Monkey is doing a Big Project on the Holocaust for school. He's been "working on it in class" which means, of course, that this weekend we've discovered he's done... next to nothing. Monkey is many fine and wonderful things, but one of his dubious "talents" is the ability to appear extremely productive when, in fact, he is simply working on spitball origami or dreaming up the five hundred latest characters in the pseudo-Pokemon world of his own creation. Needless to say, we've been a bit busy with other concerns about Monkey, so I'll be the first to admit we haven't been as on top of his...
I am leaving town tomorrow to do a business thing, and---per my usual routine, which includes neglecting myself entirely, until doing so will make me look like a homeless person has wandered into a conference---yesterday and today I took care of making myself look like someone who gives a damn, again. Yesterday, I got a manicure and a pedicure. The last time I did that was... right before Otto and I got married. I am not so much a "regular nails" kind of gal. But I got one of those Groupon deals to do it cheap, and thought it might be a nice pick-me-up before my trip, so off I went. I found...
You will never, ever, EVER hear me accusing Chickadee of being easy. Ever. But she is a girl, and so has stereotypically managed to be... girly. The kind of grief she causes tends to be emotional anguish, rather than, say, actual physical destruction. She doesn't make all that much noise. (Sure, the *STOMPSTOMPSLAM* routine is not exactly quiet, but in her everyday existence volume modulation is not a problem.) She is not prone to, say, flinging herself around. And then came Monkey. The joke in this house is that a herd of elephants lives in Monkey's room. Whenever there is a large crash,...
It would be wrong to give my perpetually-ass-dragging, non-morning-person 12-year-old a cup of coffee in the morning to see if it helps her navigate the morning routine more than my constant nagging, time checks, and exasperated yelling does, right? I'm just asking. For, um, fun.
It's not that the irony of being someone who mostly works at home in solitude (and prefers jeans when heading out into the world) doling out fashion advice is lost on me, it's just that it all seems to have become quite SERIOUS up in here, the last couple of weeks. And I need a break. Also, I've been shopping. And out in the world with people. And I have opinions. STRONG opinions, I guess you might say, about things that people are wearing and doing. No one died and left me boss, but my inner Fashion Hulk would like to vent a bit. (My inner Fashion Hulk likes to put on my son's Hulk...
You'll have to forgive me for being a little bit giddy, today. My children are away. My husband is away. I've had the ENTIRE DAY to myself and I hardly knew what to do first. I ended up going "out for coffee" quickly... you know, for nearly three hours. Can't do that when the family is around! And then I went to Goodwill, with all the other party animals. And finally, I've spent some serious quality time petting the dog, doing laundry, and catching up on America's Next Top Model. (Spoiler alert! Jaslene won cycle 8! I had no idea. Even though they're on... what... cycle 15?) (It's like I...
The best whines are ones wrapped up by an incontrovertible statement of pitifulness, one you cannot help but grant an immediate and full free Pass To Wallow on, as it were. So for a week if I need to complain about anything, I'm sure to tie it all up with a simple, "... and I can't sleep because of the stupid Prednisone!" Because how could you possibly argue with me THEN? You can't. Because I'm simply TOO PATHETIC. You wouldn't argue with a woman suffering from steroid insomnia unless you were some sort of MONSTER. This is a skill I've passed along to my children. Monkey---Literal Boy that...
I am fascinated by lying. Seriously. I always have been. I was a theater major, for pete's sake. The act of pulling on a persona has always been appealing to me, and my parents are only too happy to remind me that I was something of a pathological liar in my youth. I do recall sometimes saying things just to see if lying would work, and of course can think of plenty of times I simply lied as an attempt to get out of trouble. This may or may not be on my mind because yesterday, after I posted about our SUPER FANTASTIC morning and my caving on taking my child to school because it was so very...
I am a totally awesome parent. Possibly the very best around, in fact. I am consistent. I am firm but loving. I pick my battles, refuse to sweat the small stuff, and set up natural consequences. I have high expectations and foster an environment in which independence and success are the natural default. All of this, of course, is IN MY HEAD. It's philosophy and theory. And even the parts which I manage to put into practice never seem to have the results I expect, which is WEIRD, you know, because back before I became a mother I'm pretty sure I knew everything. Damn these children and their...
