Must… not… succumb…
There are certain changes that happen to a woman when she becomes a mother. If she gives birth, her body changes; it will likely never be the same again, whether from stretch marks or breast changes or surgical traces. Whether the child comes from her body or not, the mother is transformed. She now has eyes in the back of her head. She has bionic hearing. She has an innate lie detector and an Achilles heel.
And of course, every mother has the highly developed ability to become a martyr at a moment’s notice.
(Admittedly, some of the Mommy Powers are more useful than others.)
I’ve yet to find a useful application for the martyr role, but that doesn’t stop me from fluttering my eyelashes at it, buying it a drink, and leaning in close to it, sometimes. I can’t seem to help myself. Its pull is sometimes irresistible.
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Evolution
Today I have pleased the fickle fates. My spaztastic keyboard spontaneously healed itself; it was fine this morning when I came downstairs. I typed extra words, waiting for the cursor to start leaping around on the screen, but my keyboard coolly kept placing the letters one after another in logical succession. I think I heard it laughing at me. (“Great job screwing with her mind!” the mouse snickered to its companion. “She’s actually wondering if maybe she imagined all of that last night!”)
Also, I’m pretty sure my hair grew a little bit last night. Really. It so did. JUST LET ME BELIEVE THAT AND SMILE AND NOD. Thanks. You’re pretty.
And lastly, I got an invitation to participate in a migraine study! That’s GOT to be a good sign! Because, you know, usually my migraines only get me, oh, pain and vomiting and whatnot. They don’t often pay $50. But maybe my luck is turning.
Needless to say, armed with all of these favorable omens, I started thinking about Christmas shopping.
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I want to smell her first
So much for liveblogging her labor (I wasn’t really sure how she’d pull that off, frankly), but I’ve heard from Zoot’s Mom that Zoot gave birth to a beautiful baby girl this morning.
Welcome to the world, NikkiZ! And congrats to the entire Zoot clan!
Even my keyboard is scared
U, riht now my keyboard is randomly skipping th cursor all around without ay iput from me, resuting in letters eing shunte to teh end of where I’m typing and lttle curls of smoke comign out my ears. It’s a cordless keyboard, and changed the batteries, and it’s silldoing it. This is m NEWCOMPUTER and I am NOT AMUSED. y tIidblnmnegm
Be that ay, bitch. Ill go use my laptop, then.’w
[Upstairs on my laptop, now.] Oh lord. If there is something wrong with my computer–on top of the recent events of Hairgate–I cannot be held responsible for my actions. I’m just sayin’. There’s only so much a person can be expected to withstand before they crack. Let’s just say I may be showing a few stress fractures, already.
Hey! Guess what happened today! GUESS!
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Hilarious misunderstandings!
I should’ve known this was coming. I mean, it’s karmic retribution for blithely tossing around the word “malapropisms” a few days ago. Stupid! I should’ve covered myself better. I should’ve known! Murphy is no friend of mine. Murphy comes up as “Unavailable” on the Caller ID and then tries to sell me aluminum siding during dinner, in fact.
And yet, here I am. Victim of so many communication failures. It is to laugh, if only I can stop wailing and gnashing my teeth long enough to do so.
Example 1: “No, Mama. I am TELLING you, they were talking about the LONG Ranger. He had to ride for a very LONG time. See? You’ve never even SEEN that show. And LONE isn’t even a word.” (My wise reaction: I backed away slowly, because heaven forbid I actually be RIGHT about anything.)
Example 2: “I didn’t kick you! I was just… rubbing your leg… with my foot… a little.” (My wise reaction: Mama Death Glare, judiciously administered until the little head hung and the lip quivered and an apology was offered.)
Example 3 is more complicated. But I’m sure it’s just as funny! Or will be, someday, looking back, after a LOT of alcohol!
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Mysteries of the universe
It’s Sunday night, and I’m all about the deep thoughts. There are so many unknowns in this world… I only wish I could unravel the truth behind some of these complex issues. I think I would sleep better at night. Hey, I would certainly sleep better at night if a man who adores me was all cuddled up with me, but that would probably lead to him stealing the covers and snoring and farting and God only knows what else, plus that’s just not happening anyway, so let’s proceed on the theory that my sleep will be aided by figuring out some of these things, instead.
And stop looking at me like that.
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Up close and way too impersonal
As most of you have figured out, I don’t respond to all of the comments and email I receive. I try to be pretty good about it, but oftentimes things get lost in the shuffle as I’m working or beating the children or just generally living life. And lately I’ve gotten all sorts of questions and emails and I’m just thinking it may be time to address some of these things.
So then I thought, I could go through and answer all of those emails! And comments! And I could call my parents more often like a good daughter! And be more patient when my kids ask me the same questions over and over!
But those inclinations–thankfully–passed quickly. Instead I think it would make a lot more sense to post for the general edification of those around me. Which sounds so much more altruistic than saying that I am just lazy.
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Karaoke chicken… it’s what’s for dinner
My children are old enough now that we’re almost beyond the age of hilarious malapropisms. Alas! For some reason, though, Chickadee has a mental block with the word teriyaki. And this is particularly unfortunately because she just LOVES teriyaki chicken. So she’ll ask me if we can have karaoke chicken for dinner, and I’ll tell her I’m just not sure the chickens will be able to hold the microphone, and she becomes very annoyed with me. This doesn’t stop me from cracking the very same joke the next time it happens, by the way.
Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about amusing word play when little miss so-not-a-morning-person walked into my room this morning at o’dark thirty, half-dressed. Usually I have to DRAG her out of bed, and I’m sure that if I’d been, you know, AWAKE, I would’ve thought to myself, “Self, this is quite unusual.” But instead, I uttered the first profundity that occurred to me: “S’early.”
She slipped into bed beside me and we went back to sleep.
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Publicized
A friend of mine called me early this morning to tell me to look at the front page of our local paper. I found this… odd. But I did as she said, and then I understood.
My divorce attorney—whom I had hired both because he was a friend of a friend and because he seemed very genuine—is, um, well… he’s in jail. Like, actually locked up, behind bars, being held on some ridiculous sum of cash-only bail. He is charged with embezzlement of a huge chunk of money, as well as tax evasion.
Gah. I guess I should just be glad this didn’t happen a couple of years ago while he was working for me.
Of course, my friend and I discussed how it’s simply not possible that the charges are true. Surely it’s a mix-up of some kind. Surely he’ll be found innocent. Unless he’s not. Because I guess sometimes people are capable of terrible things, even when you think they’re not.
It wasn’t really the way I wanted to start my day.
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Why yes. . . yes, it is
We all know how much I absolutely LOVE to have my picture taken. Yes! It makes me SO HAPPY. Not AS happy as prolonged vomiting, mind you, but slightly happier than, say, a rectal exam. (I’m pretty sure the sarcasm isn’t directly related to photography, but who knows. It could be a side effect of the PURE RAPTURE.)
Anyway, in spite of my deep love of various representations of myself in photos–which invariably yield something where I appear to either be swallowing my own chin or displaying my teeth to prove that I am indeed related to Mr. Ed–I was so excited today, I had to take a picture.
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