Status Report Updates

News Flash: Larry returned the chair to IKEA this evening. I convinced him that he deserves a better recliner than the one we foolishly brought home. Those of you readers who are hitched know that this whole episode has cost me an untold number of marriage points. Fun note: the woman at the returns desk wanted to charge him 20 percent because the item wasn't in the packaging. He pointed out that the receipt says only to return item with original packaging and then dumped a pile of mangled cardboard and plastic wrap on her desk. A supervisor got involved. Larry won. Life is sweet.

Mice Caught: Zero. And they're well-fed.

Health Report: Poor. I was up with my own croup in the middle of the night. Now I am coughing like a TB patient. In fact, Larry may be bargaining on my imminent demise and simply hiding the chair in the back of his car until such time as he can bring it back in here unimpeded.

Friendships: Shaky. One friend tried to steal my daughter's babysitting services for tomorrow night, the night that Larry and I have been invited out to our first grown-up party in years. And don't tell me she doesn't mean anything sneaky, because she knows she's invited to the same party as us. Another friend is mad that I won't speak to her on the phone due to my painfully swollen vocal cords (although I can do a great Lauren Bacall imitation right now). Apparently, she has something really interesting to share; nevertheless, she refuses to e-mail me. She's retro that way.

On the up side, a third friend gave me some Christmas fudge today. It was delicious. That's right, it's all gone. Considering that I have to return to Weight Watcher's in less than 2 weeks, there's no point in saving it, now is there?

Rachel Mischief Status: Moderate. Larry took the younger 4 kids to a small aviation museum yesterday, where there was some sort of flight simulator that they could try. Rachel was the only one who managed to "fly" the plane, beating out both her older brothers and her father. We are once again making sure to hide our car keys.

Guest Readiness: Near zero. Nothing that a coat of paint in the living room, curtains (same room), a nice piece of art over the couch, and some glassware that actually matches couldn't solve, though. Larry has his work cut out for him. Imagine - if he were single, he'd be idling away his weekend skiing or some such nonsense. Good thing he has a wife to keep him busy.

Interior Decorating Progress: 2 steps forward, one step back. I now have 2 chairs that I like in the den (oh, beloved flowered Ektorp, how I've yearned for thee!), but I need to spend tomorrow moving them to all possible corners to see where they look best. Because I have nothing better to do. Frankly, I'm just so excited to finally have a den, that I cannot help obsessing like this. Larry does not understand.

Good-night, fellow bloggers! Be good, for goodness sake!

Sick, Sick, Sick

I'm baaaack! Can't get rid of me that easily, you know. I seem to have picked up whatever bug my kids have (without the sore throat, fortunately). I refused to come downstairs this morning and left Larry to deal with everything - the hungry kids, the tile guy, the toddler who pooped for the first time in 3 days (sorry, no pictures). Larry solved the hungry-kid dilemma handily, by letting them eat the candy canes they got from Santa last night. Way to go for a healthy breakfast!

Yes, we saw Santa himself yesterday evening. Our church had its annual Christmas pageant and party, and Anna plays in the ensemble, so we all went, even though half of us were sick and looked pathetic. Of course, if I had been a really good mother, I would have remembered to sign up the little kids to be angels and shepherds; but I guess that will have to wait until next year. The little disease-vectors would have coughed through the whole thing, anyway.

I dragged everyone to the library yesterday - I needed to return our way-overdue books before they put out a warrant for my arrest. I did my best to ensure a local croup epidemic by letting the little girls cough and sneeze all over the kids' section of the library. Then, because the tile guy was here (amazing, but true!), we headed out to Pizza Hut for lunch; they coughed and sneezed all over that place, too. I'm nothing if not thorough.

I fell apart sometime mid-afternoon, but pulled myself together enough to dress everyone for the party. I was hoping to be able to stay home with a sick child or two, but they all insisted on going. So I went, too, and had a pretty good time, while the kids scarfed down quantities of cookies and cake. You know, good nutrition doesn't seem to be job one around here lately.

Tile Guy is still here, working on the kitchen. Tomorrow, too. Which presents a problem in terms of food preparation and consumption. I guess we'll just have to get some more candy canes.

And I'm feeling like crap again - I'm going back to bed.

Knitting, The Best Medicine

The kids are still barking like seals here. I should put it on YouTube - "This is your kid on croup."

I managed to get some medicine from the doctor yesterday without having to go in to the office. Would you believe the receptionist tried to transfer my phone call to the advice nurse? I hung up and called the receptionist again and told her, "Honey, I don't need any advice. I have 6 kids, the youngest has croup, and she needs steroids. Tell the doctor." And she did. And he called in the prescription. Now that's power. (You need to have at least 4 kids in order to pull that off, though.)

And Larry did sneak off to work today. I overslept (that happens if you go to bed at 2 in the morning, you know) and earned the Bad Mother of the Year award by not getting up in time to wake Theo for his job (yes, I know he needs an alarm clock - we've bought gazillion alarm clocks and they all end up breaking). So he was late, but they didn't fire him - yet.

Now Larry is pulling apart my kitchen again (it's almost becoming a hobby for him, now isn't it?), because - get this - the tile guy is coming tomorrow. I'll believe that when I see it. The refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher are sitting in my dining room/living room, and the kitchen table and chairs are in the den. It's not really the decorating look that I like.

