Showing posts from February, 2008

In Which I Feel Sarcastic

I just came back from having a cavity filled, and I am proud to report that I conducted myself with dignity. I even refrained from grabbing the dentist's arm while he wielded his drill. Of course, the valium probably helped.

And this just in - my blog is cute and endearing. At least, that's what some of the reviewers over at humor blogs said, and I don't think they meant that in a good way. They were probably just feeling cranky because they had to read a mommy blog. Apparently, we mommy bloggers are serious anathema to the, uh, serious humorists in the blogosphere. They only let us mommies hang around their site so that they'll have someone to laugh at their jokes. Girls are good for that.

Cute and endearing...I guess that beats "bitter, bored, and long-winded," which is how MadMad's blog was categorized. Maybe I should try to get sponsorship from Hallmark - or, even better, My Little Pony.

Now I'm trying to think of something cute to write. My…

War is Hell

I swear, in all the years they have been alive, not one of my children has ever, of his/her own will, turned off a light. I'll go upstairs and find it devoid of people, yet with 3 bedroom lights, one hallway light, and one bathroom light, all on. I think it's all part of their NILE initiative - No Illumination Left Extinguished. Just a few people's effort to make their tiny corner of the world a little brighter....

And in this (bright) corner of the world, what makes the front page of major newspapers (print edition) are school redistricting fights. That's right, there's the war in Iraq; but there are the more important wars here at home, such as whose child gets to go to an AP school versus an IB school. Though these differences seem trivial to outsiders, they spark internecine violence, such as fistfights among parents at school bus stops (please, people, the children! Spare the children!). Irate homeowners storm the offices of local realtors, who made unkee…

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

That's right, you didn't hear from me last night. I had to go to bed early, as my husband apparently thinks I need to be up at the crack of dawn. There's nothing like a dentist appointment to make me wish I weren't a grown-up. I don't want to be mature and take myself to the dentist. I want to be dragged kicking and screaming to the car, and I definitely need a balloon afterwards. And a sticker.

Is that weird?

I made up for my unhappiness this morning by being grouchy towards Larry. I'll give him credit - he didn't take the bait. And he actually heated up the car for me, which was nice. So I forgive him. But I did schedule the next appointment myself.

I needed x-rays today, which I hate, because I have the smallest mouth for an adult (something Larry finds hard to believe); and those squares they stick in your mouth for the x-ray are always too big. The dental hygienist (I guess just for emphasis) (or maybe she didn't like my looks) went into a b…

Handbag Math

The few guys who read this may just want to leave the room now. No, I'm not going to be talking about anything embarrassing like tampons or such; but I'm willing to bet that you could care less about handbags. Go check out The Clay Pigeon - Grundir the Implacable is dispensing work life advice, and there's the scariest bunch of trash-talkin' math wizards you could ever hope to meet. You can come on back for the last 2 paragraphs, where I discuss the mean trick my husband played on me this morning.

Anyway, gals, I went to Target tonight for some Vagisil (ha, ha, just kidding, just wanted to get rid of those interfering men) and I spotted a new handbag. It sort of leapt out at me and asked me to hold it and check out its cellphone pocket (isn't this the first thing you do with purses now, look for where the cellphone goes?). It's fun, it's flirty; in other words, it's totally not me. So I was trying to decide whether or not to take a big leap of fait…

To Google Or Not To Google...

Okay, this may just be the worst sore throat I have ever had. I'm still not letting myself Google "diphtheria." But I spent a good hour and a half last night having panic attacks about it. Hypochondria is a harsh mistress.

Today I went to the commissary to stock up on food for the next 2 weeks, illness be damned. I did okay, though I think I was sort of whimpering by the time I reached the checkout. I came home and went to bed, which my contract definitely doesn't allow; but I don't care. My husband won't fire me, because he wouldn't be able to find anyone else dumb enough to take my job.

Not the best of days, folks; my usual light-hearted wit (ahem) has high-tailed it out of here for the duration. If anyone finds it, please let me know.

