Yesterday was Otto's birthday. I like it very much when Otto has a birthday, because he is the youngest man I've ever dated (I, apparently, used to have a thing for older men), and it is only between his birthday and the following summer when I have MY birthday that I can claim he's a year older than I am. (Why yes, his birthday IS all about me. Why do you ask?) I have been ribbing Otto for a while about what we'd do for his birthday, because my birthday this year didn't work out all that well, due to a number of circumstances. It wasn't a big deal, really, but you have to understand that...
I'm sure that there's a point at which it will stop amazing me, but it hasn't happened yet. And so in the meantime I shall continue to GOGGLE at the small miracle which is Otto's facility with the children. It's a strange thing, this, because obviously I would not have married him if I didn't believe him capable of this. I KNEW HE HAD IT IN HIM, of course, but it's one thing to know deep in my heart of hearts and another thing altogether to watch it unfold in front of me. It makes me warm and fuzzy for the kids, because---despite what some other people related to them might think---there is...
I had pumpkin pie for breakfast, as I consider that the inalienable right of anyone who spends two straight days cooking. I'm sorry; don't try to convince me otherwise. The rules are clearly such that the day after Thanksgiving means any red-blooded American must do a few (if not all) of the following things: 1) Sleep late. 2) Eat pie for breakfast. 3) Put away the (third) batch of Thanksgiving dishes that had been drying. 4) Start a pot of soup with the turkey carcass. 5) Announce that even though the fridge is stuffed to bursting with all manner of food, we need to go grocery shopping,...
Dear Otto, Happy halfiversary! I'm sorry I spent most of it on the couch and/or unconscious. I guess the stress of the last week finally triumphed, and the germs just had to have their way with me this weekend. It seems like YOU having your way with me might've been a more fitting way to celebrate this milestone, but the germs will go away and you won't, so there's that. (I have already sent your brothers running for the bleach, to cleanse their eyeballs. Sorry, guys.) This weekend was momentous for two reasons: First, it marked six months since we got married (AND! it goes without SAYING...
When Otto and I got married, he was a 36-year-old bachelor. He'd never been married, never lived with a woman. People would elbow me and cast meaningful glances in his direction while joking about how it would take me a while to "train him" (as if he were a puppy who would require frequent newspaper smacks on the nose to learn not to pee in the kitchen), and his friends would shake their heads sadly while telling him "Dude, life as you know it IS OVER." And I had been on my own with the kids for over four years; we had our habits---such as they were---and bringing Otto in was sure to make...
Recent events have turned me into a not altogether pleasant person. I am worried sick about Monkey; there is a story forthcoming about The House That Will Not Sell that sort of makes me want to punch myself in the face because, honestly, there should be a limit to the number of times a person can whine about such things, but mostly I want to punch my realtor in the face (hint: he is "just as frustrated" as I am about the current situation, he likes to assure me); work is a little stressful right now (ha! ha! just a little!); and next week I have to go have an MRI because I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH...
... have big plans but in the end are astonishingly lazy. (Wow, that really doesn't roll off the tongue quite the way the original does, huh?) The kids spent the weekend with their father, which meant that after Monkey's soccer game on Saturday they piled into a rental car and headed off to... well, I'm not sure where. Maybe they told me, but I was too busy waving and driving off with Otto yelling "FREE AT LAST! FREE AT LAST!" Okay, maybe it wasn't quite that bad. We set off on a rollicking adventure which would take us out to lunch and over to the local Goodwill. Because we are WILD. We...
The children seemed largely unbothered by Otto's absence this weekend, but they were on him the second he walked in the door, yesterday, to fill him in on everything he'd missed. There was soccer! And Sonic! And some things they'd watched on TV! And look at this thing I built! And how loose my tooth is! And we tried to go swimming but it was COLD! Monkey hung from Otto's middle while he chattered on, while Chickadee hung back, far too cool to climb on him, of course, but adding bits to the conversation with authority. Also, Otto brought home free baseball hats for everyone. And that's pretty...
This weekend---for the second time since our move---the kids went off with their dad and left Otto and me with a vast expanse (okay, a day and a half) of kid-free time. We of course got naked immediately, which was awkward because we were at Monkey's soccer game when the ex showed up. (Oh, I joke. We hardly ever get naked at soccer games. Besides, it was COLD here on Saturday! Chickadee and I were shivering and Otto was wearing jeans, and meanwhile the ex was slathering on sunscreen and complaining about how hot it was. That was when I realized that we have acclimated to the weather here. It...
