Lush on the town
We try very hard to do a few special things with each kid when we have just one of them, so last night we took Monkey out for dinner to his favorite restaurant. What he likes best about it is that the nachos are not so much tortilla chips covered in cheese as they are a plate of cheese with a tortilla garnish.
What Otto and I like best about it is that the margaritas are very cheap. So.
Somehow we got sucked into one of those circuitous conversations where Literal Boy’s brain has a small short-circuit; I had said something about pants that accentuated my hips (no, I don’t know why were taking about this), and Monkey said he wasn’t sure what accentuated meant, so Otto—ever the teacher—asked him what word he could find in “accentuate,” so Monkey thought about it and proudly exclaimed “ACCENT!”
“That’s right,” said Otto. “So from that, can you figure it out?” read more…
Operator! Gimme a nickel!
I appreciate all of the commiseration on yesterday’s post. Misery truly does love company, and slogging through the tween/teen trenches is made a bit easier by knowing that many of you are dealing with similar issues. (Though I must say that my dad’s comment on my behavior at that age was a nice touch. Ahem.)
Thusly bolstered, I was ready to get back to Doing For Her Highness; specifically, I was ready to play another round of Medical Telephone on her behalf.
When we last left off in the rash saga, the New Specialist was leaning heavily towards a nickel allergy, even though Chickadee has already tested negative. New Specialist insisted we could order a nickel test kit for at-home use, for only $15, and we would soon have our answer. “Just put the patch on her and wait three days and tell us what happens!” She even gave us the phone number and item number of said kit. That sounded odd to me, but whatever. We told her we’d order the kit. read more…
Love languages, somewhat lost in translation
I meant to do another (final) installment of Otto Week, over the weekend, but I turned out to be too busy with my favorite boy-type people to get around to it. See, on Saturday Monkey came back, and on Sunday, Otto returned. Of course, Chickadee left on Saturday, so I still don’t have the entire family here, but that’s okay for right now.
Digression, except not really, because this is probably going to be kind of long: Are all 12-year-old girls sociopaths, or just mine? I’m asking for real. Because she’s positively charming and I cannot get enough of her and everything is super awesome right up until her head starts spinning around. So we had this really fun week right up until the couple of days before she left, whereupon she promptly morphed into Princess Gimme of Ungratefulville (population: JUST ONE, BITCHES), and I began counting down the minutes until her departure.
And the last time I wrote about this (though I can’t find it now, because I am lazy) I got a few SUPER HELPFUL comments about how my daughter only behaves disrespectfully because I let her, so needless to say, as I am still lacking in both powers of omnipotence and telekinesis, I guess I’m still “allowing” said poor behavior and should be mocked accordingly. Ahem. read more…
Don’t. Stop. No, really, don’t stop!
Pardon the brief interruption. We now return you to our regularly-scheduled Otto Week.
Sometimes I wonder if I do poke at Otto just a little too much. I mean, I love him to pieces, and I’m pretty sure he knows that, but I’m also just kind of a jerk, sometimes. And that’s aside from the fact that I suspect it’s hard to be married to someone who regularly tells the Internet “Hey, this totally embarrassing thing happened! Let me describe it to you in EXCRUCIATING DETAIL!”
Other times, I figure it’s just part of that whole we-are-totally-meant-to-be-together thing that he puts up with and maybe even enjoys the abuse. (Uh, not like that. Sheesh.)
Every now and then—like this morning—I get confirmation that this is so. read more…
Love isn’t always what you pictured
You may have noticed a lack of Monkey stories this week. That’s because he’s away with his dad, and we are trying to muddle along in the space he leaves behind when he’s gone. Specifically, that space denotes a marked lack of: dimples, jokes that make no sense whatsoever, and hugs that squish the air right out of me. (I miss two out of three of those things a LOT.)