Fever Dreams

I dreamed Alan Alda got mad at me last night. He was at a party in my house and he kept spilling orange juice on the hardwood floors. When I asked him to please move the orange juice pitcher into the kitchen, he became quite irate. He could not believe I was being such a fusspot about the OJ, and I ended up feeling guilty because, let's face it, Alan Alda seems like a pretty nice guy; if he is mad at me, it must be my fault.

If that all is supposed to mean something, I have no idea what it is.

Maybe that's just what happens when you go to sleep drugged up on Tylenol and Sudafed. Or perhaps I was delirious with fever. All I know is I feel like crap, and the zillion and one things I normally get done on Saturdays are not getting done, which means the coming week is going to be hell. And for some reason, Susie has chosen today of all days to whine a lot in my vicinity. It hurts to hear it. Everything hurts, actually. The mattress hurts. I'm most comfortable curled up i…

The Eternal Miscellany of a Cluttered Mind

Larry and I did the teamwork thing this evening in order to get the Sudafed into Susie's mouth before bedtime. He held down her legs and arms; at the same time, I immobilized her head with one forearm while sticking the medicine syringe (lovingly) into her screaming mouth. We're quite good at this maneuver, having had much practice over the years. Which made me realize: soon I won't need this skill (and others like it) at all. In a few years there will be no screaming toddlers or babies to force into hard-to-buckle car seats (damn those 5-point harnesses!) or strollers. There will be no incredibly messy diapers to clean up, and we won't need syringes to administer medicine. In fact, all the skills that I have so painstakingly developed over the past 16 or so years will soon be completely irrelevant.

In other words, my iceberg is melting. And it's a frightening feeling. The only useful know-how I'll be left with will be some rudimentary knitting skills. …

Hypochondria, Unleashed

Sometimes, I like to fantasize what my life might be like if I could take a shower in the morning without 2 little girls in the bathroom with me, bickering over which one gets to unwrap Mommy's Kotex. Just in case you thought there was a cure for sibling rivalry, I'm here to tell you that no, there isn't. Siblings will fight over anything. They're programmed that way.

I managed to pierce my foot on some sharp piece of jewelry crap on the girls' room floor this morning, and the doctor's office recommended that I come in for a long-overdue tetanus shot. So, blowing some finely-laid morning plans to hell, I headed out, down my ice-glazed steps and to my ice-glazed car, which I couldn't open. So I called the doctor's office to tell them that my car was frozen shut. Meanwhile, Theo, always intrigued by a challenge, went outside to see what he could do and came back in to report that the reason I couldn't get the car open was because the doors were.…

That's Amore!

I never realized how much in demand pizelle-making is in a man. All over the blogosphere, it seems, there are women swooning at the thought of a husband making his own pizzelles. If I had mentioned that Larry also cleans the kitchen up afterward, I think I would have to fear for my marriage.

Oh, and his sister (who doesn't keep up-to-date on my blog) called yesterday and asked me if Larry was okay, because he had sounded sort of stressed on the phone the other night. "Does he get any exercise?" she asked, solicitously. "I don't know," I demurred. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Yeah, I set her up. And I don't care.

"Be nice to me!" Susie shouts, to no one in particular. She knows her rights. Now she is waving a pretty dress in my face, demanding it be draped immediately onto her fat little body. Each morning she rises with the sun, agog with anticipation for (of?) that day's wardrobe choice. Nighttime has become a part…

Enough About Me

Nada. Zip. Nothing. That's how much weight I lost this past week. Of course, I could take a glass-half-full perspective and say that that is how much weight I gained this past week. Either way, I don't feel as though I'm getting my 40-dollars-a-month worth. And I'm hungry.

Being hungry makes me really cranky, especially when I start surfing the blogosphere in order to take my mind off food and I run into 2 or 3 blog posts in a row which are going on and on and on about doughnuts and other baked treats. Complete with pictures, wouldn't you know? Blogging can make you fat.

Manic Mommy has tagged me with a meme, or what she called a heme, as she made it all about her husband. Which may not be a bad idea....

