Every time I think I'm getting the hang of this parenting gig (don't worry, it doesn't happen all that often; just the rare, delusional flash of perceived competence), something new comes up. Chickadee's been doing marching band for years, y'know, so I figured I had the routine down and everything would be old hat with Monkey. But I forgot that he's a boy and she's a girl. I mean, it's not like I didn't know, but I forgot that once they got into uniform fittings there are... ahhhh... different concerns for boys and girls. Marching band uniforms are... very form-fitting. VERY. FORM-FITTING....
This summer kind of flew by with a great sucking *WOOOOOOOSH*, and I don't know how it happened. I mean, I do---we went on a trip, then Monkey went on a trip, and Otto went on a few trips, and for the first time in forever I had One Giant Job rather than Lots O Little Jobs, and Duncan kept acting like he was dying and had to have surgery, and then there was band camp, and POOF: summer's over. It was just... weird. It kind of makes me long for those days when summer seemed to drag on and on and I did a little jig when the kids headed back to school, because there's just no pleasing me. We...
Consider this my white flag of surrender for this week. I am done. DONE. I give up. There's a stomach bug being circulated around band camp, because of course there is. Both kids have had it. One of them had it twice. (Overachiever!) I may have also had it, but it's hard to tell because this weekend I threw out my neck (making a bed, because I'm all gangster like that) and in a moment of extreme pain and poor judgment decided I could take some of these leftover painkillers here, I'm sure it'll be FINE. Hey, not fine! Turns out that Tylenol and Advil do exactly fuck-all for a frozen neck, but...
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....
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?...
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...
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...
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...
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...
