Little Rascals

More adorable kid stuff from this past month. On Sunday, this adorable niece of mine (just call her Darla) sweet-talked my boys into doing a (puppet) show with her. So here, live from Piano-Bench Theater, I bring you The Tale of the King, the Queen, and Three Wooden Spoons.

Pow!

And here is the handsome and talented Pirate Boy (did I mention he's 7 years old now?) getting his kicks on some grass that's way healthier than ours. (Yes, it is way too hot to wear that shirt outside. Luckily his pants are well air-conditioned.)

Pop!

Here we have Punkin Boy doing his impression of a baby dragon hatching out of its egg. I'm telling you, people, the amusement never ends.

Ahoy!

It's Pirate Boy's birthday, and the little rogue is now seven! Boy, that's going to take some getting used to. I have a ton to do today, as those of you with kids can imagine.

Plus! I have to do my entire month's edits before morning--huzzah! The project boss emailed me this morning to see what was up; she had this kind of worried tone. Well, yeah, I know I've got a lot of articles to edit before 7 a.m. tomorrow (like, 40). Now that I've written my 40 articles I can devote all my time to the editing. Be done by one. Ciao!

Well, it was something like that. By lunchtime, I had 16 done, and I've done another 6 since. (I took a break to bake a cake and run the kids around the...neighborhood. No lakes.) I will be done tonight. And I have some words for some of those writers...

Anyway, just thought I'd let you know I'm still alive. Love you all!

Easy Come, Easy Go

Yesterday, I was disappointed (to say the least) to learn that the contract for my second job fell through, so I won't be working that one after all. At least this time. They'll try again later. Sigh. I figured it must have been for the best, since I'm struggling just to get my minimum articles done now that the kids are home from school. "I guess I couldn't handle another job," I told myself.

Then this afternoon, the writing project boss called me up and asked, "Are you an editor? Would you like to be an editor for us?" Sweet! Yes and yes, I said. Apparently, the editing is easier and way faster than the writing (go figure), so the editors make pretty decent money. Awwriiighht!

Meanwhile, The Man (TM) is still working 2 jobs, one of which has him for, what, 14 hours just today. That makes my full-time job as a mom a lot more tiring. (Still could be worse--I'm not really a single parent, I keep reminding myself!)

I'm just about recovered from last weekend, with the visit of 8 of my wonderful relatives (including 2 of the cutest nieces anyone's ever had). And it turns out TM's parents will be arriving for a visit either tonight or tomorrow, depending on how fast Dad decides to drive. Whee!

Anybody got a spare nap on them?

WooHOO!

I got a job offer today! It would pay a lot more than I'm making now and be part time work from home. I told them heck yeah, I'm interested. Bring it on!

Getting Close

Look at that ticker. Four days left. Yikes! Actually, it's not that bad, now that I've gotten rid of the bleeding and most of the migraine hangover. I've gotten a sitter for my two cute little nieces for most of the day Saturday (and that's huge). Now I just need to find someone to watch my 3 sons between 9:30 and noon, and someone to bring them to the temple at 2:00. The Man (TM) and I have to be inside from 11:30 on, and yes, it does take a couple hours to get there.

The logistics are driving me crazy, but I think I've nearly got it figured out. My folks are flying in that day and meeting us there, my sisters are coming an hour after the rest of us, various guests may or may not attend (although that part is OK). I expect to be worried sick until everyone actually shows up, but I'm going to try to relax and trust in the Lord. He wants us there, so it will all work out, I'm sure.

The thing that bothers me most is #1 Son. Because he's got a different mother and because he hasn't been baptized, he doesn't get to be in the temple with us. His cousins who were going to spend that time with him aren't going to make it now, so he'll just be sitting by himself for a while, and it breaks my heart to think of how lonely that will feel. Maybe he'll just bring a book and shrug it off. I sort of hope so. But if not... how can we help him know he's a loved and wanted part of our family?

Too Tired

CNN reports: Work is wearing people out lately more than ever before. Who knew? (I did.)

You've Really Gotta Hear This

"Geeks in Love" is the new totally favorite song of The Man (TM) and me. Anybody else identify with this video? Makes me wanna dance. Lyrics provided below for your amusement and edification. #:)

Geeks In Love

Nobody's cool as we, nor quite as esoterically far out.
We're so far out it's creepy.
I don't think they'll ever get the groovy standards that we set for love,
but they're not smart like we be.

They have no roses.
Subconsciously they envy us a lot.
They look down their noses and see a couple of dorks with more love than they have got.

When they see us holding hands, they wish that they were geeks in love.
And when they hear our favorite bands, they wish that they were geeks in love.
We rattle off our in-jokes while they wish that they were geeks in love.
And while we make each other smile, they wish that they were geeks in...

La la la,
la la la,
la-lubbidy-da-diddy-love.
La la la,
la la la,
ka-boominy-woah-nelly-love. [Edit: As much as I love this one, it's really "walnutty"]
La la la,
la la la,
ga-shibbidy-waffles-and-love.
La la la,
la la la la love.