1. My husband doesn't like jokes about exercise.

2. He tends to fall asleep in the den with his headphones on, plugged into music on the computer, which makes it awfully tempting to turn up the volume. But I resist.

3. When he sees me relaxing with some knit…

Love And Marriage

The plumber came to visit today; it almost felt like old times. Larry was thrilled when he pointed out that in order to fix the problem with our tub drain, he would have to cut a large hole in the freshly painted living room ceiling. Nothing like paying someone to trash your house...

Larry went jogging today. He exercises on all federal holidays, whether he needs it or not. That's a joke. I thought it was funny. Larry didn't. I told him he could make fun of my Weight Watchers recidivism, just to get even; but he was still mad. So I got mad that he was mad. Things went downhill from there.

Some days, "until death do us part" seems like a really long time.

And would you believe, he still wanted to hang up pictures together today? Is he trying to finish us off, or what? Why doesn't he just call the divorce lawyer and be done with it? I ignored him, so he hung up all that crap where he felt like it. And tomorrow, when he goes to work, I may just take the u…

Brave New World

Judging from the results of my extremely unscientific survey, it just may be that the sound of the newspaper hitting the front porch in the morning will soon go the way of the clinking of milk bottles being delivered in the early AM. Soon people who read the print edition of the paper will be considered rather quaint, like those people who smoke pipes or sew their own clothes. It is quite possible that you do have to be a bit old-fashioned, as Bia put it so nicely, to want to sit around the kitchen table drinking coffee and looking at the newspaper with your spouse. In fact, Larry and I attempted to do that very thing this morning - but our conversation was soon interrupted by 2 little girls who, not understanding that we were trying to save a dying tradition, deluged us with requests for food and crayons and general attention. Maybe when we are old (and the kids are grown), we'll be able to sit around on a Sunday morning with the papers spread out before us and coffee and bagel…

The Times, They Are A-Changin'...

Who knew there were so many parents with residual-vomit stories to share? Before I started this blog, I would have naively believed I was the only person living with lingering puke smells; but now I realize what an ignorant fool I was. From where I'm sitting (reading yesterday's comments), it would seem that there is a veritable plague of vomit-smell-ridden bunkbeds and carpets and cars out there in this great land of ours. It's an epidemic! Forget global warming - why aren't the great minds of our generation working to save us from this pestilence?

Just had to get that off my chest.

But here's another question. The other day, in the foyer of our local supermarket, there were 2 gentlemen attempting to get people to subscribe to our local paper (one of the big national papers, really). You would have thought they were panhandling, the way people were avoiding eye contact and brushing past them. People wouldn't even accept the free newspaper that was offered…

Chocolate Makes The World Go 'Round

We had a romantic Valentines Dinner out, Larry and I and the 6 kids, at a local burger joint. After yelling at the children for 3 hours this morning in order to get the house ready for the party, I was too wiped out (lazy, really) to make a decent meal. And since I hadn't fed the kids anything but candy and cake all day, I wasn't able to rationalize feeding them that crap for dinner also. I haven't sunk that low yet. Give me another year.

Anyway, now Brian feels sick (but not in a stomach way, thank goodness). For some reason (that I really do not want to think about at all), the boys' room still smells like puke from the bunkbed vomiting incident 4 months ago. You would think that even if I had missed some vomit in the clean-up(s), the leftover stuff wouldn't smell anymore. Or maybe you don't think about things like that at all. Maybe that's my own particular hobby.

I should just turn this problem into a homeschool science fair experiment - we could c…

What's Wrong With Addiction, Anyway?

Half a pound. Up. That's what a week of denying myself leads to - a weight gain of half a pound. Imagine how much I would have gained if I hadn't been on a diet. It is becoming clear to me that I have a choice for the rest of my life - look good, or eat like a normal human being. I can't decide.

It was one of those days (those many, many days) when only the lobotomizing effect of having been around small children for almost 2 decades prevented me from going absolutely crazy. It was close, though. Forget waterboarding - stick some prisoner in a cell with Rachel and Brian bickering non-stop for 8 hours, and he'll tell you anything you want. I'm betting that would be a violation of the Geneva Conventions, though. Torture, plain and simple.

