... for everyone to LOSE THEIR FREAKIN' MINDS. Seriously, I don't know what it is about December---whether the twinkling lights, much like certain over-the-top animated programs, cause people's brains to short-circuit, or if all of that GOODWILL and CHEER is just destined to backfire, or WHAT---but this is the time of year when otherwise reasonable people just up and go NUTS. And I don't want to cast aspersions, really, I don't. But I'm pretty sure this is NOT what Jesus had in mind. (Then again, Jesus strikes me as the sort who would find the birthday hoopla unnecessary. Though a national...
"When should we call?" she asks, as we tuck hairbrushes and toothpaste into the overnight bag, and I remind her brother that actually, "a change of clothes" generally includes underwear, as well. "Honey, you're gonna be gone, like, a DAY. A day and a half. You don't need to call. Just go have fun with Daddy." "But I LIKE to call," she says. "We'll call you tonight after dinner." "That's fine, you're welcome to call," I answer, "but we're going to a movie tonight, so we might not be here. And then we'll have our cell phones off, too. So don't worry if you call and we can't answer." She...
A friend emailed me this morning and basically said that if I was still sick, I should just forget about blogging today and rest, instead. I would love to do that, but I'm at sort of a critical juncture, here. While I'm not entirely well, I'm not sick enough to justify taking the day off of work. (Not that writing HERE is work, but I do have those dozen other work-type places that sort of expect me to make with the words by deadline, and all of that.) I'm whiny and achy and snotty, but bailing on work would push me over into hypochondriac territory, I think. Alas. I prefer not to do that...
I decided to have some quality time with the kidlets this weekend. DAMMIT. It seems absurd to me that we would need to schedule such a thing, but sometimes if I don't make a mental and calendar commitment to it (complete with a mild expletive), it doesn't happen. So it was slated to go down this weekend, like it or not. We started it off in classic sloth style with a pajama day on Saturday. We all slept late and never got dressed. Well, I take that back---I eventually showered and got dressed around dinnertime, because I wanted to walk out and get the mail, and after having spent the entire...
So. Tonight. Tonight is the big gala. It's a black-tie event, you know. Fancy schmancy. So naturally Otto and some of his other professor colleagues (please note: all males) got together and decided that they could get away with just wearing suits to this thing. Even though the non-faculty, donor-type guests will all be in tuxes. Even though I will be wearing a torture device underneath my full-length gown. Yeah. Fine. I took a couple of deep breaths and said that that was FINE if they'd all agreed they could get away with it, but that AT THE VERY LEAST he needed to buy some new shoes and a...
I discovered very early on in my mothering career that FOR ME (not saying this is the rule for everyone, of course), I'm incapable of maintaining a friendship with a fellow mom whose parenting style is completely different than mine. Not because I think she's bad or wrong, but simply because get-togethers involving all of the children will cause my head to explode. If Little Billy is, for example, sitting on top of Chickadee and kicking all of her teeth out one by one (plink! plink! plink!) and Billy's mom is laughing and saying, "Boys just play really differently than girls, huh?" well,...
This weekend Otto and I were trying to spend some quality time with the children---by which I mean that we adults were holed up in the office, each working away on our separate computers, while the kids figured out new and exciting ways to throw bowling balls at each other on the Wii---when our internet connection... started. . . slooooooooooowiiiing. . . down. Wayyyy down. Like, "Dammit, Otto, stop uploading monster photos!" "Uh, I'm not uploading ANYTHING!" kind of slow-down. So of course we called to report the problem and they had us do some transfer rate tests that proved that our DSL...
I have to say that I think I've empirically proven that misery does, indeed, love company---I found it immensely gratifying reassuring that many of YOU are in something of a funk recently, as well. It hadn't even occurred to me before that the time change might be a factor, and that's because I have brain damage. Because I have Seasonal Affective Disorder and OF COURSE the time change is a factor, moron, just like it is EVERY YEAR. I've dug out my trusty full-spectrum light, and we'll see if that helps. But just to cover all of my bases, I've decided to try some other stuff, too. It just...
The good news is that Chickadee seems to have made a full recovery from her... whatever it was. The bad news is that Monkey was looking a little punky (hey, that rhymes) yesterday and today... although, of course, you have to catch him either mid-puke or with a raging fever to get him to admit that yes, maybe he's feeling a mite tired. So we shall see. The worse news is that I am not feeling so fine, myself. It could just be fatigue, I suppose. Or something wholly unrelated. Or it could be my propensity to tuck a miserable child right into my bed (on my pillow) and give them lots of hugs and...