As far as I can tell, while other lovers go through hell,
we'll know we're too cool for damnation.
We may not be cutting edge, but we won't take the mainstream pledge,
for we don't need your admiration.

They may not show it.
It doesn't fit their made-up little roles.
They don't even know it, but jealousy abounds within their souls.

When they see us on the street, they wish that they were geeks in love.
And when they hear us trick or treat, they wish that they were geeks in love.
As we lock arms and skip away, they wish that they were geeks in love.
And you can almost hear them say they wish that they were geeks in...

La la la,
la la la,
la-lubbidy-do-diddy-love.
La la la,
la la la,
fa-doobidy-ding-dong-love.
La la la,
la la la,
za-muppety-puppety-love.
La la la,
la la la,
sha-peppity-bismol-love.
La la la,
la la la,
a-bubbly-lava-lamp-love.
La la la,
la la la,
ma-spockity-nimoy-love.
La la la,
la la la,
da-ponkity-ponkity-love.
La la la,
la la la,
geekity-geekity-geeks in love.

Materi i Deti

(For those of you who don't know, that's a pun on a famous Russian story; it's probably too obscure for everyone except Kory, but I needed to do it.)

Tomorrow (oh wait, it's today) is Punkin Boy's birthday. I love that it falls close to Mother's Day; I did that on purpose. This weekend we've got big plans for our big 4-year-old. The Man (TM) has to work in the evening and #1 Son had to go to Hell of course, but we're going to make it fun anyway.

I've already exchanged greetings from some of my friends and relations, including this little item from a former coworker who was like a mother to me:

...
This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college. This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them. This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love-- sometimes totally unappreciated! ((Sometimes??))
...
For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely. This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. To put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. When you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

And then there was this, which I happened across just as I was about to log off tonight. A little girl who was born on the same day as Punkin Boy is NOT having a good birthday. And as for her parents... my heart aches for all of them. Keep them in your prayers, OK? Thanks.

I Just Want to Say

I love the smell of lilacs in the morning! (And every other time of day.)

Not too fond of having migraines every day, or of having multiple periods a month.

I guess I take the good with the bad.

More Goodness

Just wanted to share some more loveliness that has come our way. First, The Man (TM) got that other job at school (Web development) and was offered another one at the library. How nice to feel able to turn stuff down!

Also, that haircutting school called the other day to ask if anyone at our house wanted a free haircut this week. *waves arm in air, shouting "I do! I do!"* Totally. So today, Pirate Boy and I spent an hour getting our locks lopped. Yes, an entire hour. We have kind of a lot of hair, as every stylist who's worked on us has to remark. Oh, what a relief not to have 80 pounds of hair dragging down my back anymore!

The most wonderful thing so far this week is (fanfare, please): my lilac bushes are blooming for the first time since I planted them! Yes, they are older than Punkin Boy. Yes, they were blooming when I planted them. No, I don't know what their problem was. But they're beautiful now, and I am so going out there and cutting some tomorrow.

Oh, yes, and my kids didn't make my breakfast today. What? Yes, that is a good thing. See, they usually pour the milk and then forget to wake me up... (It must be good, I wolf it down so fast, right?) I love those little monkeys.

Little By Little, We're Getting There

I haven't been around much lately because The Man (TM) has been gone a lot. The good news is that he's been working. Yes, as in at a job. He can't believe his luck to be chosen as a professional A/V geek for his school. OK, it doesn't pay hugely and it's not full-time, but it's a long-term income, and that's a major thing we've been lacking for, oh, the last 19 months or so. Yay, money!

With the kids home from school the past several days, I've had my hands full, and with TM gone so much, it's been kind of a challenge to survive each day. But I'm managing, which is only attributable to the power of prayer; I couldn't do it alone. Now TM is interviewing for a Web programmer job (also for the school), which also won't pay much but will give him experience, and with graduation only a year away (we HOPE), that will be key.

OK, now here's the news I've been brimming over with: I got a contract as a freelance writer, starting immediately! They're even going to pay me for my "audition" piece. Sweet! (Such a relief-- I was beginning to think I'd never work again, after several months without a contract.)

And best news of all, we got our date: May 26 at 3 in the afternoon, we become an eternal family. Go us!

Mysterious Ways

I just want to share with you the latest evidence I have that God knows everything and loves each of us. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering that, especially that last part. The problem is that I don't know everything, at least not ahead of time. Well, today I learned something. Let me tell you a story.

The Man (TM) and I have been trying for several months to get things together for a special, important event that we were hoping would happen this weekend. The kids have a long weekend, it's between semesters for my brothers-in-law and before finals for TM... and it's late enough in the season that the weather should have been perfect for driving through the mountains. It was just the right time to have our--well, our second wedding. For all we knew, it was.

But things kept getting in the way. People who should have been helping us kept... forgetting or something. Nobody could do this or that, and pretty soon it was just too late. We'd have to wait a few weeks. Well, it was disappointing. I cried and I fumed. It wasn't supposed to be like this. See how mature I am. Pooh.

