Traditionally the weekend is a time to relax and unwind, to sleep in and do Super Fun Things. I mean... I assume that's a tradition for some people? We're terrible at that in general, though I do hold the whole "sleep in" part pretty sacred. (As I said to Otto just last night, it's not so much that I view getting up early and packing lunches all school year long as a burden, it's just that by May I am completely OVER it.) Anyway, sometimes we aren't so great with the whole "Super Fun Things" notion, what with the kids' various activities and need to be with people other than us, GOD, MOM,...
Otto picked up a handful of lottery tickets last week. The Powerball or whatever it's called was up to... I don't even know what. 250 frajillion? It was a lot of money. And while I firmly believe lottery tickets to be a tax on people who are bad at math, we could spare a few bucks for the fun of what-if-ing for a few days. Spoiler: We didn't win. My dreams of lounging on a divan all day---eating bon bons and directing underlings to peel grapes for me---have been dashed. (Related: We don't own a divan.) Lately it feels like Otto and I talk about money a LOT. Part of this is the looming...
Monkey is not recovering as quickly as I'd hoped, plus he doesn't really like to be coddled when sick. Well, he likes me to fetch him things, sometimes, but for the most part he just wants to lie down in a dark room and cough in a way that makes me wonder if maybe he has tuberculosis rather than the flu. My constant, "Honey, do you need anything?" prodding is both annoying to him and doesn't fulfill my need to MAKE IT BETTER, so I have to content myself with making toast, mostly. In case you were wondering, yes, I DO spread the butter all the way to the edges. Because LOVE. I did manage to...
I think I promised you some super-exciting content about our last visit to Costco. (I tell you what, this blog is worth EXACTLY what you're paying for it. Such value!) Before that, though, apparently I am falling down on my chronicling duties by not verifying that 1) my children went back to school and 2) they were wearing shoes when they did it. Here you go: [Obvious from the picture: My darling vegetarian has thus far refused to let me buy her leather boots, which means she wears these crappy ones that fall apart and make her look homeless. I'm not saying she doesn't rock that particular...
I actually had this whole funny little post planned about The Day Of The Mystery Puddle---it appeared in the middle of the kitchen and we started playing Dog, Garbage Bag Leak, or Oblivious Child Spill---but before I had a chance to write it, Duncan commenced peeing all over the place and generally behaving unwell. At that point the puddle seemed less amusing and more like something I should've been more alarmed by in the first place, y'know? Anyway. Duncan is also kind of lumpy and bumpy ("Age!" said the vet, the first time I pointed it out. "Or maybe something else! Who knows!") and...
Or, Things I did wrong recently. Or, Life is hard because I am dumb. Or, Allow me to make you feel better about your life choices. I keep telling myself that I should just come over here and post some dog pictures and call it a day---after all, who needs content when you have furballs, right?---but it hasn't happened and now all of that procrastination has paid off, because it turns out that while no one day has been blog-worthy, lately, taken in sum total I have a veritable epic of life-and-how-to-do-it-wrong to share. Every day is a new opportunity to do something else stupid, as I always...
Sometimes people ask me about the secret to success when it comes to a blended family, and usually I laugh and laugh and then ask them what they mean by "success," and also, have they actually MET my family...? But I think I've figured it out. The key is to make All Things Family mimic the child's natural propensity for mood shifts. Even-tempered kid? Keep things on a nice, regular keel. Not-so-even-tempered kid? Hit the outlet mall. Where else can you go where---when your mother inquires about where to find that shirt in the window, and when the sales associate informs her that that's the...
I post a lot of Amazon grocery deals over at Want Not, largely because we have never belonged to a warehouse club and this has always been the cheapest way for me to, say, buy enough Cheez-Its to last my children more than a week without having to take out a home equity loan. Nearly every time I post something I think is a super great deal, though, someone invariably comments, "Oh, it's less than that at Costco." And then I make a voodoo doll out of that commenter. Kidding! (How could I possibly make a voodoo doll without a piece of their hair?) I respond patiently, as I always do, that some...
This week over at Alpha Mom, I've written about the best way to go thrifting with your teen. It does not include any information about my daughter's penchant for going straight for the neon-green hooker heels and dancing around in them declaring, "I'M A PRETTY LAYDEEEEEEEE!" (which, now that I think of it, seems like a glaring omission). I did, however, manage to piss off a commenter pretty much immediately, because when I say "this is the rule in our family," OBVIOUSLY what I am saying is "I am judging you for doing anything differently and you should get really mad and leave me an angry...
