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 call it How Long Does Vomit Maintain Its Ability to Offend the Olfactory Senses? That would look great on a college application, now wouldn't it?

Valentine's Day is a No Weight Watchers Zone, by the way. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning. I mean, what would have been the point? The house was a veritable dieting minefield, filled as it was with Rice Krispy treats and cookies and the big heart-shaped box of chocolate given to me by my loving but misguided husband. Tomorrow, I will climb back on the points-counting, healthy-eating wagon; but for another hour or so, everything edible here is fair game. And, since the kids are finally in bed, it's mine, all mine!

I broke my bedtime rule this evening, and boy did I regret it. By 8 o'clock all the kids were running around and screaming at each other. Rachel touched Susie's balloon; and then Susie took Rachel's puppy (the one from Santa), because she likes Rachel's puppy with the pretty red bow around its neck better than the boring brown doggy that she got from Santa. Brian was crying that his feet felt funny, and Anna was pitching a fit in the kitchen because she had to load all of 5 dishes into the dishwasher and turn it on.

So I spanked them all soundly and sent them to bed. Well, I wish I had, anyway. What I really did was wrest the puppy out of Susie's fat little hands and watch her big brown eyes well up with big fat tears, which damn near broke my heart. Then I gave Brian Tylenol and told him to lie down and recuperate in his vomity-smelling bedroom. And I left Larry to deal with the overgrown tantrum-thrower in the kitchen while I lay in bed with Susie and read a book until she fell asleep over an hour later.

All of which explains why I am downstairs at close to midnight eating my Valentine's chocolate and feeling cheated out of my evening , rather than upstairs giving my husband the rest of his Valentine's present. In case you were wondering....

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 myself for getting out and mingling with real people, rather than opting to stay home, on the computer, "chatting" with my imaginary friends. The result? I came home with 2 new blog addresses to add to my reader. Oh, dear.

But it seems that on the spectrum of blog addiction, I'm somewhere in the middle - not yet completely lost in the world of virtual friends, but definitely heading for the danger zone. Those of you who commented on yesterday's post that you peruse fewer than 20 blogs, just wait. You'll get sucked in too.

What fascinated me was the range of rationalizations we use to justify our Internet habits. "I read a lot of blogs, but I don't comment much" - is that the equivalent of not inhaling, Sue? I'm just wondering. And Kelli claims that she reads them for the recipes. Tell me, is that like reading Playboy for the articles?

Some people, such as Mary Alice, feel that organization is the answer to the problem of blogging taking up too much time. Still others opine that, while blogging may be a bad habit, it is only replacing other bad habits, such as TV watching and online shopping. And then there are the few, the proud, who make no excuses whatsoever (or else they are just so far gone they don't even realize what's happening to them).

Questions of blog etiquette also arose. Is it impolite to visit a blog without leaving a comment, as mrs. g. suggested? Perhaps that would be the virtual equivalent of peeping in someone's windows.... And if you don't have a reader or blogroll, but just sort of "link around," does that make you a blog slut, as Manic Mommy hypothesized?

Blog slut - I love that.

So I'll leave you to ponder all these musings on the nature of our virtual connectedness, while I prepare to host a Valentine's Day party tomorrow. Volunteering to host get-togethers of this nature is the only way I can get myself to clean up my house. Public shaming is a powerful motivator.

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, valentines) - it kept the kids busy, and I (the eternal optimist) even entertained the notion of being able to spend the afternoon sitting peacefully at the kitchen table with them, decorating cardstock with foam hearts and cute pictures and drinking hot cocoa. Instead I spent an hour and a half resolving one crisis after another concerning not-self-adhesive foam hearts and dried up glue sticks and stamp pad property rights; and then I had to clean up the stove where the hot cocoa boiled over, and one of the neighbor's 4-year-olds didn't make it to the bathroom in time...all of which conspired to destroy any misguided notions of a Mary Engelbreit type day (please click on that link, because a picture is worth a thousand words).

Maybe next year...

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 responses on what to do for your husband for Valentine's Day. I'd say that Derfwad Manor is sacrificing the most for her sweetheart (turning off your computer for the entire day, mrs. g? Are you trying to make me look bad?); and I would like to advise Neil that if his wife wants Valentine's Day to be all about her, I say go with it. I mean, if you like her and all...

Which reminds me - never marry a man whose birthday is February 14th. A friend of mine did this, and every Valentine's Day she has to listen to him complain about having to buy her a present on his birthday.

*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 always mean to my children.) I was shocked when Larry offered to play, too. Then he was insulted that I was shocked. It's just that he rarely plays games with us, and when he does, he never gets very excited about what we are playing. He doesn't jump up and down and shout when he rolls a large straight, and he never offers a running color commentary on the game. I mean, what's the point in playing if you're just going to sit there and roll dice?

He was raised as an only child, sort of (his siblings are much older than him), so maybe he just can't understand the thrill of intrafamily competition. Those formative years are so important.

Sleep is important, too; and Larry is starting to grumble about my never going to bed until midnight lately. It's just that sitting up in a quiet house is so peaceful....I never want it to end.

What do y'all get your husbands for Valentine's Day? I mean, that you can talk about on a G-rated blog?