I went away for the weekend and it was GLORIOUS. Listen, I know I tend to exaggerate for effect, but this is simply the truth: I have not had several days free of responsibilities (read: children) in, um, a really REALLY REALLY LONG TIME, and so with the help of a few amazing girlfriends, I spent 48 hours doing every ridiculous cliched "GIRLS' NIGHT OUT" activity we could think of, far away from my delightful but needy family. We: Ate sushi, drank wine, went to a spa and wore ridiculous robes, window shopped, made chocolate, gabbed endlessly, took pictures of our food, consumed a metric ton...
The nice thing about being friends with people via the shiny box rather than in Real Life™ is that I can address only what I feel like addressing, and also you can't actually see me. This suits my inner hermit just fine. Today I'm over at Alpha Mom exposing the thing I've been trying to pretend didn't exist (la la la la! can't hear you!!), because the truth is that I have gained a lot of weight and I have been trying to ignore it rather than figure out how to get healthy again without potentially tipping my food-sensitive kid into unhealthiness. I'm not sure I'm getting it right (but...
I started off the week thinking, "Huh. It's almost March. THE SUCK IS NEARLY OVER." But I guess I forgot I still had a whole week to get through and that I am me. This past week included: Taxes, a giant box of ordered-on-the-cheap Christmas candy which turned out to have a short expiration date (and Amazon gave me my money back but now I have 15 pounds to lose and a GIANT FREAKING BOX OF DELICIOUS CANDY ABOUT TO EXPIRE), the disappearance of several key lunch-packing containers (but no one knows anything about that! IT'S DARK MAGIC, they just DISAPPEARED), a snow day completely void of...
This morning I sent both kids off to school with something akin to GLEE. Monkey chatted all morning and was clearly, FINALLY, feeling better. I've asked Chickadee several times a day for nearly a week if she's feeling okay, and with growing impatience and annoyance she has assured me that she's FINE, MOM, GEEZ, STOP ASKING. So I told someone that we're done with the flu and only Monkey got sick. Rookie mistake. Chickadee went to the nurse around 11:00. The nurse took her temperature, which was normal, and then Otto and I ended up doing triangular triage via phone and text because I was...
I am nothing if not inconsistent; I started writing here again and then I saw something shiny and wandered off. Or, more accurately, life happened and I realized I'd abandoned you again. I'm a jerk. I have no other defense. There's two things I've been meaning to share, though of course the more time that passes, the more I realize that they may be interesting only to me. NO MATTER! You will care about my Bowl Situation, yes you will, and also I can never resist the opportunity to point out when I have completely screwed up as a parental unit, so here we go. Matter the first: "You're fine!"...
If you've been reading here since the dawn of time, you might recall that I had a hysterectomy at a pretty young age. My uterus was a complete asshole, and both of my ovaries were bitches. In the space between my first period and the triumphant day when I bid the plumbing good riddance, I dealt with debilitating cramps, excessive bleeding, countless ruptured cysts, infertility and pregnancy loss, and let us not forget the endless migraine headaches. Basically I was a mess. I am much happier without any rogue organs, and I love receiving a small, controlled (read: non-system-poisoning) dose...
I make everyone watch A Christmas Story every year, because it's important that I make sure, every year, that Ralphie doesn't ACTUALLY shoot his eye out. Similarly, Chickadee requires that we watch Elf every year, because we have to confirm that Christmas is saved and also that if you're paid enough money, you can indeed eat platefuls of spaghetti and maple syrup. Or something. I have no problem watching the same movie(s) every year. I enjoy the predictability, especially as our actual lives are not nearly as predictable as I'd like. In fact, it's something of a family joke, how disastrous...
I have never actually been an addict of any kind (uhhhh... eating all the chocolate in the house so that there's not any chocolate in the house to tempt me doesn't count on that score, right?), so this may be completely off base, but I think the process of going off this stupid medication that never actually worked for me has been a lot like withdrawal. (Maybe. I have no idea, like I said, but hey, I'm a squeaky-clean, middle-aged, middle-class woman who saw Trainspotting once. Or something.) Basically, you know, I'm fine, and it's no big deal. Except that while I was taking this med, I was...
Do you have any coffee? No? It's because I've taken possession of All The Coffee. I drink it all day long, now, instead of just my usual mug in the morning. You know that song Smoke Two Joints by Bob Marley? That's me and coffee, now. I drink two cups in the morning, I drink two cups at night! I drink two cups before I drink two cups, then I drink two more! Unlike the song, however, it doesn't "make me feel alright." It makes me feel... less like death. But still very sleepy. Monkey was kind enough to come down with some sort of cold this week (step right up, come see the miracle boy with no...
