It's been a long time since I could say this, but: It's been a pretty good year. I would like to lose 10 (20) pounds and I would like Duncan to stop getting ear infections and Licorice's breath to smell less like she just ate a bunch of cat poop (yep, the feral cats in our neighborhood are still around...) and for Otto to have a little less stress in his life and for my kids to start understanding how amazing they really are and also maybe for them to strike the phrase "in a minute" from their vocabularies... but... things are good. These are minor quibbles. To celebrate, I made a million...
In an interesting the-universe-has-a-weird-sense-of-humor turn of events, I received a fairly heartbreaking question for my Alpha Mom column on the same day that Chickadee received her first college acceptance. (This is the school she'll attend, but not her only application, so I say "first," but really, it should be "one and only that matters so far as she's concerned.") It was right around this time, about four years ago, that we started a long, slow slide into the darkness 'round here. Every time I thought it couldn't get worse, it did, and usually exponentially so. There were a lot of...
There were a few things different, this year, as we tried to corral the kids for pictures and they rolled their eyes and bickered and insisted they were just plain over it. For one thing, even in wedges, and even on her tiptoes, Chickadee can no longer even pretend to be taller than Monkey. For another, I sent one of the pictures to Kira and she immediately sent back, "I don't mean to alarm you, but someone has swiped your baby boy and replaced him with an enormous man." (This is true. Also: Terrifying.) We were having fun. Then Otto mentioned that this would be our last photo of two sets of...
Some people love the Christmas season, others twirl around with glee in the early spring when the flowers begin to bloom. Me, I think mid-summer is the most wonderful time of the year. Everyone else is all "It's so hot! It's so rainy! I can't believe school's starting soon!" And then I'm over here on cloud nine, all, "IT'S BAND CAMP SEASON, BITCHES!" Band camp is a miracle, wrapped in jubilation, taking the covert form of teenagers who are happy and too tired to be difficult. Sure, getting up early and packing lunches again isn't really something any of us missed, but it's worth it....
You may have felt like I've kind of been half-assing it 'round here the last few weeks. (Alternatively, you may find it hilarious that I think you care that much. If you fall into this latter category, just skip ahead to the next paragraph.) Confession: I've been half-assing it here for the last few weeks. My heart and mind has been elsewhere, and some of the distraction has been emotional, but a lot of it has been logistical. There was just a lot to be done in a fairly short period of time, and I put my head down and tried to power through it, even while fighting back the fears that it...
She's home! SHE'S HOME! I shall love her and hug her and squeeze her and call her George Chickadee. Oh, wait. I already did that. And then, she wrote you this post. MAH BAYBEE, growing up and stuff. Enjoy! ---M What have I missed most about being home? Is it the home cooked meals, or the dog licking my tonsils every time I open my mouth to talk? Or maybe it’s the higher-than-30-degrees weather? No. No, it would definitely have to be my brother waking me up in the morning by repeatedly hitting me in the face with my own dirty sock. Ah, home sweet (er, smelly) home. After that lovely...
Otto's car isn't salvageable, unless you count "costing as much money to fix it as the car is worth" as salvageable, which I do not. Monkey is on day two of a Mysterious Fever, which today came with a bonus Mysterious Rash. And yet... my folks have arrived, and my office currently houses Wave Two of the great tampon lemonade project, ready for delivery tomorrow. Twenty-four more boxes of goodies for the girls. Know what? It's better than a working car. [Bonus: My dad turned to Monkey this morning and said, "What do you think of all these donations, Monkey?" and even though he was laying on...
Actually, I do know where to start. With this: THANK YOU. Thank you for reading, thank you for caring, thank you for being generous beyond measure. You don't need to care about my kid, or about a bunch of other kids you've never met, but you do, and you are AWESOME and PRETTY and I am inspired by you. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go read about my possibly ill-named post on making tampon lemonade. In the face of learning that Chickadee's hygiene items were constantly being stolen by other girls in the hospital, I'm not going to lie: I got angry. Anger is easy. So that happened...
It seems like I should have more to say about the end of middle school, but I've been a little too verklempt to manage it. [Talk amongst yourselves! Here, I'll give you a topic: Attendance awards; universally annoying or only to bitter parents of chronically ill children who feel like other kids getting medals and certificates for having good immune systems is bullshit? Discuss.] In the end, it was sort of anti-climactic. Chickadee hasn't been feeling great, and in the post-moving-on-no-we-are-most-certainly-not-calling-it-a-graduation-ceremony hubbub as I tried to corral her and some...
