Sweet Sorrow? I Think Not.

The blogosphere is a diminished version of its former self today.

No blog is an island, entire of itself; every blog is a piece of the Internet, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less...any blog's death diminishes me, because I am (way too much) involved in the blogosphere...

RIP, Women's Colony. Alas, we hardly knew ye! You were a place for authentic women's voices to be heard, a site where sensitive issues were discussed, a well of collective feminine wisdom and support that is hard to come by in these days of scattered families and busy lives.

And, of course, there was the mancake in that lovely Cabana of yours...

Fare thee well, beloved Mrs G - I am forever indebted to you for the laughs and the thoughtful prose. The thought of blogging without you is almost too much to bear.

Bloggy Book Club Week #2

[To All Of You SITS-tas popping over to check out my "saucy" blog, welcome! You may be interested in starting with the posts listed in the sidebar over there to the left. The Parenting For Dummies posts are aimed at those of us who are moms, and the Most Popular Posts category provides more general amusement. Everything is G-rated, as long as you don't mind the lingerie talk in "Size Matters."]

Ha! Bet you didn't think I could finish another book in just a week and still keep up with my blogging addiction, did you? You folks don't know who you are dealing with. Of course, not being able to sleep for the past week provided me with some extra reading time. Seems that every time I manage to doze off, I can snooze for only 15 minutes before I rouse myself with a hacking cough. And when I'm not coughing, Susie is. Fun times!

Bah! Who needs sleep? Not me! Instead of sleeping, I read Fifty Acres And A Poodle by Jeanne Marie Laskas. It is a funny and well-written true story of how she and her boyfriend/fiance, both urban dwellers, buy an honest-to-goodness farm as part of a sort of midlife crisis. She maintains a charmingly self-deprecating tone throughout most of the book (look at us stupid city slickers!), while providing thought-provoking descriptions of the sort of folk one doesn't generally run into in Starbuck's; people, that is, who drive tractors and raise sheep and go hunting.

While Ms. Laskas is an amusing writer who can tell a good tale (and really, it was hard for me to put the book down), she is also an exceedingly self-referential one. If you are someone (like me) who got married and started having kids in your 20's, there is something vaguely disorienting listening to an almost middle-aged person be so wrapped up in what she is thinking and feeling about herself. People who don't have kids, it seems, have so many issues.

No, no, that's not right. We all have issues. But people without kids have time to think about those issues. All I think about is where my next good night of sleep is coming from and who the heck is driving the girls to flute camp in the morning. Oh, and blogging. I think about blogging. In fact (and I am embarrassed to admit this), I dream about blogging.

So maybe it would be healthier for me to be talking about my own personality issues, as Ms. Laskas does, rather than to be obsessed with people I have never even met; but, truth to tell, other people are much more interesting than I am. So I'll stick to being shallow and non-introspective.

There is a lot about animals in this book. Given, Ms. Laskas writes about animals in such a way that even a person as disaffected as I am (when it comes to the animal kingdom) can understand her attachment to her pets and her farm animals. But I still had to draw a line at the mule. (See? You have to read the book.)

[By the way, speaking of animals and wildlife, I sort of wish I didn't know that this could happen. I doubt I will ever reach into my washer again without looking first, you know?]

So, anyway, whoever is interested in reading this book next, please tell me so in the comments.

(Wait, let's make this a little more difficult. You also need to tell me what animal is featured in the news article I linked to 2 paragraphs ago. That will teach you to pay attention!)

(On second thought, never mind - you can cheat by other people's comments. Duh. Read the darn article, will you? It contains important safety information.)

I will hold a drawing on Sunday to determine the winner. Remember, if you win the book, you need to read it, talk about it a little in your blog (and really, no matter what you say, it has got to sound more intelligent than the blather I come up with), and then give it to someone else to read and comment on. Fun, right? Sort of?

Weekly Wrap-Up

Okay, the winner of this past week's Bloggy Book Club Giveaway is....

farmsuite
whose blog is named...
um...

Farm Suite

That didn't sound right. I've got to work on this. Anyway, be sure to stop by her blog and congratulate her and beg for the opportunity to be the next to read Why I'm Like This by Cynthia Kaplan. Because remember, people, those are the rules - if you win the book, you read it, review it, and hold a drawing to choose the next person to read it.

And, no, I have no idea how to enforce that. Aside from public shaming, of course...

