Panic attack on a light, crispy crust
This morning BOTH of my children awoke healthy—if not entirely cheerful—and I sang “You are going to school to-day! You are going to school to-day!” until they both glared at me and plotted their revenge together at the breakfast table. I should probably be worried, but it’s hard to take the revenge plans of people chewing animal-shaped vitamins seriously.
We shuffled through the crisp air to the bus stop, amused ourselves by chiding each other for “smoking” and trying to make interesting shapes with the misty breath coming from our mouths, and then waved goodbye as the bus pulled away.
Thus began my first day this week sans children. I just knew it was going to be a great day! read more…
Love slays me, regularly
Chickadee: My name is Kooky.
Me: Hello, Kooky.
Chickadee: No, wait. My name is— actually, I quite enjoy my real name.
Me: That’s wonderful… I enjoy your real name, too. And when I was a kid I hated my name, so I’m especially glad that you like yours.
Chickadee: Well your name sounds much better for someone old like you, not a kid—
Me: *jaw drops, stricken look*
Chickadee: I mean, not that you’re old.
Me: Stop talking now.
Chickadee: You’re laughing.
Me: No I’m not.
Chickadee: Yes you are.
Me: You called me old.
Chickadee: I didn’t call you an old lady.
Me: Stop. Talking.
God, I love that kid.
Happy Love Thursday. May you know the joy of indignation that can’t help giggling.
Try the dip, and I may have inhaled
Would you like to come to my cocktail party? It is only virtual, which is why you should totally come. An ACTUAL party at my actual HOUSE would involve me being so stressed out that I would need to be serving ativan canapes in order to enjoy myself at all, and I hear that drugging yourself discreetly is okay but that drugging your guests is somewhat uncouth. So.
See, Liz tagged me for this party meme thing, and I’ve been cooped up all day with TWO sick children (now with twice the mind-numbing boredom!), so it seemed like a good time to acquiesce. The alternative is an entire entry along the lines of “Monkey had nothing but two ounces of juice all day long so I should probably be worried, but mostly I want to pluck out his liver and eat it, do you think that makes me a bad mother?” read more…
Maybe I should’ve taken a nap
Given that I had Chickadee home from school today (Day Three of Mystery Fever: Just like the other two days!), it was actually pretty productive around here. Work was completed. Dishes were washed. Exercise was… exercised.
Yes. I exercised. Day One of the New Regime.
The New Regime is brought to you by the letter S (for sloth) and the number 5 (how many pounds I gained over the holidays) and also the last few times I was sick and how a nagging little voice in the back of my mind may have suggested that I wouldn’t get sick so often if I was in better overall health. read more…
I’ll blame this post later
Hello! How was your weekend? Mine was just splendid. It’s not like I wanted to go OUTSIDE or DO ANYTHING this weekend, so it was dandy just the way it was. I truly ENJOYED being trapped inside on the one freakishly warm weekend of the season. With no chocolate. Or alcohol.
(Hold me.)
Given that my weekend ended up being completely unremarkable due to house arrest, I have nothing at all to talk about except that 1) you people have some very strong opinions about pants or 2) something unexpected and really good may or may not happen soon.
I am tired of discussing my ass so I figure, what the hell. Let’s go straight for number 2 and jinx this thing right. read more…
The agony of (pants) defeat
Anyone who’s known me for any length of time knows that I like to shop. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that I love the shopping in a way that sometimes causes folks to back away from me slowly. I love the thrill of the bargain. I love the chase.
Despite this love affair, I would usually rather set my own hair on fire than go shopping for pants. I was sure I’d written about this before, and it turns out that indeed I did—nearly 2 years ago. Which would be the last time I went looking for pants to cover my (apparently freakish) behind. When I wrote that post, I was spending 99% of my time rotating through 3 identical pairs of jeans which were already getting old. Guess what I’m still wearing? read more…
Remains of the day
(Not to be confused, of course, with the remains of the cake.)
Monkey’s 7th birthday has come and gone, and I haven’t cried (much) and Chickadee wasn’t jealous (much) and all went well except for the part where in order to buy enough stuff to be able to use my credit card, when I was picking up party plates and napkins I bought a big bag of Flipz and now I can’t stop eating them. And given the spectrum of possible birthday calamities, that seems pretty manageable. read more…
My nose is dripping on the keyboard
You’re welcome.
On the heels of the cold-turned-sinus-infection—right after I finished my antibiotics, actually—I caught ANOTHER COLD. Because I apparently have no immune system to speak of, at all. Today was one of those days where I had to stop and wipe or blow my nose roughly every 3.7 seconds, so as I’m sure you might imagine, it was a really productive day.
(Please kill me now.)
The best was trying to frost and decorate Monkey’s birthday cake, tonight. Two seconds of spreading frosting at a time between nose-wiping and hand-washing means you can easily finish a 9″ x 12″ sheet cake in about three hours!
(I was serious. Kill me.) read more…
It was a bus, not amphibians
I have things to tell you about, but somehow our crash-landing back into the land of Routine has been sufficiently difficult that I must go to bed right now if I am to have any hope of being coherent in the morning. Hold that thought, whatever it was.
Tonight I can only offer this lovely acrostic I almost missed in my daughter’s backpack. Her stint as Rosa Parks at school went off without a hitch, and whether it was an assignment or just pure adoration for the woman that moved her to create the following, I’m unsure. Regardless, this is one piece that goes straight into the box of papers to keep. read more…
It’s the end of the caulk as I know it
The nice thing about having earnest, Christian contractors come do work for you the week before Christmas is that they will cut you an unbelievable deal on the work, saving you many many dollars. The sucky thing about having earnest, Christian contractors come do work for you the week before Christmas is that they will behold your strong, capable fiancé doing other home repairs and immediately assume that if they fall behind schedule, NO PROBLEM, because surely your Godly Nearly-Spouse Man will take care of any finish work they neglect to do.
I could tell you how many tubes of caulking we’ve gone through in the last two weeks, but then I’d have to kill you. Assuming, of course, that I could extract myself from the weeping fetal position I’m currently holding in order to get close enough to hurt you. The odds are in your favor. read more…