While my kids are always on my mind, here or not, Monkey’s been on my mind even moreso than usual. I share bits and piece of the immediate, here, but thanks to the kindness and encouragement of fellow mom-in-the-spectrum-trenches Shannon Des Roches Rosa, I finally sat down and wrote about our diagnosis journey, the way that only hindsight can tie it together. I struggled with it; sometimes I don’t know if I can explain how “wishing it was different” and “loving him exactly how he is” can intertwine and coexist, even as they seem to contradict one another. They don’t.
This Love Thursday, I tip my metaphorical cap twice: first, to those insightful rockers who noted that you can’t always get what you want, but sometimes you get what you need; and second, to the beautiful and perfect young man who has taught me more about grace in the last ten years than I’d learned in the previous nearly-30 years.
Revenge?
At last check, Otto was still carrying only about 17% of the vote in his favor on the cookies-and-milk issue. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s that high. And as I emailed several folks as your thoughtful and gag-laden comments rolled in, I think a part of my objection on this issue is the delivery method. It’s the DRINKING of the cookie sludge that offends me. Were he to eat it with a spoon, I would be less bothered. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps because then you’re acknowledging that it’s not a liquid. Drinking chunky things is just nasty.
ANYWAY. Otto is bearing up under the strain of being COMPLETELY SMACKED DOWN pretty well, and he is not a man given to grudges, but I strongly suspect he accidentally-on-purpose planned out what happened this morning.
For one thing, we’re unlikely to have an entire Otto Week, as previously suggested, because he’s just left town for the rest of the week. The jerk. read more…
The way the cookie crumbles
“Must you MOCK ME so?” asked Otto, in response to yesterday’s entry.
I considered his question for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I must. Thank you for asking.”
[Do you ever wonder what keeps him here? I wonder, quite often. I mean, Otto is smart, funny, charming, capable, and totally hot. All I bring to this relationship is a couple of high-maintenance children, copious amounts of mockery, repeated requests for popcorn, and a dog with periodic digestive issues. I can only conclude that I must be positively mind-blowing in bed.]
Otto rolled his eyes. Naturally, I took that as a challenge.
“I think maybe we’re going to have Otto Week on the blog, in fact,” I continued. “All Otto, All The Time. This is going to be FUN.” read more…
Not a firecracker
Well, yesterday was kind of a bust. We had plans to go out to the fireworks last night, of course, but then Chickadee got one of those random fevers, the kind where I notice she’s sort of red-cheeked and glassy-eyed, and when I asked if she was feeling okay she said, “Well, my head kind of hurts,” and then I felt her head and took her temperature while she was very limp and tragic. Once I declared we’d have to skip the fireworks, though, she had a MIRACULOUS RECOVERY, replete with MUCH WHINING about how it wasn’t fair and she wanted to go and she was PERFECTLY FINE. You know, except for the whole fever thing. So.
She demonstrated her wellness by (shortly thereafter) pitching one of her signature fits over something inconsequential, leading one of us to comment that “Emo Girl is all Emo!” which of course led to even greater dramatics, which then led to her being grounded. And the only thing worse than being sick is being sick AND grounded. On the 4th of July. It was kind of sad, really. read more…
We’re gonna have a party, yeah
I took Chickadee grocery shopping yesterday, and she begged—begged!—for a watermelon. I enjoy watching her beg; I didn’t tell her I’d been planning to buy one, anyway.
We came home and unloaded everything, and the next time I walked into the kitchen, I saw this:
Apparently Mr. Watermelon Head is ready to give his life in pursuit of liberty and the American Way. Or so I’m told.
Have a safe and happy 4th of July, everyone!
Two cool things
Today I have almost nothing for you; I am busy continuing Operation Kill Fleas Immediately If Not Sooner, and that involves a lot of vacuuming and laundry and also bathing a dog who is really not all that jazzed about finding herself in the sink. AGAIN.
Also I am trying to spend some quality time with my children, which would be a lot easier if they would stop doing things like shoving garbage in their closets and then swearing that they’d cleaned their rooms (and then getting all offended when their jerkery is discovered). AHEM. (Jerkery is SO a word, by the way.) Anyway.
Two very cool things happened to me lately, though: read more…