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As if all this excitement weren't enough, I am posting today over at MidCenturyModernMoms about why moms of teens can be such depressing bloggers and how Xtreme Parenting: Teen Edition can fix all that. See you there!

*******************

Oh, and I guess it's time for another book giveaway? Naaah - I'll do that on Mondays from now on. Stay tuned tomorrow for another chance to participate in the Bloggy Book Club, okay? Oh, and farmsuite, e-mail me with your address...

BlogWho?

Um, not to sound jealous or anything, but...could y'all just shut up about the great time you are going to have at a certain bloggers' conference in a certain fun city? Enough, already.

And, while you're at it, please don't spend time bemoaning leaving the kids behind while you attend (mamabird, I'm talking to you!). Just mail your plane ticket to me if you're that torn up about neglecting your motherly duties. I neglect my motherly duties all the time, anyway. I might as well have some real fun while I'm at it.

Sheesh.

[Oh, and if you are interested in participating in this week's book giveaway - Why I'm Like This, by Cynthia Kaplan - please go to yesterday's post and let me know in the comments. Thanks.]

[Cranky? Moi? Hell, yeah.]

Announcing...

I'm starting my very own blogging book club. It will be simple, really. I'll read a book, then I will comment on it and give it away. The person who gets it must promise to do the same. (I have no idea how I will enforce that, of course.) I need some incentive to read something decent, because - really - my brain is rotting away from the inside out. I can feel it. I mean, if I see a blog post with paragraphs more than 5 sentences long and/or no pictures, I skip it 'cause it looks too hard. That is a very bad sign, indeed.

Hence, the fun of a giveaway. Granted, I still haven't mailed the first book I gave away; but I promise I will develop a better system. Maybe.

And if I were Marie of Memarie Lane, I would know how to make some sort of cute button advertising this club. Of course, if I were Marie, I would also know how to make my blog look not like a Creamsicle. Dream on...

So! I would like to start this giveaway with The Devil in the Details (Jennifer Traig); but I can't, because my best friend (hello?! are you reading this?) still has it. Until she decides to pretend that she is still literate and finish reading it, I will have to focus on other books I have read (because I've read about 3 other books since that one, not that my friend is slow or anything...).

Instead, I give you Cynthia Kaplan's Why I'm Like This. Her self-deprecating, somewhat neurotic style is a refreshing contrast to what one would assume to be the self-aggrandizing personality of a New York actress/writer. Cynthia never fails to surprise the reader with a fresh take on typical life situations, leaving him/her with a new appreciation for the mundane.

How did that sound? I've been reading a lot of Amazon book reviews, and I think I'm channeling them. Because, truth to tell, no matter how much I like a book, I always end up at a loss for words when I try to explain it to other people. I say things like, "Well, um, it's about this woman who is also an actress, but she's not really like that, she's sort of a regular person, too."

Or, "It's about this person who grew up sort of Jewish in Connecticut and who lives in NYC, but it's really funny."

Or, "I really liked this book because....hmm...I guess I identified with the author, even though we have absolutely nothing in common."

Anyway, if you are just dying to read this book (and then pass it on!) after those scintillating descriptions, please leave a comment saying that you are interested. Thanks! (I must say, this idea sounded very exciting when I first thought of it; I guess I don't get out much.)

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In other news, I have won the much-coveted (by me) Imperfect Parent Blogger award. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the prize is, other than that it is - in the words of the people running the contest - "unique." Frankly, I don't want unique; I want an Amazon gift card. So there may be another giveaway in the offing here. I'll keep you posted.

Poor Susie keeps jerking awake, saying that her ears hurt. We've already pinned her down and forced Motrin into her, but it doesn't seem to have made any difference (aside from traumatizing me). This situation does not bode well for the rest of our weekend.

The illness seems to have come on rather suddenly, as just today Susie (along with Rachel) was a happy attendee at a birthday party which featured The Reptile Lady. I know that sounds like someone who belongs in a circus sideshow (Step right up! See the Bearded Dragon Lady!), but in actuality it was a very personable young woman who arrived at the birthday girl's house with various ugly creatures in tow. These included a bearded dragon, 3 snakes (including a boa constrictor), and a tortoise. I, for one, was completely grossed out (well, except by the lizard - he was sort of cute). Oh, and Rachel is now the proud owner of a stuffed iguana, awarded for her prowess at Pin the Tail on the Donkey. I hope she didn't cheat. I also hope she doesn't cut its head off.

