Live Free or Die! And haul your own garbage, sissy. Truly, I live in the land of promise. And gun racks. But that is a different story. Long ago and far away, when I was a young girl, I dreamed of my life when I was all grown up. My dreams were very detailed. Oddly enough, although I often dreamt that I would have two children--one boy and one girl--I never once thought that those children would, in fact, cry if one of them found out they'd missed (or was going to miss) a trip to the dump. Yep, going to the dump is cause for major celebration. The dump is a happening spot. Many locals travel...
Things I learned today that are going to make my head explode: 1) Getting Chickadee up for school is going to be impossible. We had to get out the door early this morning to get her to therapy before camp, and she was very nearly strangled in the process. Shouting, "If you are still in that bed when I come back I am going to remove you by your hair" may not have been my finest hour as a parent. 2) The same HMO that doesn't bat an eyelash over paying for my daughter's mood stabilizers is trying to tell us we've used up our allowance of therapy appointments. Ummmm... she's diagnosed with a...
I swear it was not intentional that I ended up doing two rather heavy posts in a row and then dropped off the planet. It just kind of happened that way. My weekend was not spent in deep contemplation of my marital status; honest! Yesterday I made a trek to Logan Airport with friends. As I told another friend, before we departed, I would rather pluck out and digest my own eyeballs than voluntarily drive into Boston to the airport. I never fly from there. Because getting there is enough to make you want to get out of your car while you're sitting in bumper-to-bumper standstill traffic on the...
At last check, I had 50 58 comments on the "bloggerhood" post, many from folks I never would've "met" otherwise. Thank you again for coming in, hanging out, and being willing to share yourself with me! *** Chickadee asked me this morning, "Is my sandal supposed to do this?" This was the sole opening up from toe to mid-arch like an old leather taco. Um, not so much, hon. I was thinking of trying to glue it, but then I noticed her toes hanging off the edge, too. That kid just keeps growing. Ran out this afternoon to the same store where I'd gotten my strappy heels and found her the last pair...
This morning I was scheduled for replacement delivery of my new television. I received my automated call yesterday, informing me that delivery would occur between 8:30 and 10:30. So I was laying in bed this morning at around 8:15, willing myself to get my lazy butt up, but reasoning that I had another 14 minutes before I absolutely had to be up. And then the doorbell rang. Ooooops. It was, of course, my friends The Nice Delivery Guys, who were either unsurprised to find me in my pajamas and a 15-year-old college sweatshirt or prudently pretending oblivion in the hopes that I would tip them...
Our house is infected, so I'm afraid you can't come over today. It wouldn't be safe. You don't want to catch it, do you?? And here I sit in the middle of it, guilty. I've infected my children. I thought I was taking all the proper precautions, but as we are prone to puppy-piling and sticky kisses, I guess I should've known this would happen. Plus it's been overcast for several days... that couldn't have helped, you know. All three of us have a severe case of Slugbutt. It started with me, of course. The kids were perfectly fine, and I spent a lot of time on the couch trying to keep up a brave...
Happiness is:snuggling with both (happy) children in bed this morning before getting up a trip to Target finding really nice "not recognized by system" sheets that should've been salvaged and getting them for $7.49 getting some fresh air having the energetic, limber, 14-year-old sitter come by to run the childred ragged while I take a nap someone from church calling to say they have some meals to drop off for me and the kids. Happiness is not:nerves deciding to start regenerating in places that still hurt pushing two kids in a grocery cart, even if only for 20 minutes having a small boy...
I used to go to the dentist every six months like clockwork. I was never afraid of going; I enjoyed the feeling of squeaky-clean teeth and never had a cavity and found the whole process rather soothing. (I had years of orthodonture, you know. You never escape one of those visits without something being twisted, tightened, or otherwise painful. Bi-yearly cleanings are a cakewalk.) Then in grad school I started falling off the dental hygiene bandwagon... no time, no money, my teeth look fine, I brush twice a day.... Then at some point the ex more or less got up one morning declaring that we...
Hear that? Neither do I. I'm alone, for the next 24 hours or so. Ordinarily a busy mom lucky enough to have a day of silence will barely be able to contain her glee, and I am usually no exception. Today, however, marked the end of a week of having my father and stepmother and kids all here together. Prior to that, I hadn't seen the kids for over a week, and hadn't seen my folks for several months. And now it's Sunday night; my least favorite day ever of the week. Grandma and Grandpa hit the road 'round lunchtime to a high-pitched chorus of "byebyeweloveyou!"s at the door. The kids headed off...
