Making the kids look easy
I really like dogs. And I really like my friends. So I offered to keep my friends’ dogs while they go away for the weekend, on account of it’s a big furry likefest amongst people and dogs alike! And also because I smoke an awful lot of crack sometimes.
Haha! I kid. Smoking is a nasty habit. I prefer shooting up, as it keeps the surrounding air unsullied.
I’m sorry. I’m just a tad punchy right now. Perhaps because I am completely exhausted from–*time check*–two hours with the dogs. I may need to call for reinforcements before Sunday.
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Even anti-christs are sometimes boring
Gah. I started this whole thing about people feeling the need to be pointedly hateful and blah blah blah and you know what? No. I’m saddened when I’m misinterpreted, especially by people who lack information and, it would seem, enough happiness to keep themselves occupied. But as someone was kind enough to point out to me, they have to live with themselves forever. And I don’t.
So! I may in fact be the anti-christ according to something like .1% of my readership, but I will continue to do what I damn well please (maybe twice as much! so there!) because there’s just no pleasing some people. Those of you with a sense of humor and a little empathy and–here’s the important one–the ability to keep your head out of your or anyone else’s ass? Are pretty. The end.
But I still don’t think I have anything very interesting to talk about today. Oh well!
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I’m not Supermom, but I know where she is
I’m a bit talked out after the last few days. Hard to believe, I know. Shut. UP.
Today my dear sweet Monkey had to have blood taken, and I daresay the lab tech had never before heard a parent soothe a frightened child with, “It’s okay, sweetie. No one’s going to stick anything up your nose.” He was a champ, though. Chickadee put her arm around him afterwards and whispered, “I totally would’ve cried. Good job, buddy.”
ANYWAY. I’m always a little nervous when people start making comments about my mothering. Good or bad, my knee-jerk response is I’M NO SUPERMOM! I’m just… a mom. But I’m always fascinated with this concept that there is some sort of perfect maternal ideal to which we all aspire, consciously or not.
That’s why it’s SO LUCKY for all of us that Melanie Lynne Hauser has written this little book called Confessions of a Super Mom. It was just released and promises to be an entertaining read, even if it might not actually hold all the secrets of attaining Mom Divinity. Melanie has a fun blog, too.
Go visit her and say congratulations and buy a copy or three of her book!
Counterbalance
Normally, I am a great big lazy brat about comments. I love receiving them. I read them all, they make me feel warm and fuzzy (generally), and I almost never send mail back to the commenters because I have the attention span of a fruit fly UNLESS you are either rubbing my feet or feeding me something yummy.
But I am so touched that so many people took the time to respond to my last post (subtitled I Am A Big Loser But Also A Comment Whore), that I am going to attempt to answer every comment. If you don’t hear from me in the next couple of days, feel free to kick my ass.
(Also: Thank you.)
And now let’s swing over to the other side of life, for a hefty dose of What Keeps Me Going:
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Weekend Confessional, Part 3
Welcome to the third and final chapter in this series. After tonight, I’ll have nothing left to confess for a while. I think. I still can’t remember where Jimmy Hoffa is, but that could change after a few more treatments. *twitch*
So. If you read Chapter 1, you know that I’m often plagued by a variety of guilt-inducing concerns, both large and small. And if you read Chapter 2, you know that some of my recent wallowing had to do with being unlucky in love.
It stands to reason that Chapter 3 be the crowning glory in a series of regrets, no? I don’t think this will disappoint. But how, you ask, does one top a mother’s anguish over pop-tarts coupled with organic milk, and then a love betrayed?
Easy.
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Weekend Confessional, Part 2
Now that I’ve gotten the minutiae out into the open, I think I may be ready to handle some of the bigger stuff. Here I am, about to do what I do–which is, apparently, overshare, without enough censoring. If you’d like to play your part, after I do so you will stomp on my heart and tell me it’s my fault for being too honest!
Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Also, now I have this whole new strategy where the heart-stomping won’t happen any more, on account of I no longer give a damn. That comes later, too, but I’m very proud of my new outlook. You’ll see.
But to start: Hi, my name is Mir, and I confess that I have terrible taste in men.
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Weekend Confessional, Part 1
I’ve realized over the course of the last few weeks that there are a number of things I want to get off my chest. And you know, for SOME reason my therapist refuses to meet with me every single day. And so I turn to you, dear Internet, for my absolution needs. I think that’s fair.
What you need to understand about me is that I have perfected the art of guilt. Consider me a trifecta of self-condemnation: I’m female (lord knows there was never a man who felt badly about anything that didn’t result in physical pain), I was raised Jewish (need I say more?), and I’m a mother (two kids = four times the guilt!).
The end result is that some of the things I feel badly about are bona fide issues, and others are not. But they ALL contribute to the ulcer I’m nurturing.
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I only use it for medicinal purposes
I had a lot of trouble getting dressed today.
Oh, sure. There are many things I’ve yet to master in this life, and putting clothing on my body usually doesn’t make that list. But today was different, because today I was heading over to the hospital for my BONE DENSITOMETRY scan.
BONE DENSITOMETRY (as my handy brochure rushed to tell me) “is performed to measure the denity of bone in the spine and hips.” Furthermore, “BONE DENSITOMETRY allows your physician to assess your risk of stress fractures due to bone loss.” I guess the method where they just twist your arm a little and see if your wrist snaps has fallen out of favor. Anyway, my informative brochure also stresses that “Metal and plastic in the area being examined interfere with the exam. Please avoid clothing with snaps, buttons and zippers. Jogging suits, slacks or skirts with elasticized waistbands, and a jersey or knit top work well.”
I do not own any jogging suits, nor any item with an elasticized waistband. Nope. Apparently, I am a slave to snaps, buttons and zippers.
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Indispensable guidance
Today was quite a lovely day for having a 34th birthday. (Thirty-FOUR, people. Why do you all want to make me older? Is it the grey? Sheesh.) After several days of storms, today was sunny and temperate. I ate my body weight in mexican food for lunch. The children produced adorable gifts for me, even while ratting out Daddy for taking them shopping YESTERDAY. (Dude, seriously. Your next wife is not gonna go for that crap. You had them with you for NINE DAYS STRAIGHT and you had another adult there to help you. Where in the bible does it state that thou shalt not shop more than 24 hours in advance?)
My parents sent me funny cards with money in them. I love money! I mean, um, I love funny cards! And the friend who took me to lunch gave me a gift certificate for a store that doesn’t sell anything useful, because she is a genius. (True story: Another friend gave me a gift card to Target one time, and I used it to buy stuff for the kids. I am not so good with the whole “spoil myself” thing, sometimes.)
And people called, and emails came, and comments were left (thank you!) (you’re pretty!!), and insomuch as it’s possible for me to feel warm and fuzzy these days–which, granted, is not all that much because I’m working on that whole “dead inside” schtick–today was pretty good.
But wait–there’s MORE!
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In lieu of sex and drugs
Something very exciting is going to happen to me, tomorrow. I’d thought that my recent trip was all the fun one person could stand in a lifetime, let alone a single week, but there is no stopping this. Ready or not, time is marching onward.
Actually, a whole bunch of exciting things are happening tomorrow, if you want to get technical about it. It’s pretty much going to be a non-stop bonanza of ECSTASY around here! Wooooooo!
You’re jealous. It’s okay; I understand. It’s a natural response. Don’t hate me because my life is thrilling!
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