I chose to hang out at the party with the girls, because the alternative was to stay at home and watch Larry tug huge pieces of flagstone all over our backyard in the 90-plus degree heat. In fact, before the party, I was so desperate to get away that I took the kids on a walk to get a free smoothie at a Grand Opening about a mile from us. I figured we'd be the only people in our rather affluent town to be cheap enough to care about a free 12-ounce drink. Apparently, however, the economic downturn is taking its toll; we arrived to find we were 101st in the line waiting for the store to open. I know we were just past 100, because they ran out of free T-shirts just before we got to the door.

They were good smoothies, though.

Well, that's all the news fit to blog for today (and then some); pop on over to MidCenturyModernMoms if you care to find out what the cardinal rule for raising teenagers might be. Or don't. Whatever. I think I've bothered people enough this week.

Taking Care Of Business...

Maraiya commented yesterday only to ask if I have thrown up yet. Sorry to disappoint all you vomit voyeurs out there, but it seems Brian's puking episode on the 4th stemmed from simple overconsumption of holiday goodies. Nothing contagious, thank goodness.

I don't think I'll be eating cherry pie any time soon, however. Yuck.

Oh, and today Holly, over at June Cleaver Nirvana, gave me an award for making vomit "the new black." Boy, I wish I had thought of that line. I don't really understand the award itself - it's called Arte y Pico, which I think is some sort of salsa. I can't wait to try it.

It seems that there is yet another stumbling block to my being anointed the Imperfect Blogger of the Month. Here I was keeping an eye on Sue , while all the while MadMad has pulled even with me in the voting; and she hasn't been abasing herself by begging her readers for votes, even. I had assumed that her post, although laugh-inducing (as is everything she writes), was way too knitting-oriented to tickle the average non-knitting parent's funny bone. Apparently, I was wrong.

Hey! Maybe it was you all who voted for her. Now I don't know whether to urge the stragglers to get on over there and vote (every day until the 11th!) or not.

Hoist by my own petard, I am...

[All you homeschoolers out there, The Daily Planet is hosting a carnival of delicious homeschooling posts right now - head on over and get the scoop!]

May The Funniest Post Win...

I have been nominated as the "Imperfect Blogger of the Week" for the last week of June. Imagine that - just because I couldn't recognize my own child at the pool. I was sort of excited, at first, because every month they have readers vote for the most Imperfect Blogger of the Week and I figured that no one could beat a story like mine. That is, until I saw that this post of Sue's had also been nominated in June.

So, I was going to beg everyone to go over and vote for me (hurry!), because I think there might be a real prize available; but now I'm just going to have to tell y'all to head on over there and vote your funny bone. That's the only honest thing I can do when I am up against the blogger who makes me laugh every single time she posts. And she's had a rough 6 months. And she's in the middle of moving again. Plus, hers was pretty funny. Damn.

I hope everyone had a glorious (and wormless) Fourth!

[Edited to add: I was about to click "Publish Post" on this item when Theo informed me that Brian had just thrown up. On the top bunk. You know, this gets old. And, mind you, this happened in his new room. Maybe this is how he marks his territory? Unfortunately, this means I will now have 2 bedrooms that stink of puke forever.]

Closets of Darkness

[I'm also posting at MidCenturyModernMoms today. About...middle age...]

Wow. I didn't realize what a project I had taken on. The closets in the kids' rooms were a nightmare. The toys, and the clothes, and the assorted flotsam and jetsam of stray pencils, toys from the dentist, birthday party loot bags, and trash - the horror, oh the horror! During our move last year, I didn't organize the kids' possessions properly; and things have been getting worse ever since. Apparently, the trauma of relocating kept me from even attempting to stay on top of the kid chaos for the past 12 months or so - even with my bag of Flylady tricks, I felt unequal to the task. So, while I kept my kitchen sink shiny and my bathrooms wiped down, everything else in the house has devolved into utter rack and ruin.

I feel like Rip Van Winkle, waking up one year later, looking around and saying, "Where the heck did this mess come from?" I did manage to get everyone switched to their new rooms today, and the younger 4 are all excited, because it's fun to sleep in a different place. Listening to them, you'd think we had relocated to halfway around the planet. Then we went to Target - which, incidentally, has a wonderful air conditioning system - and bought Rachel an early b'day present from Grandma and Grandpa - matching twin patchwork quilts with pretty sheets for her and Susie's beds. So their room is looking pleasingly girly, which makes me feel a lot better. Just don't look in the closet...for the love of God, save yourselves.

