This week seems determined to flatten me and suck out my will to live, and it's only Tuesday. This does not bode well, I'm thinking. While I go try to find my mojo (have you seen it? I think I dropped it somewhere yesterday), feel free to head on over to Alpha Mom to read all about how we carnivores found mealtime happiness with the rogue vegetarian in the house. Not gonna lie; it helps that said vegetarian is very cute.
First of all: thank you for all of the suggestions, yesterday. I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at the various alarm clocks you recommended, and giggling about things like squirting my child with water like a bad kitty and/or covering her in dog treats to get Licorice to do wake-up duty. For now, we're trying three separate alarms (her idea, and it did get her up this morning), and I also went ahead and ordered an old-fashioned hammer-on-the-bells clock to try as it was the cheapest solution and I am hoping I won't have to go all the way to an expensive bed-shaking clock. And now...
Far be it from me to complain about the south when, in fact, there is little I detest more than snow and coldness. I mean, yes, occasionally I need to whine a little bit about the bugs. Perhaps it is true that I have compared our little patch of land to a spot on the surface of the sun, mid-summer, when it truly feels like we will never be un-sweaty again. And ideologically speaking, it maybe wasn't the very brightest move for this pair of pro-education northerners to find ourselves in a region where our congressman believes evolution to be "lies from the pit of hell," true, but... hang on....
Otto is a visual person, and I am a make-with-the-many-words person. Somehow we manage to communicate pretty well, though occasionally I'm sure Otto wishes I would just stop talking and every so often I do feel compelled to ask how a visual guy ends up deciding that THAT shirt looks okay with THOSE pants. These are minor blips. On the whole we have managed to forge our own language, an awesome perk of having known each other for nearly two decades dozen years (whoops, hey, we've known each other over half our lives). Today Otto surprised me by suggesting we go out to lunch, which was a rare...
Today's the day that I get up early and spend my entire day as a slave to Want Not, and the children are informed ahead of time that I will be essentially unavailable for the day and they should fend for themselves. So I've been working for the last, oh, seven and a half hours already (ZOMG), and the kids are giving me pretty wide berth, but they just swarmed the kitchen---which is right off of my office---to forage for leftovers for lunch. And that's why one of the first things I said that didn't involve shopping, bargains, or Amazon today was, "PLEASE DO NOT RUB LEFTOVER ROLLS ON YOUR...
My site issues continue apace, as I'm sure you've noticed. Apparently there are people who just sit around attacking web servers for... fun? And my hosting provider says I've now been under attack for about a week, and they're doing their best, and mostly I want to call up the people responsible and ask them if maybe they've ever tried Qwirkle or Scrabble or occasionally having sex? Because I think they might find it more entertaining and less likely to make people want to kill them. Anyway. While I wasn't here (or, more accurately, HERE wasn't here...), I was other places. Like, for the...
I'm reading recaps of Mom 2.0 all over the place, this week. It sort of makes me wish I could do one of those deep and profound sorts of rundowns, the kind where I tell you all about how I was inspired and enchanted and finally met this or that person and they were astonishingly lovely and whatever. I mean, that sort of thing does happen, for me, but somehow I come home and put my hands on the keyboard and tell you a story about how I fell down, instead. Le sigh. The truth is that I the anxiety I normally feel about heading into a conference situation is topped only by the concern that once...
One of the things that my daughter's impending teenagerhood has brought into sharp focus for me is my frustration with finding the balance between society's messages about what it means to be female, my own experiences growing up, and the ever-looming fear that somehow there's a "right" way to foster good self-esteem that I might be missing. We have entered the days of "I need to look a certain way" and "Those are the Pretty People" and "It doesn't matter to me except that it does." Tricky waters, this. Does anyone get out unscathed? I feel ill-equipped to aid in navigation, particularly as...
Yesterday I did a Skype interview with Stephanie O'Dea as part of her "Real Moms Making Real Money (at home, in their pajamas) And How You Can, Too!" series. (I was not wearing my pajamas. I showered for the interview; I hope that didn't totally tarnish my cred. Hopefully my crazy hair makes up for it.) Stephanie and I have been friends for years, now, and we went wandering off on a zillion tangents, and had a wonderful time, but I don't know how much truly useful information ends up being imparted as I wave my head around and babble endlessly. (The audio and the video didn't synch up quite...