I realized, writing it down, how very wrong that sounds, or perhaps as if I'm about to tell you all about my new emo band. I know. But there is no help for it, for this is what I must tell you about. Or rather, this is what I was GOING to tell you about, before Joshilyn beat me to it because she just HAPPENED to be blogging while we were chatting earlier. Bless her heart. Anyway, she beat me to it, but I will tell you even MORE because really, is there such a thing as too much warty genitalia? Of course there isn't. So let's start with the obvious: 1) No, I'm not talking about ME. Or anyone...
You know what aggravates me? You'd better sit down; it's kind of a long list. Kidding. (It really IS a long list. But lucky for you, I have one specific thing in mind.) I hate it when someone whose writing I love has a blog but then hardly ever posts. I'm greedy. I WANT MORE. The only thing that soothes me is that when the writing comes, it's totally worth the wait. Erica sure does know how to spin a yarn, folks. Go read, and when you're done laughing, leave her a comment so that maybe next time she won't go five months between posts.
So I was sitting here tonight, feeling kind of blah. The children-- somehow sensing that I had written some sentimental glop about them yesterday--rewarded me today by looking me squarely in the eyes when I informed them that there would be no lunch until the playroom was clean and saying, "Fine, we're not even hungry." That was at 10:00 this morning. Lunch was at... 2:30. Not because the playroom was clean. But because they had whipped themselves into a hysterical froth over how starving they were, and the playroom was... cleanER... and I didn't want the neighbors to call CPS. ("WE'RE...
So much for liveblogging her labor (I wasn't really sure how she'd pull that off, frankly), but I've heard from Zoot's Mom that Zoot gave birth to a beautiful baby girl this morning. Welcome to the world, NikkiZ! And congrats to the entire Zoot clan!
That news that wasn't mine to share? The cat's out of the bag. There are all kinds of people in this world. Some walk by us as we journey. Some place obstacles in our path. Some walk with us for a bit. And a very special few make us remember why we're travelling in the first place. Go give a virtual hug to my darling Kira, if you can pull her down from that cloud for a minute. This sort of happiness is rare, and hard-won. I dare you to read her entry and not melt a little.
I went to a party tonight. It was... festive! And... party-like! With... snacks! When I was younger I was a very social creature. Now that I am old and cranky and hate everyone and everything, I would rather be a hermit. But still, a part of my brain senses that I used to enjoy being around other people who say things like "How about that game!" and "Try the pinot grigio!" And so, when I am invited, I go. And try not to embarrass myself too badly. Hey, brief pause here to say THANK YOU and YOU'RE SO PRETTY to everyone who's ordered Woulda Coulda Shoulda merchandise so far. I hope to someday...
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...
I know that on Friday night I grandly promised that I would be back the next day with pictures and more tales and perhaps a pony and a decorative vial of crack for each and every one of you (who even KNOWS what I promised; I was just the smallest, wee bit tipsy), but it turns out that I lied. But as we know that I am always blaming others, I have chosen to blame this on Mr. Kutcher. Do not even attempt to talk me out of it; it's all his fault and you cannot convince me otherwise. Exhibit A: We rented another Ashton film on Saturday night, hoping to have a repeat of ceaselessly mocking his...