Theo will be crashing on the sofa until we manage to haul the humongous filing cabinet out of his new room. (I don't really understand what is in it, as it certainly isn't holding our regular household files - those are overflowing a milk crate in our den, right next to the computer desk.) And then I will still have the pleasure of getting rid of/stashing all the boxes of crap we dumped in the family room. It's enough to make a girl contemplate arson.

Somehow, in between shoveling out closets and desk drawers, I found time today to tidy up and reorganize around here, too. I've been coveting what I call the "live" blog roll I've spotted on other people's blogs. So now (ta-da!) I have one! Check it out. Between that and my "Shared Items" widget, I am feeling positively tech-savvy these days.

Who knows? I may even get up the nerve to mess with my template. Ever since Memarie Lane mentioned that every time she reads my blog, she gets a craving for a Creamsicle, it's been making me sick. I hate Creamsicles.

Can't Beat Yesterday's Title

Well, Larry and Anna left sometime before dawn this morning; my birthday is over; and we have an end-of-homeschooling year picnic to get to (and make a dish for) today. So you can read my maunderings over at MidCenturyModernMoms; or maybe you just need a little break from all this blogging stuff, too. Go ahead. Enjoy yourselves. I'm going to spend most of the next 6 hours trying to dig out from under the detritus that accumulates when I goof off for a couple of days. Let me tell you, it's scary. Laundry, toys, dishes - they are all colluding to make me hide under the bed for the rest of the day.

But it's dirty under there, so I won't. I swear, no one knows how to work a Swiffer around here except me.

Sunday Ramblings

Larry was duly alarmed upon reading yesterday's post. Serves him right for not hiring a nanny. Maybe she wouldn't ignore his children the way I am doing right now. Then again, she might be young and nubile. Okay, new rule - any nanny hired has to be older than me. And not as good-looking. I really don't need the competition.

Today (well, Saturday) happened to be Worldwide Knit in Public Day. Apparently, we knitters are supposed to take to the streets in massive numbers and knit in full view of non-knitters. Personally, I don't think it will make much of an impact, as we usually bring our knitting with us when we go out anyway. Now, if the organizers had called it Worldwide Knit Naked in Public Day, that may have garnered a bit more attention, don't you think?

I don't know why no one consults me on these things.

That's all I've got, folks. I'm also at MidCentury Modern Moms today, as soon as I figure out what the heck I'm going to write. See you there - I'll be the one with the knitting (but fully clothed).

No One Home

I'm not here today. Nope. Spending waaaay too much time on the computer lately, and today happens to be David's 11th birthday. I should pay some attention to him, and bake a cake, and maybe even wrap those presents, right? So go on over to MadMad's blog and read about her underwear. It turns out that she and I wear the exact same kind. Is that amazing, or what? No wonder we are bloggy friends.

I'll try to save you some cake...

Shameless Begging And Other Blogging Hazards

Scribbit is having its monthly Write-Away contest, and the subject is "Going Places." If you are interested in participating, head on over to this post with the entry instructions. Scribbit happens to be one of those bloggers that Sue is insanely jealous of, with companies fairly knocking down her door and falling all over themselves in an effort to give her free products to review. Gourmet popcorn, immersion blenders, you name it - Scribbit finds them on her doorstep. Most recently, she reviewed her free Sony e-reader and gave it a thumbs-up.

Do you hear that, Amazon? How about sending a Kindle this way? I'll write a glowing report that will leave that Sony e-reader in the dust, so to speak. And I promise, the word "vomit" will appear nowhere in the review.

I wouldn't mind some of that gourmet popcorn, either.

Not to alarm anyone, but I have incurred a blogging injury. I sat down at the computer before doing my yoga this morning and managed to pull a muscle in my neck simply by turning my head. My morning yoga routine takes a mere 5 minutes, so don't be too impressed at my regular exercise habits. But, if today is any indication, it does seem that those 5 minutes are all that stand between me and partial paralysis.

Are there personal trainers that specialize in keeping mommy bloggers limber enough for cruising the blogosphere? I think that's what I need. Especially if he is good-looking and does neck massages...

I'm staying up late tonight; if I go to bed, morning will come faster and then it will be time for my endodontist appointment. I wish I had a good movie to watch...