But this morning at 6:15 when the radio alarm went off and the weather announcer said the words "avalanche danger in the mountains," I suddenly understood. And I'm so grateful that my will isn't always the one done. Oh, I have so far to go.

Hold That Thought

The weather here lately has reminded me of the line Jim Carrey (as The Riddler) delivers in Batman Forever to Two-Face (Tommy Lee Jones):

"Not many people are both a summer and a winter, but you pull it off nicely."

(Just as a little aside, did you recognize Drew Barrymore in that scene? Neither did I.)

Starting to lose consciousness again... No, wait, take a look at this.

Well, At Least We're Not Broke...

Forgive me while I giggle like a drunk with nothing left to lose. I'm about tapped out on patience and endurance at the moment. This weekend I cried so much that my eyelids looked like Easter eggs and felt like they were being boiled from the inside out. And that was just the first day. The second day I got worse. Then things got bad. Hee. (hic)

Can it be Migraine Week again already? I think so. The Man (TM) has a huge project due at school in less than 24 hours, so he didn't come home last night until after 11, and it's going to happen again tonight. The kids were pretty good; I shouldn't complain. I just get tired. Tomorrow night we've got stuff going on, and Thursday night we have conflicting stuff and Friday #1 Son goes off to Hell again-- no family time this week. You might think that was the least of my worries.

On the bright side, poopy underwear doesn't seem all that bad set against that background. And my husband still loves me after all.

Spring Concert

My little Pirate Boy is growing up so handsome and talented. Wow. (It worked!)

My World (If I Recall Correctly)

Hmm... I know I'm still alive, and even more, that I've had ideas about what to blog lately. (I even had a great idea for changing the tag for the comments, but heck if I can remember it now.) So I guess what we can say about this week is that my memory is still fading. But let's see what else I can remember.

I remember all too well that Pirate Boy had a concert last night and I missed it. I started feeling sick before dinner, and The Man (TM) asked if I thought I'd be going to the concert. "I'm going if it kills me," I replied. But then Punkin Boy fell asleep and late afternoon naps make him wake up screaming. In a nutshell, when it was nearly time to leave, he and I were both curled up on my bed in no condition to go anywhere. Heck, Pirate Boy was barely ready to go. Curses. But I got TM to take the digital camera and get some pictures for me, so that was a happy thing. They even turned out well. Now if Picasa would only work for me...

Let's see, what else? Oh yes, I remember that I was sick Wednesday morning, too. I know because it was the morning of my writers group, and I didn't go to that, either. I find myself not even caring anymore about it, which makes me feel kind of sad. I remember that TM was gone until after midnight a couple of nights this week, which makes me feel very tired. Easter turned out well for the kids, thanks to some kind presents and cards from other people, including my wonderful parents. This makes me feel grateful.

And on a lighter note, Punkin Boy is continuing his studies of animals in the insect kingdom. We recently found a website called "Pestworld for Kids," which has some really fun learning games and animations. The younger kids love it. So Punkin Boy has been playing "pest detective" and "pest ranger" a lot this week. One thing I want to remember happened yesterday. He came running up to me, panting with excitement and said, "Mama! Happy news! I get to see the spiders again!" Oh the thrill of it all. Oh to be 3 again.

Oh Yeah

Forgot to mention: Easter weekend, second week of April, right? And it's snowing. Again.

It did this the first year we were in this state, too, but not since then, I think. Can it really have been 8 whole years? Yep, almost to the day. I've never lived anywhere else for 8 consecutive years. I'm not sure we intended to be here that long, but here we still are, and here we'll stay until the Evil One's grip is loosed from us. (Maybe another 6 years.)

Sigh. Hey, maybe I'll luck out and die first. Whew!

Things You Don't Want to Hear...

...your hairstylist say:

"Woohoo! My third haircut!"

Actually, it wasn't too bad. And it wasn't my hair; it was Punkin Boy's. He hadn't had a hair cut since Labor Day and looked like a pretty little red-haired girl. We took him this week to get it cut at a local haircutting school. (Free haircuts are hard to turn down in our circumstances.) Fortunately, the schoolmarm came around to check the guy's work and trimmed the rough edges up. And Punkin is very pleased to be able to see now.

"I needed to do a long-hair style!"

This was from the stylist who worked on The Man's hair. He hadn't had a trim for just as long and was very shaggy. We were hoping to get him looking a little more clean-cut, but that was not to be. (Apparently, beggars can in fact not be choosers in this situation.) His first comment when we walked out of the salon (actually, the kids and I were kicked out earlier for being distracting; beggars can also be abused at will) had to do with Alan Rickman in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, so you can figure for yourself how long it still is. Sigh. Still, I'm thankful for free haircuts. And I hope someday to have a different kind.

I Just Want to Say

I love my family. I especially want to say how much I love and appreciate and admire my parents. They not only raised us 4 kids under somewhat trying conditions and over 30 years, they've not only been through some serious hell because of what certain of their children did, but they keep at it. They keep parenting, and not just grandparenting.

