My name is Grumplestiltskin Articles

It was nice while it lasted

We have lived in Georgia for eight years. I've been growing vegetables here for seven years. I've battled slugs, aphids, thrips, and the dreaded tomato horn worms. I've set up rain barrels and coaxed plants along in the constant 100+ temperatures. And never, EVER, before this year did I have any problems with my tomatoes simply disappearing. Never before did tomatoes simply start appearing atop the fence. Never before did my husband set up a video camera to catch the shameless thieves, until now: Unmasking the tomato thieves from woulda on Vimeo. It's mid-July and I've already processed...

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Dogs are stupid expensive jerkfaces

I guess I can offer up a small bit of further explanation as to why I hate everything and everyone right now, though this is just the tip of the iceberg, or---as we prefer to say in my family---the tiniest sliver of the crap cake. "Hi there! My name is Duncan. I enjoy wearing jaunty neckwear, scaring the crap out of my family, and costing a billion dollars while I do it. Also, I have a toe fetish. Please walk over here barefoot so I can lick you." So hey, FUNNY STORY: Remember when Duncan got all sick and weird and possibly tumor-y and had to have surgery? And I was worried he was going to...

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Kids. SHEESH!

Chickadee managed to catch All The Germs during the Icepocalypse week off of school, which is doubly impressive when you consider that we were trapped in the house all that time. (Where did the germs come from? Had she been saving them up? DID SHE EAT INFECTED SNOW???) I ignored her misery for several days before caving and taking her to the doctor, at which point my just desserts were "Yeah, that looks pretty nasty, let's get some antibiotics on board" and the subsequent and immediate coming down with the crud, myself. HOORAY. This is where I would normally tell you that in my next life I...

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Merry Christmas! (P.S. Not dead.)

Oh, look. I haven't been here for a week. No explanation or anything, just *poof*---GONE. If it's any consolation, that week took about three years, in my mind. What? That doesn't help? Well, now I'm just going to make it worse by saying, "We are all fine (now) but due to the nature of this particular suckitude, I am not at liberty to discuss it at this time." And now I want to punch myself in the face, so we're all on the same page, I think. [I know. I KNOW. Here, let me give you details as best I can: Something Really Scary And Sucky happened, and while we were trying to deal with that,...

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Meltdown City, population: me

I think one of the dirtiest little secrets of parenting is the parental meltdown. Sure, we all joke amongst ourselves about that time we got so mad that we yelled---pass that Mother of the Year trophy over here!---but the truth is that the really awful meltdowns don't get talked about, much. We're too ashamed, too worried someone will point a finger and pass judgment. Well,the advantage of really screwing up and knowing it is that there's nothing anyone can say to you that you haven't already said to yourself. (Silver lining, right there.) So come what may, today at Alpha Mom I'm coming...

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Why you don’t mix the government and money

I keep meaning to tell you this story, and what better time than during a government shutdown? Er, slowdown. Or whatever we're supposed to call it. It just seemed like a good time to reaffirm what every American already knows, which is that our medical system and government are---SURPRISE!---not actually operating as smoothly as they're supposed to. Try to contain your shock. So! Perhaps you remember that about a year ago, I took to the blog to detail how we'd finally gotten Chickadee qualified for Medicaid coverage while she was hospitalized. That was a really big deal, both because the...

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Inconveniences of the dull and boring

"Our life is boring," I told Otto after dinner last night. "I have nothing to blog about!" "We should go on more adventures," he replied. That Otto, he's a problem solver. Though he seemed a little miffed when I declined his offer to leave the dirty dishes on the table, the children in their rooms, and grab the dog and drive off into the sunset. I'm not saying it wasn't tempting, just that I was afraid the kids might eventually track us down. (Also, I hadn't finished my laundry, and you should never run away without a sizable stash of clean undies.) I just want to make it clear that I know I...

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Conclusion: I continue to be a hazard to myself

Hey, remember that time I broke my hand on an apple and turned into a cyborg? Good times, man. That was almost a year ago, now. It was year ago next month, in fact, though I wasn't thinking about that at all this week. After the surgery I did months of physical therapy and then also kept going back to the hand surgeon for rechecks because my hand remained kind of weird and deformed for a LONG time, prompting him to keep saying, "Let's have another look in a couple of months." And then I'd go back and he poke and prod and finally my hand mostly looked like a hand again and he said, "Okay,...

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Cranky

I am cranky. [I am going to spare you a thousand-odd words about said crankiness, because really, the only thing worse than someone cranky is that cranky person trying to justify said crankiness. I HAVE MANY FEELS. Mostly they feel like throwing tantrums. Being a grownup often sucks, it turns out.] Know what's good for an advanced case of poormeitis? Baking. Yay! Here, I made you some healthy cookies you can eat for breakfast. You could make some for yourself/your kids and say thank you, if you wanted. Or if you wanted to pretend to be one of my kids, you could just eat them while glowering...

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