Gone Visiting

I would like to announce that I am approximately halfway to figuring out how to use the "speed dial" function on my cellphone. Go, me! Thank you for all the supportive comments on yesterday's dinosaur post. And thanks also to all the people who refrained from commenting that I must be an idiot not to be able to figure these things out. Your mothers obviously did a very good job teaching you to be polite.

The folks at Mid-CenturyModernMoms have invited me to post there on Sundays. I believe "midcentury" refers to our age - it's a group blog for moms with older kids. So, if you're tired of reading about how cute my little Susie is, you can just wander over there and see what's up with mothers who write about things other than the preschool years.

I'll leave the door unlocked around here if anyone wants to come over and look around while I'm out. Just turn off the lights when you leave!

Wonderful Things

Gee, I should ask for household hints every day. I get more comments that way.

Before all the (much-appreciated) suggestions to use vinegar came pouring in, my Depression-era neighbor advised me to add baking soda to the wash. Being primarily acquainted with baking soda's fire-extinguishing qualities, I was puzzled; but I complied. Wow! You know, I've never really cared much about how I do the laundry, just so long as it gets done; I have never even used fabric softener or dryer sheets. But today, sniffing my sweet-smelling, baking-soda-ed clothes released my inner laundress from whatever dark dungeon she has been cowering in all these years. The formerly funky-smelling laundry smelled so good, I was almost inspired to line-dry it in the sweet spring air. Almost. Fortunately, it's raining today, so I was saved from acting on this rash impulse. And line-drying is outlawed in my 'burb, anyway.

Yes, we are that plastic here.

What astonishes me is that I had such a great weekend, and here I am posting about laundry. Sad, really.

As Amy has already written, one thousand knitters is a sight to behold. And one thousand knitters marching across a small New England college town trying to be first back to the yarn store is almost surreal. And one very funny, very articulate knitter (aka the Yarn Harlot) attempting to sign copies of her book for all these avid fans/knitters is...well...awe-inspiring. And I'm not just saying that because she told me she likes my blog. Ahem. She probably says that to everyone. But, being pathetically needy, I chose to believe her.

And, of course, she may have said that because I once wrote that she is the rock star of the knitting world...

I met many bloggy friends. There was MadMad, of course, who admitted at one point that I was nothing like she pictured me. This confession of hers made me wonder if I were projecting some sort of false persona in my blog. But then Amy, of Live,Learn,Knit, insisted that I was exactly as she had always pictured me (and the feeling was mutual), which just goes to show something profound about blogging, if I could just figure out what it is. Persnickety Knitter was there, as was Newton's Knitting (whose hand-knitted vest was really cool) and Lily Potter Knits, both of whom carpooled with Amy...the list goes on. I felt as though I was having some weird sort of dream where all my imaginary friends were meeting each other.

Amy, I must say, demonstrated remarkable aplomb while speaking with the Yarn Harlot. Her poised performance was in marked contrast to my stuttering and giggling when brought face to face with the reigning queen of knitting. It was all I could do not to genuflect and kiss her book-signing pen. MadMad generously included me in her dinner plans on Saturday night, which included dining with some other knitting royalty (Melissa Morgan of Melissa-Knits). That just added to the weird dream-like quality of the weekend.

I met my first male knitter, who was very personable and urged me to listen to his knitting podcast. He obviously doesn't read my blog, or he would know that I am not yet technologically advanced enough for podcasts. Someday, though...

And I haven't even mentioned WEBS yet. Where to start? The shelves full of patterns and books? The room full of looms? The piles and piles of yarn all begging to be stroked and touched? I was reminded of the archaeologist who first gazed into King Tut's tomb, opened after thousands of years. The person with him asked, "What do you see?" and all he could say was an awestruck "Wonderful things!"

Yes - wonderful things, indeed. And wonderful people. And a hotel room all to myself on Saturday night. I sat and knit in the blessed quiet, interrupted only by MadMad calling at 10 PM to report that she had just shared an elevator at her hotel with the Yarn Harlot herself. I was beside myself with jealousy.

I got up early the next morning (why? I don't know). It was so peaceful to shower, dress, and dry my hair without having to talk to anyone, or settle fights, or tell people to do things. I ate a yogurt and nobody cried. I sat down and knit for half an hour, just because I could. I enjoyed my solitude so much, I started to think about running away from home and joining a convent (preferably one that supported itself on the sale of handknitted items); but then I remembered that, alas, I am not Catholic. Do you think affirmative action might require the sisters to take a few Jews?