Don't get me wrong, I love their grandparenting-- I wish they got to do more of it close up, but retirement's right around the corner. Punkin Boy got to talk to my mom this week; it was so great to watch and listen to. She went from "OK, I've got to get back to work now" (don't think she goofs off at the office; this was her lunch hour!) to "Ooh, I get to talk to my grandbaby!" in 0.6 seconds. Totally cute.

/aside
Anyway, I've been really appreciating my folks lately. They don't push or interfere, but they do kind, considerate things in gentle, loving ways. My dad sends me news articles he thinks I'll find interesting and asks my opinion on international issues; with The Man (TM), he discusses computer tech and new gadgets; with Little Sis's husband, it's all about fishing and the outdoors. Among other things, my mom sends ideas for family nights and makes sure we have the church resources we need. (And the financial resources; thanks so much, Mother.)

One recent email of hers was addressed: "To my daughters." I was touched to see on it the email addresses of not only me and my little sisters (her daughters by blood) or even us and my brother's current wife (a daughter by marriage), but also the address of my brother's former wife, whom I love more than life itself, or at least more than Rocky Road ice cream. This little reminder brought tears to my eyes as I thought of what most people would do once their former in-law remarries and moves on in life.

I also reflect on how differently many of those in-laws would treat the former spouse's family. But that sister of mine has taken a page (actually, several chapters) out of the book of Ruth. In her interactions with our family, her obvious and deep respect for my parents echo with the words: "Intreat me not to leave thee... the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me." May she be just as blessed as that lady was. I know I am blessed to have her in my life.

News Flash

Due to the current diaper shortage (at our house), Punkin Boy has attained the glorious status of... (fanfare, please):

POTTY TRAINED BOY!

(I'll still call him Punkin, though.) Now back to your regularly scheduled program.

Oy Vey

If anyone's still out there, you've certainly noticed that my posts have slowed down quite a bit. That usually happens during migraine week, which was worse than usual this month, plus I had a cold. But a lot of it is just me being totally and utterly exhausted.

The pain is still there, still exhausting, but that's not why I keep finding myself face-down, half-conscious, with nightmarish visions flitting through my head of myself committing outrageous crimes. Not entirely, I think.

See, I'm caught in this bizarre situation in which a crazy person (also known as the forces of hell) keeps attacking me and my family and now our religious beliefs. Which is not that unusual, you might think, but it's quite a dilemma trying to figure out how to deal appropriately with someone who insists, beyond all reason or evidence, that you, your family, and your whole church are not in fact Christian, as you claim to be.

I mean, what's the Christian response to that? I'll tell you what my instinctive response is, though I've never used it: "Don't be stupid." Seriously, who would know better whether I worship and revere Jesus Christ as the savior of the world and more particularly of me, too? Who knows more about my church, someone who's once heard a lecture by someone who opposes my church, or me, a 6th-generation member of it? Where can you find the best evidence? This answer sounds scornful, and I feel that way. I wonder how anyone can be so insane.

But that's not what I say. I wish I didn't have to say anything; I wouldn't if it was just some jerk talking to me. I'd try to politely correct the misconception, but I'd just have to let it drop, because people who say these things don't want to be corrected. And this is what The Man did the other night when he was talking to Satan Herself about the possibility of #1 Son being baptized. Despite her ravings, he was very controlled and polite as he tried to present evidence that our church does in fact believe in Jesus as the son of God and Savior of the world. We know she won't take my word for it that it's raining when she can feel the drops, but she might have accepted something he said. But no. Her response was that her information was true, but it wasn't known to anyone so "low down" in the church. Only those "high up" were in on the secret.

Here, the rude part of me wanted to roll its eyes and say "Oh. What. Ever." But that would be taken as agreement. Anyway, it's like that. She insists that #1 Son will go straight to hell if he should ever take such a drastic step as to be baptized, and she tells him so in no uncertain terms. (I won't even bother describing the desire to roll eyes and be sarcastic here. It will have occurred to you already.) And after 4 years of this, it's no wonder the boy won't admit to even the desire anymore. (See also TM's blog entry.) It's depressing. But my husband is so full of faith, he's not giving up, so I am trying to hang on to the hope, too.

But I'm so tired...

Who Are You

Thanks to Kailani and Carmen for this interesting little meme....

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Hanging Out, Hanging On

Hmmm, I thought I'd posted more recently than last week. Ah, must have been the post for my writers group. Nevermind.

It's been spring break for my gang, so I've been alternately busy and relaxing (read: unconscious). Plus, it's been Migraine Week for me, so I've stayed away from the computer more than usual. (Though I had a good chat with Wendy Darling this week; hi, Wendy!)

Anyway, it's been a pretty good week for the family overall. Our VA money came through and we were able to put our bank account right and pay our car payment for the month. (Whew! Another miracle comes through at the last second!) The weather's been wonderful--mostly warm and sunny, with patches of cool rain that felt so refreshing. The Man (TM) took the kids to the library twice this week, and we rented and watched a total of 9 Shakespeare plays. (Punkin Boy especially likes "The Taming of the Shrew"-- I think because it was done by puppets; what're you going to do?)

