William Shatner lied to me
So, um, I have a little problem.
I don’t have the kids for Thanksgiving this year, so a few months ago Otto and I talked about me heading down there to spend the holiday with him. But then we decided to be responsible adults or something, I don’t know, and upon realizing that 1) plane tickets are expensive and 2) he’d be back up here a few weeks after Thanksgiving, we decided I should probably skip it.
And I was okay with that. Before. But you know, I like him bunches, and as time passes I miiiiiiiiiiiss him. So I thought I’d look into getting down there. read more…
Ch-ch-ch-changes
My voice has gone through the many stages of aggravated cold status, arriving today at Just Sort Of Husky And If You Didn’t Know It Was Due to Phlegm Maybe Sort Of Sexy. (Previous states include: Raspy, Squeaky, Gone, and Coughing Too Much To Really Talk Anyway.) This stage is my favorite so far. Now when I answer the phone, people seem mildly taken aback and/or confused, as opposed to other stages when my attempt at “Hello?” was greeted with “Oh my GOD you sound AWFUL!”
I was just thinking how much better I felt, this morning, when Chickadee said, “My throat hurts a little.” Hmph.
No matter. I had important things to do today. Like play beauty consultant. read more…
Redefining healthy
So Monkey has a cold, and as it goes when Monkey gets a cold, it grabs him and throttles him and he is miserable for about two weeks. And just when I’m starting to think about pinching his head between two or three fingers to stop the whining, I come down with the same cold, and then I lose the will to do, well, anything.
But today was Monkey’s rescheduled allergist appointment (because the original appointment was a bust) and I dragged the children and my phlegmy self over there (and got lost again! Yay! but not quite as badly as before) and we ended up spending TWO HOURS. And having tests, and getting new medications. So, progress.
About halfway through the appointment, the doctor casually mentioned that we should think about having Monkey referred to another doctor to test him for cystic fibrosis. And then MY HEART EXPLODED.
Half an hour and a lung capacity function test later, she took it back and said it was just asthma. And then I killed her, because that half hour took about twenty years off of my life. On the up side, it sure did put the sniffles, sneezes, wheezes and scrawniness into perspective. I’m almost sorry I killed her.
Blog Book Tour: Green Eggs and Ham Cookbook
Lookie here, it’s another blog book tour, except this one is all INTERACTIVE and stuff. I was sent a copy of Georgeanne Brennan and Frankie Frankeny’s Green Eggs and Ham Cookbook to check out, and I fully intended to read it cover to cover, try a multitude of the recipes, and bust into this review thing ready to assure you that I’d gone to the ends of the… errrr… pages… to really assess this thing right.
I forgot that life likes to laugh at me when I intend to do something that organized. Whoops. But! I still feel qualified to review the book, because let’s be honest: If you’re the sort of person who’s intrigued by a book of recipes based upon Dr. Seuss stories, what are the chances of YOU being any less frazzled than ME? Slim to none, says I.
Just consider this your Real Mom review. I even put my sweatpants on. That’s dedication! read more…
Drugging your child for fun and profit
Oh, settle down. There wasn’t any profit involved for ME.
As I mentioned in passing, Chickadee went to the dentist last week to have a couple of baby teeth out. She was perfectly fine until the syringe touched her gums, and then crocodile tears began to run down her face and the moaning started.
She was, in a word, terrified. And nothing any of us did or said made it any better, and the sweet young dentist removed her gloves and refused to proceed, saying that she didn’t want her to have a “negative experience that will sour her on dentists forever.” I didn’t feel like we were exactly leaving on a high note as it was, but I guess it was better than ripping her teeth out while she sobbed.
Well, today we had the Real Deal. read more…
If they offer me coupons, it’ll get ugly
So, a funny thing was happening with my car. Being the sort of person who is right on top of my car’s performance and maintenance, I’d barely noticed.
But when Otto was here, I started the car up one morning and it stalled. “That’s not right,” he said. “You need to get that looked at.”
“Really?” I countered. “No, see, it’s okay! Because if I restart it, it’s perfectly fine!” And then I backed down the driveway, threw the car into Drive, and ignored it when the transmission slipped and the engine revved and the car didn’t move for a second.
“ACK!” said Otto. “TAKE. YOUR. CAR. TO. THE. DEALER!”
I do not like to make Otto ack. I was suitably chastened. read more…
Careful what you wish for
You know how it is when someone has a new SOMETHING in their life, and suddenly they are incapable of talking about anything but that SOMETHING. Like, when people have a new baby. It’s All Baby, All The Time for a while.
Or when someone gets engaged and they cannot shut up about it and it’s all engagement, rings, campers, weddings, courtroom sketch artists. Like that. How boring, right? I mean, as a reader, your eyes probably start to roll back in your head and you think, “Geez, didn’t she used to write about anything else? Has she always been this insipid?”
The answer, of course, is yes, I have always been this insipid. But I did used to talk about other things, and this week I gazed upon my blog and thought to myself, “I have GOT to stop yammering on about Otto. Surely something else blogworthy will come along.”
Not much has changed
My scintillating discovery of the last few days: I like to say fiancé. It makes me giggle. I harbor a deep suspicion that if I say it too often, the Grown-up Police will come take me away on charges of false impersonation. Which is pretty funny, considering that I’ve been down this road before, have two kids, and by all accounts am pretty much an adult by every available definition. Still. Fiancé.
Feeeeee-on-sayyyyy. I don’t know, I will have to ask my fiancé. Let me discuss that with my fiancé. My fiancé wants a courtroom sketch artist. It rolls right off the tongue, followed by a decidedly immature giggle (or the tremendous effort required to squelch said giggle).
And as long as I’m giggling, I thought it’d be a really good time to try to convince Otto to tell me what kind of wedding ring he’d like. read more…
Mir and Otto, sittin’ in a tree
I was totally going to make y’all wait for further details, because I was sure I’d have an even better story to tell you tonight about how Chickadee had a couple of teeth pulled, but things went awry. Instead of having two teeth extracted per the orthodontist’s instructions, this afternoon Chickadee had a shot of novocaine and became hysterical. After a few bits of poking around in her mouth (to ever-louder anguished wails, despite not flinching a bit at being jabbed with a pointy instrument when she wasn’t paying attention) we were sent away with a referral to an oral surgeon. Laughing gas, here we come!
In the meantime, I guess since you were so sweet and nice with your well-wishes on the last post, I should probably fill you in on that whole marriage thing that’s going to be happening. read more…