Anyway, I got a lot of knitting done over the weekend. I was proud of the progress I was making on Rachel's little vest, and I decided to finish up the back of it during the Yarn Harlot's talk Sunday afternoon. There was just enough light in the theater to knit by. There was also just enough light to realize that, somehow, I had totally messed up my knitting the night before (and I couldn't even blame the kids for distracting me). So, while Stephanie Pearl-McPhee waxed rhapsodic on the joys of knitting, I was busy ripping out every single bit of the work I had accomplished during the weekend. But I did it cheerfully, secure in the knowledge that I was sitting among a thousand other people who all, at one time or another, had had to do the same exact thing. Misery does love company, you know.

Alone Again...

Larry deserted me again to spend the weekend biking with David and his Boy Scout troop. At least he didn't have to drag David out of the house kicking and screaming like last time. I'd console myself for my loneliness by eating chocolate; but now that I have practically reached my goal weight (or, to put it more accurately, now that my goal weight has almost reached me), it seems foolish to set myself back with comfort eating. Plus, I want to pig out at Bunko on Monday night. So I will just have to knit instead. Maybe some crochet, too - for dessert.

Oooh...I wish I hadn't typed that word "dessert."

Anyway, Larry is atoning for all this spousal abandonment by agreeing to my suggestion that we drive all the way to Massachusetts to visit what is, apparently, the greatest yarn store ever (and, not so coincidentally, to hear the Yarn Harlot speak at this same store). I mean, I am going to the yarn store; he is going to keep the children amused by taking them to Sturbridge Village and whatever else he can think of to do in that area.

No expensive hotels for us, particularly as the clerks start citing fire codes and insisting that we reserve 2 rooms instead of one. Luckily, there is inexpensive military lodging nearby, which is much better, anyway. Mini kitchens, huge rooms with pull-out sofas, laundry facilities (because, really, what makes a vacation better than doing laundry - we wouldn't want me to go through withdrawal or anything over the weekend)...

Sad, isn't it, that I think of Air Force guest lodging in western Massachusetts as a resort stay? I think I need to get out more.

The very best part of this plan is that I will actually meet other knitting bloggers that I have become cyber-acquainted with over the past 6 months or so. Unfortunately, Anna heard me discussing this with Larry and said, "You're going to a strange place to see people you've met online? I thought we weren't supposed to do that."

Don't you hate it when teens are right? But what could a psychopathic knitting blogger do to me, anyway? Unravel the hat I'm knitting when I'm not looking? Handcuff me with extra-long circular needles and steal my Paton's felting wool? We're Yarn Harlot groupies, for heaven's sake; this will be more like going to a Grateful Dead concert than anything else - only we will all be wearing hand-knits rather than tie-dye, and none of us would waste our hemp by smoking it.




See? Everyone is smiling, nobody's getting hurt.







Or perhaps I'm rationalizing, and I am setting a bad example for my teenage daughter. But, determined as she is not to do anything that her totally embarrassing mother does, I do think this may be a win-win situation...

How To Get More Me-Time

I am loving this article. For those of you too lazy to click (and what is your problem, anyway?) , it talks about a recent spate of deaths among high-profile, posting-every-day bloggers. If you read the article (c'mon, click already!), however, you will notice a pattern: all the "victims" are men. Apparently, they can't handle the mental and physical stress of being on call 24/7.

Think about that for a minute. You don't see any Mommy bloggers dropping dead, do you? No, of course not; because we are used to those working conditions. Mental and physical stress, 24/7? That's our job description, for heaven's sake. So, gentlemen? My advice to you is, if you can't take the heat...

And speaking about not being able to take the heat, a lot of you are stressed out by the demands of being an Idle Parent. "I'd like to pay less attention to my kids, Suburban Correspondent, but I don't know how." That's what a lot of people are telling me (at least according to the voices in my head). So let me give you a few pointers on...