And that's about it. Our break is over; the boys go back to school Monday, and we'll be getting their grades soon. So stay tuned; I feel sure the drama will return.

Need a Break

Locked in battle with the forces of evil. Still. Expecting a court summons any day. Our pediatrician has recommended medication that might help #1 Son concentrate better and do better in school. The Evil One of course is having fits about it. The Man (TM) must be lying; the doctor must be insane; we're just doing this to cause trouble for her (I don't know how); she is opposed to all medication for the boy; an acquaintance of hers says of course #1 Son doesn't have ADD or ADHD and so doesn't need medication; we need to let him come live with her because we can't take care of him, etc., etc., ditto ditto... She says we just need to change his diet to a low-carb/high protein thing. (Oh, like the one we had him on last year in hopes of fixing this very problem-- the one you insisted he didn't need to be on as soon as he went to your house for his summer break? That diet? Sure, yeah. As soon as it's your idea, you like it.)

Have no money still, but may have fixed the problem with the overdraft. Well, as soon as the check arrives on the east coast. Will need enough money to pay for our car in less than a week, but unless the IRS is really fast, that's not happening. The VA is 2 months behind on its G.I. Bill payments, and who cares? Well, besides us. They don't seem to. It would surely help if they got caught up.

Well, our house is still mostly clean, anyway, despite the best efforts of our two youngest kids. (Did you really, truly have to use the bathroom trash can as a toilet? Did you? No, I thought not.) And we've embarked upon spring break, so maybe there'll be some rest for the weary along the way. I'll keep you posted.

Opposition in All Things

Whew, I feel wrung out. Those who are a bit familiar with the ongoing dramas in our life might think that every now and again I'd look at what we've been through recently and think Wow, how did we get through that? It'd only make sense. Except what I really do is look back on the past month or so and think, Ha! I thought that challenge was hard!

I was having that thought just a few days ago and remarked to someone that whenever I read my journal, I have to laugh at what I thought was a rough patch, 'cause this, now this that I'm going through is tough. Ha! Fortunately, the blessings are compensatory.

Let me tell you about my week. Sunday morning I got up to get breakfast for the kids and noticed that there was water leaking from our freezer. OK, not a good sign. I pulled open the fridge and discovered that someone (probably under 5 feet tall) had turned the controls all the way to zero-- that is, turned our fridge and freezer off. I investigated further and realized that it had probably been done the night before. And there we were, a week's worth of groceries, gone just like that: POOF. Remember last year when I was bummed about having the milk go bad a couple days before we could get more? Ha! And last year, we could afford to replace a gallon of milk.

But in opposition to this trial, our lovely church leaders got together and bought us all new food, even more than we'd had before. But wait, there's more!

This morning, Punkin Boy was complaining of a pain in his leg and cried when he tried to walk. The Man (TM) had woken up late and had 15 minutes to get everyone out the door to school. After he left, I was worrying about how I would get Punkin Boy to the doctor if his leg got any worse, when a sweet sister from church called up and asked if it would be OK if she and a couple of others came over and cleaned my house for me. I asked if she'd be able to drive us to the doctor-- of course, she said. My house is now cleaner than it's been in 2 years. I feel so good about that, and Punkin Boy was up running around by lunchtime. Whew.

Now we've got this other thing. In today's mail, we got an overdraft notice; TM's credit card payment came from an account that couldn't afford it. The bank is in another state, so even if we had any money, we couldn't get it there quickly. Once again, I'm having to look for a miracle. But I think I've figured out the lesson I'm supposed to be learning from this particular phase of my mortal experience: Don't put my trust in the arm of flesh. Just when you think you know it all...

Read It and Eat It

I was interested to see this article on CNN.com today. My dear sister has had some problems with this program in the past, and her objections (as I recall) were similar to the ones stated at the end of the article. I don't have a problem just picking up one free take-out pizza (although they hate when you do that) but I'd like to be able to afford to make it a family outing. And there you go; the company succeeds in its aims.

I notice, rather sadly, that there were no statistics quoted in the article for how many coupons were actually redeemed from this program. I bet they could even give details about how much money each coupon transaction brought in. That data would surely be enlightening. Let's see, 22 million x 700 calories per pizza...

So, come on and weigh in: Where do you stand on the issue of bribing kids with fatty foods so they'll read? (Did I just give my position away? Nuts!)

[Edited: I checked Pizza Hut's nutritional info and was interested to see that I wasn't exaggerating much with my estimate. A plain pepperoni personal pizza has 640 calories and 29 grams of cheesy fat. Don't get me started about the 1530 mg of sodium; I think I'm gonna throw up. It's tasty all right, but... gack.]

Don't Call Us

Our desktop computer is on the fritz tonight, so I'm just popping onto the laptop for a moment to give an update about the disability situation, which various people have been asking about. The facts are these:

About a month ago, I received a letter--dated a month previously-- saying that they had received the packet of information I sent to them a month before that (i.e., before Thanksgiving). They say they'll schedule a hearing and be in touch. Yeah.

