Also note that
At 7:30 this morning I was down in my basement with a push broom, removing the last detritus from last year’s Basementgate. Sure, it’s been clean down there for ages, but I never swept out all the corners. Now I have.
This afternoon I steadily filled my brain with information until I had to go curl up on the couch with the remote and a bag of chips to recover. I’m not quite done recovering, honestly. read more…
Lesser of two crazy-making activities
I can’t decide:
1) Deciding to paint just that one piece of dinged trim before showing the house tomorrow and finding myself painting trim, doors, the entire staircase, and huh, whaddaya know, I’ve been painting for SIX HOURS.
or
2) Having a prolonged discussion about school districts, looking up statistics online, realizing I have lived a life of white privilege and that while I certainly COULD provide that for my kids in the south, it would be twenty different kinds of wrong to do so; and realize further that I am not just moving to another state, but possibly a different universe.
I was leaning towards the former being the lesser, but I dunno, I seem to have an unusually long staircase….
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…