think about what your teens will be doing this summer, please come on over to Alpha Mom and commiserate with me. Misery loves company, and I promise not to breathe on you.

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Merry Christmas! (P.S. Not dead.)

Oh, look. I haven’t been here for a week. No explanation or anything, just *poof*—GONE. If it’s any consolation, that week took about three years, in my mind. What? That doesn’t help? Well, now I’m just going to make it worse by saying, “We are all fine (now) but due to the nature of this particular suckitude, I am not at liberty to discuss it at this time.” And now I want to punch myself in the face, so we’re all on the same page, I think.

[I know. I KNOW. Here, let me give you details as best I can: Something Really Scary And Sucky happened, and while we were trying to deal with that, Something Completely Unrelated But Equally Sucky happened. The first thing was no one’s fault but the second one was 100% preventable with my general life mantra of “don’t be an asshole” (which turns out to be really hard for some people). One situation is now cautiously resolved but the other may end up in a lawsuit and have I ever mentioned that I hate everything? Because sweet baby Jesus, I really kind of hate everything. And THEN my work computer died, because the only thing that week was missing was a giant, expensive inconvenience. Not that I was getting any work done last week, anyway, of course, but there you go.]

And how was YOUR week?

The good (?) news is that the dogs have definitely picked up on the recent stress and have decided to put aside their differences in the interests of a nightly snuggle:

If I’d managed Christmas cards this year, I would’ve used that picture. Peace on earth! Or at least peace on our couch. Those two little hairy beasties are helping to keep me sane, which we all know is no small task.

Here’s to a better week all around.

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Meltdown City, population: me

I think one of the dirtiest little secrets of parenting is the parental meltdown. Sure, we all joke amongst ourselves about that time we got so mad that we yelled—pass that Mother of the Year trophy over here!—but the truth is that the really awful meltdowns don’t get talked about, much.

We’re too ashamed, too worried someone will point a finger and pass judgment.

Well,the advantage of really screwing up and knowing it is that there’s nothing anyone can say to you that you haven’t already said to yourself. (Silver lining, right there.) So come what may, today at Alpha Mom I’m coming clean about the giant tantrum I had this morning.

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Why you don’t mix the government and money

I keep meaning to tell you this story, and what better time than during a government shutdown? Er, slowdown. Or whatever we’re supposed to call it. It just seemed like a good time to reaffirm what every American already knows, which is that our medical system and government are—SURPRISE!—not actually operating as smoothly as they’re supposed to.

Try to contain your shock.

So! Perhaps you remember that about a year ago, I took to the blog to detail how we’d finally gotten Chickadee qualified for Medicaid coverage while she was hospitalized. That was a really big deal, both because the process is crazymaking and because if she hadn’t, we would’ve been on the hook for medical bills we had no reasonable way to pay. At the time, I thought getting the Medicaid approval would be the end of our financial issues related to her illness.

Haaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha! Yeah. Pull up a chair! (more…)

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Inconveniences of the dull and boring

“Our life is boring,” I told Otto after dinner last night. “I have nothing to blog about!”

“We should go on more adventures,” he replied. That Otto, he’s a problem solver. Though he seemed a little miffed when I declined his offer to leave the dirty dishes on the table, the children in their rooms, and grab the dog and drive off into the sunset. I’m not saying it wasn’t tempting, just that I was afraid the kids might eventually track us down. (Also, I hadn’t finished my laundry, and you should never run away without a sizable stash of clean undies.)

I just want to make it clear that I know I am
1) boring
2) relatively privileged
and
3) whining.

I KNOW. That’s not going to stop me, though. (more…)

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Conclusion: I continue to be a hazard to myself

Hey, remember that time I broke my hand on an apple and turned into a cyborg? Good times, man. That was almost a year ago, now. It was year ago next month, in fact, though I wasn’t thinking about that at all this week. After the surgery I did months of physical therapy and then also kept going back to the hand surgeon for rechecks because my hand remained kind of weird and deformed for a LONG time, prompting him to keep saying, “Let’s have another look in a couple of months.” And then I’d go back and he poke and prod and finally my hand mostly looked like a hand again and he said, “Okay, you’re good to go!” and that was that.

That was that until this past Wednesday, anyway, because I AM ME and if I made stuff like this up you’d be all, “Oh don’t be stupid, that could never happen.” That’s because on Wednesday I was making a lovely from-scratch chicken pot pie—one of Monkey’s favorite things, so he kept wandering into the kitchen and asking if it was ready yet, starting at about 2:00 in the afternoon—and the thing about me and chicken pot pie is that it’s a “one dish meal” where I end up using every pot and pan in the kitchen. I had to bake the chicken, roast the veggies, caramelize the onions, etc. I was moving things around and lifting heavy pans and making a huge mess and having a grand time.

Finally dinner was in the oven, and Licorice—who’d been under my feet all afternoon, hoping I’d drop anything at all, but hopefully some chicken—sat down by her dishes and wagged. So I pulled out the canister of kibble and scooped her dinner, and then as I was putting the container away… (more…)

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Cranky

I am cranky. [I am going to spare you a thousand-odd words about said crankiness, because really, the only thing worse than someone cranky is that cranky person trying to justify said crankiness. I HAVE MANY FEELS. Mostly they feel like throwing tantrums. Being a grownup often sucks, it turns out.]

Know what’s good for an advanced case of poormeitis? Baking. Yay! Here, I made you some healthy cookies you can eat for breakfast. You could make some for yourself/your kids and say thank you, if you wanted. Or if you wanted to pretend to be one of my kids, you could just eat them while glowering at me and expounding on the many ways in which I am the most horrible person on the planet. Either way. They’re versatile!

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