Drama King

I don't even remember how I was going to tell you about what's been going on with us, but it seemed pretty important that I should about 2 hours ago. At that time, I was still feeling pretty hurt and angry about what #1 Son had done a little earlier in the evening. Let me see if I can get my head sorted out.

Well first, he got his, what is it-- sixth discipline referral at school yesterday. This time, at least, it wasn't for blowing off his homework (though he's still about a month behind). It was for using an emergency exit to get to the playground faster than usual. He swears he didn't know (or notice) that it wasn't a regular door, though he'd noticed that nobody else ever went through it. I suppose he thinks he's a real adventurer or something, doing what nobody else does. Much as I appreciate that sentiment, I wish he'd march to his "different drummer" some other time or place.

The overdue homework/classwork is still piling up, and he still doesn't seem to care, though he could do it if he wanted to. This is the part that about half a dozen people are ready to smack him for. I suppose it's just his way of getting attention, but my gosh. Failing 6th grade for that? Running the risk of expulsion, for crying out loud? Can't you get attention in a better way? Doing good or, say, favorably impressive things, for instance? We'd be so happy if he'd, well, do his homework first and then, oh, get involved in music or drama or something. Something.

Instead, he tries to get out of being yelled at by his mother by telling her that I wouldn't let him do his homework on the weekend. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that even she didn't believe this kind of lie. She talked to The Man (TM) for a while, then had him put the call on speaker phone so she could talk to all of us at once. #1 Son repeated his story that I had prevented him from doing his homework. That, I have to say, took a lot of gall. The fact was that I'd tried to get him to do his homework on Saturday so he wouldn't have to do it on Sunday.

Maybe he was confused. Maybe. But probably he was mad that I'd taken away the fantasy book that he'd been reading instead of doing his homework. And given past experience, he had a good chance of pulling this one off. But even his mommy dearest has given up believing his stories, after hearing them one or two too many times. She yelled at him even more because of it. And I wasn't feeling too much like helping him with his essay this evening as I'd planned to do. I couldn't stifle my anger for long enough, I hate to admit. What an unfair and unwise thing to do! was all I could think.

I'd like to say that this would open a new chapter in the relations between the parental units, but no. Instead, she angles to have #1 Son live with her "for a year" (uh huh, like we'd ever see him again) because our brand of parenting is obviously failing him. Never mind that hers has been a "drop-in" kind of parenting for the last 10 or so years. His troubles have become just another lever in her campaign to pry him away from our family. Sigh.

Highway to Where?

This travel article is pretty good, but the headline is just wrong. I'm not saying anything against the town of Hana, because it's a lovely place. But the road that takes you up there... I would never ever call it a "Highway to Heaven." Quite the contrary. The result of a recent poll of people in this room (i.e., me and The Man) clearly shows the correct term would be something like "hellish." Granted, we experienced this road together, so we had the same trip to the Underworld, but think about this: other people who'd been there told us that driving a rental car up the road to Hana would void our rental agreement. That's not a good sign, in my book.

We didn't even intend to go to Hana on that trip, but I got mixed up and turned east when I should have gone west. By the time I realized what I'd done, there was no place to turn the car around. We drove that whole 52 miles up the winding narrow cliff road as the sun went down and rude mainlanders whizzed back at us (in many cases, cursing loudly and shaking their fists). I'd say it was the most nerve-wracking couple of hours I'd ever had, but the trip up was nothing compared to the trip down.

I wished we'd had the time (or resources) to stay the night, but our stuff was waiting for us across the island at the Royal Lahaina. Night had fallen and boy, we city folk know nothing about how dark night can be until we experience it in someplace as remote as this. I was terrified to try to drive that same road in the dark; at least on the way up, you're on the inside lane. One wrong move on the trip down, and you won't be returning that rental car-- ever. So we decided to try the road that led out the opposite side of Hana town. The map didn't say exactly what kind of road it was or what exactly it passed through, but we could tell it wasn't on a cliff.

No, it wasn't on a cliff. It went right out through the middle of a never-ending sugar cane field. In the absolute pitch black. In a Dodge Neon. Now, lest you think that's not too bad, and maybe even a little romantic, let me describe sugar-cane roads for you. If I just mention that they're rutted dirt roads that pass right through the middle of vast fields of cane, nothing but tall stalks for miles and miles, you just won't get it. I asked The Man (TM) for his opinion on them, and he shuddered. "Don't drive on them!" was all he could muster. They don't look as evil as they really are, jolting (as it seems) your entire vehicle to pieces no matter how slow you go, and never ever ending...

That was bad enough. But then this enormous beast came roaring at us out of nowhere. After the first second of terror, I realized that it wasn't a gigantic dragon with glowing eyes. In fact, it probably had a name like "Chevrolet" printed somewhere on it, but compared to our tiny rental, this monster truck was enormous. And it was going fast. Our headlights were on, so I'm sure it could see us; nothing else was lit for miles around. The road was narrow, so I pulled the little Neon as close to the side as I could and slowed almost to a stop before the beast attacked-- it did! It lunged at our little car, scraping the paint and taking our side mirror with it as it fled into the night.

