OMG! Ice! Ice from the sky!
There is snow on my deck.
There is ice on the driveway.
I ask you: Did I not leave New England so that I’d no longer have to deal with this nonsense? I think I did.
(What’s that, Otto? Oh, yes, honey. Of course. I left to be with YOU. That was my only concern. True love led me away, and nothing else mattered. You’re right, darling. Love you!)
Nevertheless, last night brought a Great Big Georgia Storm and they didn’t even have the decency to close school, today. But then the children bickered over breakfast and I realized that sure, sleeping in after checking the news would’ve been lovely, but sending them off so that I can work in peace is pretty darn nice, too. read more…
Bedtime — it’s where the magic happens
Every piece of family advice I’ve ever read (all two of them) suggests that bedtime is the right place to reconnect with your loved ones. Everyone’s a little sleepy and has maybe let their guard down, and no matter how the day went, this is your final note to be held onto until you can start all over again in the morning.
Lord knows I TRY to make bedtime harmonious around here, but often it’s late and the kids are screwing around and my patience is done and the whole thing is a hurried, cranky affair.
And don’t even get me started on my and Otto’s bedtime. I’m one of those people whose mind starts whirring a mile a minute as soon as I lie down to rest, so he’s asking how my day was or trying to get a little friendly and I’m all, “You know, I think I have a conference call next week with that person whose number I scribbled on a gum wrapper two months ago. Also, I think now would be an excellent time to freak out over the cost of the orthodontia we’ll be paying for in five years, don’t you?” read more…
Now let’s get back to me, please
Dudes. DUDES. Your affection for my dad warms the cockles of my shriveled, blackened heart. And I’m not the only one. Why, first Otto weighed in with boundless love:
Geez, your dad’s more popular than our wedding….
[Ed. note: Nope, the posts about our wedding still have more comments, but not by much!]
And then, of course, my father wasn’t kidding about sending the post out to everyone he knows. He emailed the link far and wide, which resulted in the entry being visited by people who normally never read me, like my brother. Who then suggested that what Dad really wants is a chicken, because they poop less.
Dad himself wanted to thank you all, too: read more…
Exposing him to his fans
Regular readers of this site have developed quite an affection for my father, who often leaves comments so funny that he totally upstages me. Even now, he’s still badgering me about that damn pony, and my suggestion that adding “clean up pony poop in the yard” to his to-do list would be less than thrilling will not dissuade him from the notion that HE DESERVES A PRIZE. And you know, he probably does.
So here we go, people. Today is your day to love on my dad. I’m going to tell you some important things about him, starting with the fact that today is his birthday.
(And no, I STILL haven’t bought him a pony, because I am a rotten, rotten daughter.) (However, I have it on good authority that having produced children is more or less a “get out of jail free” or—more accurately—“have your past sins forgiven by your longsuffering parents” card.) read more…
Clean-up at checkout 4, please
Today I took the children with me to Publix, which is really a story in and of itself, because I’d promised them something REALLY FUN that we ended up not being able to do for reasons out of my control [Dear Cool Activity Establishment, If your web site says “Drop-In Class” and that means it’s only for adults who’ve taken instruction before, rather than little kids who might want to try it out, you might want to PUT THAT ON THE WEB SITE rather than making me look like an ass. Just sayin’. Love, Mir], and apparently my idea of a consolation prize was to say “Well, we need orange juice, let’s just stop at the store on the way home.”
And this is why my children are in therapy.
NOT ONLY did I force them to the grocery store, I apparently took them to the ONLY Publix in the world without a water fountain, and of course I did so when Monkey had decided that the drought was affecting him personally. He was DYING. Of THE THIRST. read more…
In case you were wondering
It is possible to be a Stanford-educated professional-type adult, to spend half the morning pondering—once again—how it’s really time to figure out how to incorporate an exercise routine into your life, because you’re too sedentary, after all, plus those pesky ten pounds don’t seem to be losing themselves (go figure), and to simultaneously vow, as well, to start eating better, YOU REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME, because you’re getting older and it’s important, sheesh, woman, it’s time to make your health a priority…
… and to then look up a sinful chocolate cake recipe online because you’re joining friends for dinner and told them you’d make dessert and hey, everyone loves chocolate cake!
Me and my mini-me
It’s very interesting, spawning a tiny little clone of yourself. You’d THINK that doing so would render you uniquely able to meet your child’s every need, but you’d only think that IF YOU WERE ON CRACK. The reality, of course, that there is little in the universe more annoying that being confronted with a mirror of all your most annoying attributes, and if you knew how to deal with them, YOU WOULDN’T BE LIKE THAT.
And now you know how it is for me and Chickadee. On the bright side—funny! Oh my LORD, she is SO funny, and she keeps me laughing. On the not-so-bright side—doesn’t know when to stop! Just like me, sometimes she takes a joke too far, and it stops being funny, and she (I) doesn’t realize it’s time to LET IT GO. On the downright annoying side—mood swings! Dealing with her makes me want to give everyone who’s ever dealt with me on a daily basis a pony for putting up with me.
I think it’s safe to say that sometimes I do it exactly right with her, but a lot of the time I am just baffled. read more…
Call me Mrs. Otto. . . repeatedly
There have been a few times in the last six months or so when I’ve loaded up the washing machine with clothing and have later walked past the laundry area (it’s sort of a closet off of the kitchen) and stepped in some water.
This is bad, because I never wear shoes in the house and it makes my sock all soppy. Oh, I guess it’s also bad because it would appear that the washing machine has a leak. EXCEPT! Except it doesn’t always do it. And it’s never a HUGE amount of water. Just every now and then—just often enough to drive a sane person crazy, what with the wondering if THIS TIME, IS IT REALLY BROKEN? or will it stop again?—there is some water.
Me, despite being incredibly cautious in nearly all ways, I am relatively unbothered by this phenomenon because it happens so rarely. Most of the time, the washer works and doesn’t leak. How serious could it be? Whatever. Otto, however, is not so lucky. read more…
We now return to our regular bitching
How can you top bringing the Mythbusters home? Why, with a fruitless day of searching for a simple item, of course!
Once upon a time, I had vision insurance. Vision Service Plan, or VSP for short. VSP and I were good friends. Oh, hell… VSP and I may have been more than friends. We snuggled on the couch and I whispered sweet nothings into his ear when he caused my glasses to cost me just $20 or so out of pocket. Oh, VSP! How I miss you!
Needless to say, I no longer have VSP. Haven’t for years, in fact. But thanks to the magic of having a second income in the house, now, I went for new glasses in December for the first time in years. It was very exciting! Because I’d forgotten what it’s like to be able to see! read more…
One last present: Confirmed!
So yesterday I told you all about the last round of presents with the kids—the rest of their Christmas presents, and Monkey’s birthday presents, which should be enough presentage (totally a word) to hold us for many months. That, combined with having the kids back home again, should’ve rendered Saturday the perfect day.
But none of that was what I was REALLY looking forward to. No. I mean, it was good to finally have the kids home, and all, but the part I was excited about was not that first night home and the cake and the presents.
Sunday morning we had pancakes. No, that’s not the exciting part. Pancakes is normally a Saturday morning thing, but had to make up for missing it for a few weeks, you know. So yesterday we were rebels and had a big pancake breakfast.
I have to back up for a minute. read more…