So we were just finishing up dinner on Thanksgiving when I gazed lovingly across the table at my two favorite men. Otto was still working on his mashed potatoes, but Monkey was staring off into space. And his plate was still full. "Hey, buddy," I said. "Aren't you hungry?" He roused from his... whatever it was (I want to say reverie but he was just kind of spacing out)... and said, "Huh? Not really. I'm kind of tired. Can I go upstairs and lie down for a little bit?" Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy the turkey, all the trimmings, three kinds of pie, and a child with a fever of 101! It worked out...
Dear Menopause, I admire your persistence. I really do. You're tenacious, and---generally speaking---I like that in a person. Or syndrome. Whatever. But the way you valiantly infiltrate one part of my life after another despite my attempts to tame you with artificial hormone regulation... well, it's something to behold. I have to give you that. The slow but steady weight gain as you methodically readjust my metabolism is insidious, true, but not unexpected. I don't like it. All of this additional shopping for pants is annoying. But were you satisfied to stop there? Oh, no. Not you! You had...
I would like to tell you that there comes a point in parenting where you become impervious to the rough and tumble nature of kids. Surely, there comes a point where you're no longer afraid that you "broke the baby" or whatever, right? RIGHT? Sadly, I have yet to experience this magical time when I can stop worrying about one of the children falling over dead. And while I'm perfectly willing to believe that I am slightly more neurotic than the average person (shut up), I really think this is one of those "features" of motherhood that people just don't talk about very much. Sure, we all swap...
I miss the olden times. Oh, not the REALLY olden times, like when you ate what you grew or killed yourself, because that seems fairly messy and also girls weren't allowed to wear pants. That just seems like a drag. But I mean the halcyon days of middle America when every modern invention was fabulous and nobody knew or cared that it might not exactly be good for you. Sugar cereal? YUM YUM! Canned veggies with cups of salt in 'em? DELICIOUS! And as for things like medications... well, if your kid had allergies or whatever, you didn't have to get special medicine for it. Silly! You just gave...
Because I'm doing an event for a client tonight, I have OF COURSE come down with a case of the creeping crud. Naturally. Because I am me. And I can't even blame it on the kids, because neither of them are sick. Although they're very sympathetic, each in their own way. Monkey: Oh, Mama, are you not feeling well? Here, I'll hug you and make you ALL BETTER! Chickadee: Um, Mom? Gross, I think your nose just dripped on your shirt. Feel the love, people. But then please, for your own safety, use some disinfectant afterward. Anyway, I am dragging myself around the house this morning, aided by the...
I began menopause unceremoniously at the tender young age of 33, thanks to a total hysterectomy. (Sorry for the rhyme, there; I tend to get all poetic when we chat about my uterus.) After having spent the majority of my lifetime at the mercy of everything that can possibly go wrong with those stupid organs (endometriosis! adenomyosis! infertility! ruptured ovarian cysts! hypermenorrhea, and I hope you're not eating if you click on that link!), I was not one of those women who approached the surgical suite weeping for the loss of my womanhood, or anything like that. I believe the last words I...
Thank you for all of the kind birthday wishes! As it turned out, this weekend marked what was perhaps my favorite birthday in a very long time. It was low-key and unremarkable, but no one bled or screamed or told me they hated me (to my face, anyway), and there was excellent food and many hugs and kisses, and it was all very nice. Otto took me out for a fancy dinner on Saturday night, and while my margarita wasn't quite as big as my head, it WAS very yummy. I had duck that came all fanned out on a plate like origami and Otto had frogmore stew that came in a bowl bigger than the one I use for...
We're not quite a week into the new school year, and already we're settling into a familiar routine. I hear his alarm go off and the sound of Monkey leaping out of bed just seconds before my alarm goes off; in contrast, Chickadee's first alarm is usually turned off before it has a chance to beep (she'll turn it off in the wee hours, I suspect), and the second alarm---on a second clock, across the room---goes off ten minutes later. Monkey is downstairs in about six minutes, bright-eyed and chatty and cheerful. Chickadee won't follow for at least another fifteen minutes (if not more), and she...
I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much. --- Mother Teresa I am no Mother Teresa. Just in case you were wondering. Otto's mom is in the ICU, a thousand miles away; and while God may trust us plenty, quite frankly I think He's being kind of an asshole right now.