I was still shaking as I pulled our little car into a restaurant parking lot in Lahaina. I had never been so glad to see asphalt and artificial illumination. Of course, the restaurant by this time was about to close, along with all other eateries on Maui, so we crawled back to our hotel, battered and traumatized, and went to sleep hungry. Remind me sometime, and I'll write about the rest of our miserable trip. 'Cause it didn't get any better from there. No, I don't remember Maui with fondness at all, and The Man-- he hates it. Highway to heaven indeed.

Then and Now, Part 2

Man, that list looks nothing like I wanted it to. Reason #1 should have been on the list: my brain has been eaten by Percocet. I used to be intelligent, but no more. Other things that should have been on the list but aren't:

• I used to have short curly hair; now it's long and straight because I can't afford an appointment with a hairdresser. (And here I'm including Fantastic Sam. Oy.)
• I used to be able to count on getting a shower every morning. Now, not really.
• I used to be able to get down on the floor and play with my kids. I don't remember the last time I could do that.
• I used to have daycare and occasional evening babysitting so that I could feel like a human being and even go out with my husband every so often. Now: no.
• I used to be able to drive. Heck, I'd been driving since 1984. Currently, my brain is permanently in a low-functioning state as if I'd been drinking alcohol. Only worse. No driving for me.
• I used to be able to buy things I didn't absolutely need. Like lunch meat, pickles, makeup, books, and presents for the kids.

On the other hand, my family is eating better than we did when I was the breadwinner. The welfare food is plain and simple, but a lot of it is very good, and I never got to have ham or roast beef while I was paying for it myself. Also, two years ago, I had no real hope that my family would be together forever. Now I do, even if I have to fight for it every inch of the way. And two years ago, I was fed up with the schools here and was desperate to move away. Now our older kids are in the best school in the state, and Punkin Boy is primed and ready to join them.

So it ain't all bad.

Thursday 13: Then and Now

A couple of weeks ago, someone asked me whether I ever think about what I used to be able to do before I got hurt (2 years ago), as compared to what I can do now. Do I ever? Do I ever! Do I ever stop, that's really the question. But those of you who weren't here for my first month of blogging don't necessarily realize how things have changed in the way I live. So without further ado, I give you Thirteen Things that are Different Now about SCONE I am now in pain most of each day, mostly because of the back injury. I am now addicted to painkillers because of the pain. I cannot bend over or lift my children without hurting myself very badly. I cannot do basic household chores such as laundry, sweeping, vacuuming, or picking up toys off the floor without hurting myself to varying degrees. On the other hand, I now realize how many household chores require bending or lifting. (Most of them.) I am now responsible for getting the household chores done because I am now the one who's home with the Punkin during the day. I am home during the day because I lost my job in September 2005. Because I lost my job, we no longer have a source of income that is enough to support our family, nor do we have health insurance. Because we don't have a sufficient income or health insurance, a psychopath (my husband's ex-) keeps reporting us for bad parenting to the Social Services people. Because of the persecution of the psychopath, my stress level has increased. Because my stress level is so high, I'm having more health problems. Because of more health problems, I need lots of medications, but because I have no insurance, we end up spending huge amounts of our tiny income on them. Did I mention the STRESS? Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

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Oh Bother

I'm irritable tonight. I spent my day half-conscious and in pain. When my kids and husband came home, I had about one hour of "feeling OK" time. Then I started coming unraveled. I got cranky at my family at dinner, and I can't seem to pull out of it. Each one of the kids was doing something that needed dealing with at the same time, I was starting to get a migraine, and in the middle of it all, The Man was trying to engage my attention in a lecture about Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. I rather cynically observed that I wished I could be the college student. At that moment, I was serious. I was frustrated, I was angry, and I was just tired. I sat there with tears quietly running down my face, biting my tongue so I wouldn't say anything else. Except then #1 Son asked if he could have his fifth or sixth pancake and the words, "Sure, eat till you burst, see what I care" slipped out.

Gad. Who left me in charge of children? I've had these very long days (as opposed to the regular long days) for at least two weeks now, and I'm worn out. We're running low on food and money. I'm just worried. The job description for "full-time mom" includes, I'm sure, the fact that full-time means you work never-ending 24-hour shifts and you never ever get breaks, but somebody always forgets to mention that when you sign on. I love these punkins, I really do; I just wish I could get away from taking care of them once in a while.

So now I'm feeling guilty, TM never even joined us for dinner, the kids are misbehaving even worse, everything's rotten, and it's all my fault. Sigh... Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.

Hahaha haahahahaha ha ha ha ha. Ha.

Unbelievable

Or is it? It seems almost too easy...

What do I mean? This guy. What the... well, hell?

Amazing Discoveries

The Man (TM) and I did our taxes this weekend, which is a little late in the year for us. Usually, we do them as soon as all the tax documents come in because we get a huge refund. Last year, I think we had 7 grand in taxable income, and we got back a few thousand dollars as a refund, even though we didn't pay much of anything in taxes. Between the child tax credit, the education credit, earned income credit, and who knows what all, we end up rolling in the dough. Usually.

