Perhaps you recall that wayyyy back in August, I spent a significant amount of time digging out our master bedroom so that my husband wouldn't divorce me because it had become quite cluttered. This, naturally, led to multiple discussions about What We Should Do In Here, with Otto never even once agreeing with me that "set fire to everything and walk away" was a good option. (Hmph.) We agreed that Real Furniture---not the "half of my bedroom set from my first marriage plus random other pieces" assortment we currently have---would be great, and we even agree on what sort of furniture we would...
I cannot remember the last time Duncan bit someone. Rather: I couldn't remember, BEFORE THIS WEEKEND. He's so sweet! So calm! That whole "biting people" thing is but a distant memory... ... which came back again while we were watching football this weekend. Otto and I cheered over a play while Duncan snoozed between us on the couch; Duncan leapt awake from the commotion and began barking; I tried to rub his head to calm him down, and he was... uhhh... not calm, it turns out, because I put my hand on him and he promptly snarled and CHOMPed down on my fingers. So. Had to set the "XX DAYS SINCE...
Chickadee leaves for college in two weeks, in case you're counting. I was counting, for quite a while there---I was counting down until a wonderful, mythical day when ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER as we worked through that less-than-halcyon time when your college-bound teenager suddenly morphs into a prickly, cranky, spoiled brat. I hear this is perfectly normal, and that my reaction of wanting to strangle her with my bare hands was also normal. That time came, and went, and now we are just finishing getting her ready and enjoying each others' company. And realizing we are going to...
This morning I removed the season's first rodent from the pool. It was just as much fun as you might imagine! And that's how I know that summer has well and truly arrived. It's not summer until something drowns. Also, my garden is giving me fits. APPARENTLY I planted a bunch of bum seeds for my beans and cucumbers, and because I am a very slow learner---and also because we have squirrels and feral cats roaming around and sometimes digging in my beds---I replanted with those same seeds several times before admitting that they simply weren't going to grow. Finally I admitted defeat and bought...
I have decided that time is a terribly confusing construct. There were years when it seemed to drag on and on and on and I was sure that my children would never grow up and we would be frozen in time, forever. Then I bought a new car and went to write about it and thought to myself, "Surely I have only owned the previous car for a few years, right?" So I went and looked it up and no, actually we bought my previous car almost six years ago. How is that even possible?? Also, how is it possible that we bought that car knowing it would someday go to Chickadee (and laughed about, at that time)...
I often refer to our housekeeping style as "tidy with hidden pockets of disaster." We spend most of our family time in the kitchen and family room; those rooms are clean and orderly, for the most part. My office desk tends to suffer from pile-itis, but I'm working on that. I exhort the children to keep their spaces free of clutter, or at least not covered in dirty laundry, which in teenage parlance is the same thing. But I must confess that somewhere along the way, part of how we kept the main areas of the house looking reasonable was to dump anything "to be dealt with later" into our master...
I spent last week in a grudging state of malingering. Malingerment? Whatever. I was not SICK sick, you understand. I was not so ill that I could take to my bed without guilt, but I had a cold (THANKS, KIDS!) and just didn't feel 100%. I got up in the morning and packed lunches and did the other morning routine things, then tried to work for a while and often ended up taking a nap at some point and trying to work some more and then making dinner. And I felt really stupid about it all, because: not sick. Not really. Just a little puny, that's all. [Aside: Now that I am officially Working Less...
I don't know if you know this, but APPARENTLY simply refusing to think about the realities of having a child applying to college/graduating/getting out of Dodge doesn't stop it from happening. We are gearing up to start Chickadee's senior year and I have many, many feels. SO MANY FEELS. But I have to pretend I don't, because, GOD, MOM, STOP. So it'll just be our little secret, Internet. I know you won't tell anyone. We went through the Cabinet Of School Supplies last week and determined that we still had plenty of pencils left over from the last time we bought a gazillion-pack, but we needed...
First: THANK YOU to everyone who responded to yesterday's post. I found it very helpful, and the girlchild read all your responses as well. I love having a collective brain-trust to draw on so that it's not always just WELL MOM THAT WAS JUST YOU. Turns out that nearly every female I know has a story of Mean Girls Back In The Day, which is sad, but also somewhat validating. So thank you for sharing your stories. Second: How many posts can I write about shopping at thrift stores? A bunch, it turns out. Especially when I've just scored huge at a ridiculous sale. You can check out my latest at...