How to Get Your Children to Leave You Alone
(without resorting to screentime)
(because that's too easy, that's why; so quit whining and listen to me)

1. Hide in your bedroom closet (bring your knitting and a good book, of course); make sure to have a mini-fridge in there well-stocked with the libation of your choice and a bag of chocolate or two. Don't forget the Ott-Lite!
2. Announce to the kids that it is time to clean house and...and...hey! Where'd they go?! Works like magic...
3. Tell them you have hidden candy all over the house and they have to find it. This technique can buy you a lot of time; but it is not for the weak of heart, as the children tend to start crying when they (finally) realize you lied to them.
4. Send them outside to play; but remember to lock the door behind them. The little sneaks are always trying to get back inside, and they're not even bleeding! What's up with that, anyway?

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.

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 met. What is the world coming to? I asked self-righteously.

It's coming to this. I'm addicted to blogging. Every morning when I wake up, I promise myself that I will spend an entire day (well, until 9 PM, anyway) blogfree, focusing instead on my house and on my children. And every single morning, I fail to keep my promise. This disturbs me. If we were talking about alcohol rather than blogging, I'd be in a 12-step program by now.

So, tell me - how many blogs are on your reader? Or, for those of you semi-Luddites without a reader, how many blogs do you check each day?

[I did take my kids to the library today, in between blog posts - and I read to Rachel twice. I made dinner, too. So I don't think I have hit bottom yet. But it is a slippery slope.]

Easy Does It

There's a movement afoot to have people trying to blog every single day in 2008. I'm begging those of you I have on a reader - don't do it. I almost went nuts trying to keep up with everyone's postings in November. The pace was killing me. Just say no to Blog 365. Thank you.

We've all been in the position of our children not taking care of their little critters as they had promised. Check out this article on guinea pig cuisine for ideas on what to do when your kids get tired of their caged animals. The article uses the phrase "alternative food." Is that a euphemism, or what? Doesn't sound quite as harsh as "Hey, kids, we're eating your pets!"

Can you tell that nothing exciting happened in our household today? Essentially, I goofed off all day (though I did get a little knitting done). No one misbehaved. No one did anything cute (though we did have quite a ticklefest with Susie, whose giggling and screeching were exceedingly delightful). Larry and I went out to Chipotle's and split a burrito for dinner. We're big spenders, let me tell you. Then we went to the bookstore so that I could use the gift card he gave me.

That was my whole day. And I liked it. No preparing for guests, no shopping for presents. Whew. Christmas took its toll this year. I guess I am still in recovery mode. That should only take until, say, next September. And I am busy trying to eat all the chocolate Larry gave me. I need to polish it off before I head back to Weight Watcher's on the 6th. It may be fun this time, though, as there is some sort of weight loss ticker I can post on the blog. Nothing like showing the world how little self-control I possess.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to that chocolate.

Who Needs Sleep?

All my kids get croup. I blame Larry, who had it himself as a kid. (When all else fails, pin it on your husband.) Rachel is ensconced in the armchair under the open window now, breathing in the cold air and trying not to freeze to death. Susie is upstairs with the window open and what Larry calls the eucalyptus stink-bomb nightlight going full-blast in our room. Larry thinks he is going to sneak off to work tomorrow. Won't he be surprised to see those slashed tires on his van? (insert evil laugh here - I can't spell it) Not so fast, Mr. Croup Genes - your wife needs some sleep.

I feel as if I am in one of those sleep deprivation experiments. My brain feels foggy. This morning, at the Christmas party (which we made it to, amazingly enough), a woman I had just met asked me what Susie's middle name was, and I couldn't remember. I can't remember the woman's name either; but that doesn't matter, because I don't think she is going to talk to me again.

Of course, I could be doing something useful, like housework. Or knitting. But it's hard to settle down to doing something productive when you know you are supposed to be sleeping. So, I'm sitting here, mindlessly surfing mindless blogs ("I went to the dentist today. It hurt." "My 3-year-old drew a picture today. I hung it on the frig."). C'mon, people! Make something up if you have to. Just make sure it's amusing. I need a laugh. Don't you care?

What if famous people from history had had blogs? FDR, say?

Told Congress today that we weren't selling or giving away any war materials to the British, we're just leasing them.

(next day): Congress passed LendLease today. Suckers!

(one month later): Churchill wants to know why he isn't on my blogroll. Because he's not funny, that's why. I don't care if you're the king, for heaven's sakes; you have to be funny.

(one week later): Eleanor made me delete the entry where I said that she couldn't cook. What's the use of being the President of the United States if you can't blog what you want?

You know, I think I am going crazy. And now I've messed up the font for this post. Maybe I'll just go do that housecleaning after all. It sure isn't going to get done tomorrow.