Everything is fine. In the grand scheme, that is. Everyone's basically okay, there's nothing here we can't handle, and yet... it's been a hard week or two for various reasons. I'm finding that the interesting thing about being a family who's weathered some Serious Shit is that when a problem crops up, you'd think (correction: I'D think) that we'd sort of go, "Oh hey, no biggie, we've handled WAY worse than this!" The reality is that a problem crops up and everyone melts into a puddle of OH GOD NO NOT THIS AGAIN because emotions have a way of beating out rational thought, every time. It's...
For some reason, we don't really get trick-or-treaters at our house. This means I buy a bunch of candy "just in case" and then no one comes and then a month later I wonder why I'm fat. It's a mystery! I wonder if I'll ever solve it! Nonetheless, some Halloween merriment did commence. Monkey had been declaring himself the symbol of American freedom for months, so it was a natural choice for AP Dress-Up Day for him to go as, well, the symbol of American freedom: (I think his teacher liked it. At least, midday I got a text asking where I'd gotten the wings. I'm going to assume Monkey got his...
That would be me; I'm the old dog. In this instance, anyway. Duncan is ALSO an old dog, but I don't think he's learned any new tricks lately, unless you want to count the fact that he has recently started barking at the oven in the evenings. (Chances are, with his limited vision, he's seeing some movement in the form of his reflection and getting startled and thinking someone is there. Or, if you like the kids' explanation, it's that Duncan Donut has realized his long-lost twin brother Krispy Kreme is trapped inside the oven. KRISPY. IN THE OVEN. Get it? My children are terrible people. They...
Actually... most of you probably WOULD like me when I'm angry. But other people... not so much. Anyway, I'm trying to cool down, but: I'm angry. Every day, in a dozen tiny ways, the world misunderstands my kids. That's the nature of the beast and my mantra is to assume people are generally well-meaning and kind, and ignorance isn't malice, after all. But every now and then, the ignorance is hard to bear. I dusted off my soap box for this one, because disability is not laziness, and teachers---of all people!---should know that. C'mon. It's 2015.
Bananas are a very tricky thing 'round here. They have to be ripe---but not TOO RIPE---and they cannot have any signs of bruising (because that's not a thing that ever happens to bananas... oh, wait...) because that is Completely Unacceptable. This is where people who are new here assume that I have toddlers because HAHA no one over the age of 4 would be this picky about fruit, right? Yeah. No. (For the record, it is really only one child who is super-picky about the state of bananas, but then the OTHER child insists things like, "I don't like watermelon" and WHO DOESN'T LIKE WATERMELON,...
I watch way more TV than I probably should, and some of it is great, but a lot more of it is downright terrible. I'm okay with this. I don't go out and get plastered or gamble; if watching stupid programming is my biggest flaw, I figure I'm doing okay. Recently Chickadee got first me, and then Monkey, hooked on Girl Code. Have you seen it? It's AWFUL. Just, like, cringeworthy in every possible way. It's so bad, it's FANTASTIC. If you're not easily embarrassed and are looking for an open door to talk to your teens about sex and other uncomfortable topics, Girl Code is your show. It is MTV's...
The older I get, the easier it is to figure out what really matters. I had a friend in high school who often proclaimed that she didn't "suffer fools gladly," and while it was a grandiose turn of phrase, at 16 or however old we were, it felt kind of... rude. It felt like the point was that stupid people are stupid. Now that I'm older and arguably wiser, it feels more like a declaration of focusing on what's important. I'm not always good at it, even now, but I'm improving. Also, I believe God has a wicked sense of humor, so of course I have a couple of teenagers to help show me the way via...
I'm beginning to suspect that Otto was excited about Chickadee finally getting her driver's license because it afforded him the legitimate opportunity to talk endlessly about Our Next Car. Otto LOVES talking cars, in a way I will never understand, but I tolerate it because I adore him and he's cute. Also, any time I go to him and say, "There's a light on my dashboard that sort of looks like a fish that lit up...?" he knows exactly what it is (and fixes it). He's handy to have around, even if he gets a little too excited about cars, sometimes. Here's what matters to me in a car: 1) It should...
I should have known the second I posted about sitting in the new dog bed to encourage Duncan to love it that someone would ask for a picture. And because I live to serve and also have zero dignity, well, why not? Besides, I thought it was time to really embrace my exquisite, graceful beauty, and lay claim to my child's, too. Here I am: Duncan was perplexed. Possibly because classy is my middle name. And here's my girl: We are practically twins, no? Oh, did you happen to notice that awesome hair? Don't worry, I've got the whole scoop on how to do unicorn hair over at Alpha Mom, if you want to...