We're buying our Christmas tree this weekend. I had always had a hankering to do it the Norman Rockwell way, going out into the snowy woods of a tree farm and cutting down our own; but the one year we did that we froze our butts off, the tree sucked (as in, it was round and lopsided), and we paid a ridiculous amount for the privilege. So, this year, we're going to do the traditional thing: pile all the kids in the car, drive to Home Depot, tramp around in the slushy area next to the parking lot, and pick out a twenty-dollar, pre-cut tree.

Well, that's our tradition, anyway. And a darn good one it is, too.

I attended the local Stitch 'n' B*tch last night. We meet at a small restaurant and there were people getting up and coming over to stare at us, as though we were in some sort of knitting zoo. Or maybe they were just trying to see what we were drinking. We were getting a bit raucous.

But I'm telling you, nice as these knitters are, they scare me. The 2 women next to me were having a serious discussion about their spinning wheels and how to card wool, and a 3rd woman chimed in from further down the table. I was tempted to ask if they raise their own sheep, too; but I restrained myself. I'm still sort of new there.

No Anna stories tonight, folks - I'm doing my best to ignore her completely. Life's better that way. G'night!

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.

Sick and Tired

So, I missed posting yesterday. Sue me. Susie developed croup yesterday evening and blew all my finely laid plans to heck. Now I'm sitting here after a lousy night's sleep with a non-functioning brain, wondering how to pick up the pieces. Of my day, that is, not my brain - the brain's a total loss.

Let's see - it might help if I'd get dressed. And there was the Christmas party for our home school group that I am supposed to bring some food to. And I was supposed to bake cranberry bread for my husband's office party (you know, the party that spouses aren't invited to, but we are free to contribute baked goods and other yummy comestibles) (the hell with them).....

I could just blow everything off and lie on the couch all day (my favorite option), but Brian and Rachel are supposed to be in some little skit about St. Francis at the party (the home school party, not the office one). I think. The skit wasn't my idea. One of the other, more ambitious, moms dreamed it up. I'm hating her right now. If it weren't for the stupid skit, I could blow the whole thing off.

I hope I don't catch whatever Susie has. I am not a patient sufferer. I tend to languish - loudly. As in whine and complain. While the house falls apart around my ears. I can't wait until I am older (and, more to the point, the kids are older) and I can be sick for a day without utter chaos taking over my life. I'll be able to sit in an armchair by the fire, sipping hot tea and catching up on my reading (I mean, People comes out every single week, I can't keep up), rather than trying to referee sibling disagreements from the couch in the trashed living room and praying that no one shows up at our front door to witness just how bad our home life can become.

Speaking of which, I'd really better shower and dress. I'm just asking for trouble sitting at the computer in my pajamas at 8 in the morning. Then, I'll go back to bed. If you make your bed first, it doesn't count as being lazy, right?

Sleep Deprivation and Spousal Alienation

Well, I was going to take a day off today; but I've become addicted to watching the numbers on my sitemeter creep up after I post, and I just can't stop.

Today went fairly well, considering I had 3 hours of sleep last night (and not consecutive, either). David kept waking up barking, so I put on 2 coats and wrapped him in 3 blankets and opened the living room window and let him breathe in the blessedly cold, dry air. Larry came down at one point (no doubt motivated by my hissing at him, "How come I'm always the one getting up?") and, thinking that David needed a hat, placed his own rabbit-fur hat on David's cold head. This maneuver upset our little vegetarian very much, even though no flesh-eating was involved (on our parts, anyway). So we went with wool instead, the shearing of which (we assured David) in no way hurt the sheep, aside from perhaps leaving it a tad chilly in the evenings for a week or two. This conversation seemed a bit surreal at 2 in the morning, but we're used to things being rather weird around here.

So now I'm waiting for the rest of us to come down with the sore throat from hell just in time for our annual Chanukah party. Theo has cooked us up about 75 latkes, which better be enough, because I am sick of cleaning up the greasy post-frying mess. We've got the life-or-death homemade applesauce from last fall, the dreidels (an important detail - the year we spent in Rhode Island, I had to crash a Chanukah party at a local synagogue and beg for a dreidel), the pennies to gamble with, the candles, and the Chanukah napkins. Gotta have the Chanukah napkins. I would have splurged and gotten the plates also, but the stores were sold out. Hot item, those plates.

Maybe I should clean up the house, too. And paint some more gray stripes on the living room wall, just to confuse people. Larry went out and bought a non-returnable 5-gallon pail of the paint color we had tentatively (and I cannot stress tentatively enough here) agreed upon for the living room. And now the color (or at least the stripes of color) look not quite right to me. More blue than grey. Maybe a bit too light. I tried to express my misgivings to him, but all he could do was to shake his head and mutter something about 200 dollars.

So....I am going to shut my mouth and let him paint the whole stupid room with the wrong color and when he is not looking I am going to smear the color I want, the right color, the color that doesn't look blue, on top of it. Because trying to talk about this problem would not be good for our marriage. I am confident that Larry will eventually come around to the point of view that my happiness is worth a heck of a lot more than 200 lousy bucks.

I don't know how many years of marriage it takes to make 2 immature people grow up, but it is definitely more than 17.

Good night!