It was a relief, I must admit, to abandon my family this evening in order to attend Knit Night, where I can converse with adults about topics other than who started it and who is supposed to do what chores. And I was proud of m…

I Can Quit Anytime (Maybe)

Let me be the first to admit I have a problem here. I started blogging 6 months ago and I thought, you know, that I could handle it - there was no way I would turn into one of those mommy bloggers who are glued to the computer for hours every day, chatting with people they've never seen and looking at pictures of other people's kids while ignoring their own.

Well, today I realized (while batting my 5-year-old daughter away from the computer) that I have 62 blogs on my reader. 62. That's ridiculous. Add to that the fact that some of you are blogging overachievers who feel the need to post more than once a day, and you've got a recipe for serious child neglect on my part.

I don't know how this happened to me. I used to wax rhapsodic about the joys of living in the real world and seeing people face-to-face; I would criticize (gently) those of my friends who were neglecting the real people in their lives in order to spend time online with people they had never even …

Hissy Fits And Tantrums Always Get Me Down

This is the week of our NPR station's semi-annual pledge drive, which usually drives me up a wall. Sometimes I don't even listen the whole week. But this year, something is different. Listening to them beg for money over and over again, and describe the "thank you" mug in detail, and talk about how much it costs to buy body armor for their foreign correspondents - I don't know, it's sort of soothing. I like it. This worries me.

Anna regressed today. She'd been doing pretty well for a few weeks, doing her chores without throwing hissy fits and refraining from using the death glare on her hapless siblings. Today, it all came back. Wow. To top it off, she sat around complaining how cold it was and was not at all amenable to my suggestion that she put on more clothes, or at least some socks. In fact, the sock suggestion earned a double death glare. It was rather unreasonable of me. After all, if I would just hike that thermostat up to 75 degrees, s…

Vampires and Valentines

I'm not too sure about this blood-donating thing anymore. I was happy to give and all; but as far as I understood it, no one was going to be bothering me for another 8 weeks. So why did I get a phone call tonight?

Anonymous Vampire: I'm with the Red Cross, and we were wondering if you'd be interested in making a platelet donation next week?
Me: Um, what are platelets?
A.V.: They're in your blood.
Me (relieved): Oh, I gave blood 2 weeks ago. I'm not allowed to give again for a while.
A.V.: This is a different procedure. We take more platelets, but we give you the rest of the blood back.
Me (trying hard not to pass out or throw up): Really?
A.V. (sounding disturbingly enthusiastic): Yes, we stick a needle in each of your arms and....(thud)...hello? Are you there? Hello?

So, Manic, I'm asking you to call off your dogs - they're scaring me. 2 needles? You know, the cookies weren't that good.

In related news, we made valentines today (you know, blood, hearts, val…

Things I Never Learned In Math Class

6 kids equal 1800 dollars in tax rebate. In the words of Marketplace's Nancy Marshall-Genzer, "They really are cheaper by the dozen." I do wish I had thought of that joke first.

1 fun-size Twix equals 2 Mint Musketeers Miniatures (for all you Weight Watchers out there). But, if you leave the open bag of Musketeers next to your keyboard, you end up eating at least 8 points worth before your husband takes it away. After that, you have to settle for licking the empty wrappers (0 points!).

4 pairs of jeans in the laundry hamper equals no pants to wear except the too tight ones that I hang onto for no good reason. (And, yes, I am sitting here at the computer with them unbuttoned just so I can breathe - how did you know?)

One kid with a weird 24-hour fever-and-headache virus equals one week of sickness (at least) in a household of 8 people. Should be a great week coming up, folks! Stay tuned for more news from Quarantine Central....

Finally, one question equals 21 varied respo…

*Knit, Purl, Roll The Dice*

Okay, today I was tempted to do a title, but no post. Get it? The opposite of yesterday? I am too clever...

