Because we were out of milk
I don’t take the kids to the grocery store with me all the time; in fact, most of the time I’m organized enough to go without them, because it’s vastly preferable. When I go alone it’s much quicker and there’s less whining.
But this week I am completely off my game and swamped, to boot, and so I looked up from my work about ten minutes before the kids got home and realized that I would have to take them with me and go get some food.
[Aside: Joshilyn was describing something unpleasant to me on the phone today and said that she’d “rather eat a bug.” There was a pause as we considered the gravity of this statement. Then we moved on to mitigating factors: Is the bug alive or dead? Well, I’d still rather eat the bug. Is it crunchy? Let me think about it… yep, I’ll take the bug. Etc. I think this is a pithy way to sum up feelings of aversion and I plan to use it as much as possible. When I looked at the clock and realized I’d run out of time to grocery shop without the children, I immediately fell to considering whether this was better or worse than eating a bug.] read more…
I always wanted tile in there
It seems wrong, somehow, to follow up the “I cannot take it anymore and I must vent or kill someone and venting seems less problematic” post with a story about my bathroom. But it’s all I’ve got.
[Except this: Thank you. Not even so much for the comments—though some of those were incredibly kind and I do appreciate all of you pretty people—but for just reading. I had no idea until I wrote about it just how badly I needed a bit of primal scream therapy or its blog equivalent.]
And now let us turn to even more important matters, like why I am afraid of wallpaper. read more…
Fighting the undercurrent
I wasn’t going to talk about it, because I don’t want to talk about it. I want to take the high road. I want to believe things will work out quickly.
Here on the high road, I am having migraines every couple of days. I have some good meds for the migraines, stuff that’s so expensive that my insurance will only let me have six pills each month, which I think is pretty ridiculous for non-narcotic medicine that doesn’t even do me the courtesy of making me high. Hmph.
And I’m working, and taking care of the kids, and doing the things I need to do. And I’m happy, most of the time. But my head feels like it’s going to explode. read more…
Vconfusion
Continuing in the fine tradition of tackling only the life issues which require very little thought and probably don’t need to be addressed right now, today I turned to my favorite activity to undertake every 730 days: Picking a new cell phone.
Today was even more fun, because Otto and I had such good luck coming to agreement on wedding ring selection, we decided to figure out our phones together. Thankfully there is no societal edict that our phones coordinate, so it was a slightly lower-pressure situation, at least. Also, if our new phones suck? We can get new ones in another two years without being worried about hurting anyone’s feelings. Much better. read more…
Mother-daughter teaching moment
I used to think there ought to be a law that when you’re selling a coordinating set of something—say, matching brother/sister Christmas sweaters—you have to list them together on eBay rather than as separate auctions. Because there is nothing more annoying in this world than agonizing over how high you bid to try to secure BOTH items, as having one but not the other is useless if what you really want is the set.
But after explaining auctioning and bidding to my daughter, and winning the first sweater (much to her delight), I sat here refreshing the page on the second sweater. We watched as someone swooped in and upped the bid with 3 minutes to go. I prepared to enter my bid and she piped up, “Mom. Better wait til there’s only about thirty seconds left so you don’t get sniped back.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever been prouder.
(Yes, we won the second sweater, too. I believe this was due to our combined, overwhelming shopping savvy.)
Bump
Because I married for the first time when I was a toddler, I don’t much remember how it all went down. Sure, that’s the result of a combination of things, really—the fact that it was a rilly rilly rilly long time ago, the fact that I was so young that my brain wasn’t yet fully formed and therefore perhaps didn’t store all of the relevant information, and (my favorite) good ol’ repression.
Regardless, there are a few things I know for sure. Last time around, here are some things which I/we did not need to consider in our immediate planning: Existing children, selling houses, buying a house, pissed off exes, moving over a thousand miles, and how to coordinate all of the preceding without having a nervous breakdown.
I have been trying to wrap my head around this particular obstacle path for about a month, with no success. Naturally, I turned to the one thing that DID make sense to me and which I feel I’m capable of handling. read more…
Love is progress
“Mama, do you think I had a good day today?”
“I dunno, Buddy, did you?”
“What do you think?”
“Well, I sure hope you did. I think you probably did. Should we look?”
“Yes. You should look.”
“Okay, go grab your book for me.”
Deep thoughts from an overtired mind
I stood in the kitchen this afternoon, transfixed by an empty jar of peanut butter. It was maybe 1:30 and I’d finally gotten around to making myself some lunch. So I pulled out the crunchy peanut butter and some cherry preserves (mmmm… sugary fruit) and made myself a sandwich by carefully scraping the last of the peanut butter from the jar.
Then I stood there, jar in hand, while a battle raged within me. On the one hand: I am a proponent of recycling. On the other hand: Peanut butter is sticky, and the jar really needed to be WASHED rather than just rinsed, and it was already well past my normal lunchtime and I was hungry and tired. On the third (invisible! mutant!) hand: Have I really become the sort of person who shirks recycling because, waaahhhh, it’s too HARD?
Plumbing the depths
Good news! Through a mixture of planning, assisting, and bribery, I was able to get the kids to clean up the damn playroom already. I know you were all really concerned about it. I discovered that with three of us and about an hour, and a liberal application of “Well, I suppose you COULD keep that, but I wonder if Santa will think you have room for anything else…,” almost anything is possible. If by “almost anything” you mean “enough cleaning happens that the carpet is revealed and can be vacuumed.”
At one point during a tense “you’re really too old for this toy now” negotiation, Monkey became the epitome of generosity and zen. “That’s okay, Mama, you should give that to some little kids who don’t have much. It’s better to give than to receive, anyway.” I was about to gush all over him about what a wonderful sweet boy he is, when he continued on: “Besides, it’s November. Next month is Christmas and Santa comes and then the next month is my birthday, so I think I’m gonna be getting lots and lots of stuff!” read more…
Instead of writing the PTA newsletter
So last night, I got home (the trip back was as uneventful as the trip there, save for the lady next to me on the plane sucking down drinks in a manner that made it necessary for her to exclaim loudly to her companion across the aisle about every fascinating item in her Stampin’ Up! catalog) and ran around my house turning the heat back up and went through my mail and then sat down to tell you every fascinating little iota about my mini-vacation.
And discovered that my internet connection wasn’t working.
It was touch-and-go there for a few minutes, while I tried to remember what one does with no internet. Do I panic? Cry? Read a book? Rub two sticks together? It had been so long, I just wasn’t certain of the protocol. Finally I broke out of my paralysis and called the cable company. read more…