I hosted the homeschool clubs again today, but I was ready for them this time. One of the mothers brought her new baby, who just happened to be attired in an EZ Baby Surprise Jacket (collective gasp from all you knitters who appreciate the serendipity of this occurrence) that she had made herself (double gasp). In other words, I have a new friend (and she isn't even imaginary).

Being a typical knitter, she immediately offered to talk me through the creation of a BSJ; in the same breath she insisted that I learn Fair Isle too (I was admiring the baby's hat). And, since she also homeschools, we'll get to knit and talk about home education curricula at the same time. Life doesn't get any better than that.

I played Yahtzee with David and Rachel after I put the baby to bed this evening. (I am making sure to mention this here so that you all know that I am not al…

Aaack - No Title - Sorry!

Check out my weight loss ticker - down 2 pounds this week. Actually, I think the lady lied to me again. Those women probably just like messing with my mind. Either that, or the look on my face - you know, that look that says, "If my weight goes up again this week, I'm gonna wrap the cord on this scale around somebody's neck" - scared her into crediting me with some weight loss. Whatever. I don't feel any skinnier, that's for sure. I ate my Twix this evening though, I made sure of that.

I'm feeling lazy tonight - that's why I'm hyperlinking to all my old posts. I even get sort of annoyed now that I can't hyperlink in real life. I mean, when I talk to someone for real, I actually have to explain everything I'm saying rather than simply referring him/her to some past blog post. What a pain in the wonder it's easier to have imaginary friends than real ones. Also, the imaginary friends never ask you to babysit.

That las…

You Can Dress Her Up, But....

I'm having a mild migraine day, and I hate it. I can't focus on anything without feeling like throwing up, I've still gotta amuse the kids, I've still gotta make it through the next 9 hours. When did my life become nothing but an endurance test, anyway?

Susie has a pretty dress on today. Susie has a pretty dress on every day. Because if she doesn't get to wear a pretty dress, she declares her dismay quite loudly, for about an hour. I just cannot withstand that sort of ferocious disappointment right now. Not, and get anything else done.

So she wears her pretty dresses and stands on top of the heating register in the kitchen and watches as her dress balloons out, which makes her giggle. It's a pretty good way to pass the time, actually. Now, if I started doing that, Larry might think my getting a job wouldn't be such a bad know, just to get me out of the house for a bit. Actually, I'm thinking that might not be such a bad idea; except …

I Heart NY

Woo-hoo! The Giants won! I'm excited, and I don't even like football. In fact, I didn't even watch the game really. Larry and I went out to dinner last night (when my best friend heard our plans, she said, "Well, at least it won't be crowded..."); but our table (and, yes, we were the only ones in the dining area, as a matter of fact) was near the bar with the big screen TV's, so we were sort of able to tell when someone made a touchdown (from the cheering). Does that count?

I fell asleep (no, not at the restaurant) before the game was even over; Larry told me the news this morning. The only reason I care is because he's from the Boston area, originally, and I'm from the New York area. So we frequently argue over who is better, those stuck-up Beantowners or the salt-of-the-earth New Yorkers...

I think I'll stop now, before I alienate anyone else. If you folks want to hear from a true Patriots' fan (as in, she actually follows the game…

Rain, Rain, Go Away...

And I thought Rachel's predicting my imminent demise was friend's son Jack (who is all of 5) walks around their house picking up items and saying, "When you're dead, can I have this?" Which is disconcerting enough, of course; but it becomes a thousand times worse when he asks the same thing of his visiting (and elderly) grandmother. He and Rachel would make quite a pair, don't you think so?

My friend called yesterday to remind me that I was hosting the boys' and girls' clubs for our homeschool group - in 20 minutes. My reaction?

I guess it had sort of slipped my mind. The good news is, it takes less than 20 minutes for me and the kids to scoop up all the detritus in our main living areas and deposit it in a heap on my bed. Oh, and close the door to the trash pit we call the laundry room. And all the bedroom doors, too. By the time people showed up, I was sitting on the couch, trying to smile and look relaxed (and breathing really hard).