I don't know what the deal is with the tax code this year (and I'm searching the IRS's Web site trying to find out), but they apparently fixed that "extra credit" loophole. Which is to say, once you end up with enough credits to keep you from having to pay anything, you have to stop. And I learned another interesting about taxes: my freelance work counts as a "business," which is separate from "wages from employment" (which of course I don't have anymore). Anyway, it's not a normal source of income for personal income taxes, SO.... I ended up owing a thousand dollars on the six thousand I earned this way. Holy crud.

So the upshot of our interesting learning adventures of this weekend was that we're sucking wind. Just when we need the money, we're not getting much (although yes, we are getting some-- anybody with negative twenty-odd thousand in taxable income ought to get something). But we're still surviving. And that in itself is a miracle.

More of the Same

Anybody know who buys kids for the circus? Anybody? Sheesh. It's been one of those... months. Today both our school kids came home with notes from their teachers. "Pirate Boy has failed to bring his reading book three times in the past week." To which I want to reply, "What? He actually brought it at all? 'Cause I haven't seen it more than once in two weeks!" It's been maddening. Also, "#1 Son again failed to turn in a major writing assignment. He was eating cookies in Latin class and he was drawing when he was supposed to be doing an essay." That's just today. This being the fifth offense this year, he's supposed to be suspended for two days. But he says it's not going to happen. He says the Vice Principal told him he'll get a different punishment. But we really can't trust him these days. (Case in point, he pretended he was going to take a bath tonight and just skipped out on it. Again.) I'm so fed up. He just finished his week of detention today. Now this happens...

And I'm wondering if having his schedule messed up is what's making Pirate Boy so flighty lately. After all, when his big brother has to stay after school for a couple of hours, he can't go home either, which isn't fair. He was supposed to get to spend fun "together time" with his dad as compensation, but they mostly ended up running around the college trying to get homework done, so Pirate Boy has come home exhausted and fed up every day. Today he had about half an hour of "free" time (or so I thought), so I let him play a computer game after his bath. At bedtime, I remembered that he hadn't finished (or even started) this project he's supposed to turn in tomorrow. That's going to produce another note. He's supposed to bring money for his field trip tomorrow, but I suspect that's going to fall through the cracks, too. If I don't do the remembering, it doesn't get remembered at our house. (Anybody else out there have this problem?) And lately, I don't remember much.

Oy, so I'm a bad mother again. Well, let's stop assigning blame and work out what to do. Frankly, I don't know. There's a school that specializes in the arts not too far from their current school. In the past, we've used it as a threat to keep #1 Son in line. He says he wants to focus on science and math, but what he does is music and art. And he's good at art, he really is. He learns better in a visual medium, and I hear this school is really good for that. In fact, I think it would be a great place for him. But he doesn't want to go there. He's being threatened with failing sixth grade, and all he cares about today is that if he left this school, he'd lose the karate instruction. I strongly recommended that he start doing something about his other classes, then, and he ran off crying. Oy. Again, a bad mother.

Speaking of which, I made him call his mother and tell her about this one. (I have to do this because The Man (TM) is at the Homeowners' Association board meeting tonight. He's been elected, heaven help us, and he's trying to participate. But I digress.) Let me just say that she was not happy at all with her pride and joy tonight. Guess those affirmations aren't working, eh? Taking suggestions, though, on what might work instead.

Acts of Love

After my self-absorbed rant of this morning, I realized I needed to do some repenting. I'd overreacted to something that, yes, did make my day less pleasant and did do the opposite of what I'd hoped to have going on, but my reaction made the day less pleasant for my family, and I felt terrible. I'm tough; I'll get over it. My sweet boys, though (and here I'm including my husband), they take everything to heart. I had to find a way to show my love.

Well, I went through the pantry and the fridge, wondering whether I could find something special to fix for dinner. (The stomach, being, of course, the most direct route to their hearts.) I started to believe that I didn't really have anything at all to fix, much less something special. Oh bother. I took something out of the freezer, but that won't be ready for another day or so. Then I realized that I could in fact make cheeseburgers, and that we even had some good toppings for them. That would be a good start. There was some red jello in the pantry, and I could add fruit.

Now, what for dessert? They deserved a good apology. We had received a plate of cookies this week and still had enough left for one each, but that wasn't from me to them. I really wanted to make up for my yelling, especially when Punkin told me very seriously this afternoon that he feels sad and even angry when I yell. OK, that's enough of that.

Then it came to me: the perfect Valentine's treat for my boys. I remembered reading a long time ago a tip about making heart-shaped cupcakes by under-filling the cups and placing a marble on the outside of each paper, inside the cup. The marble pushes the paper into a sort of heart shape, and with a dextrous flick of the icing knife-- voila! Beautiful pink hearts. I had enough batter left for a circle pan, which I planned to cut and paste into a heart shape, too, but Punkin Boy liked it just the way it was when it came out of the oven. I even found a handful of peppermints left over from Christmas; I crushed them and sprinkled them on top of each cake. (Punkin called them "the Mama cake and the babycakes"--I howled with laughter.)

The food turned out great, my meeting wasn't ruined by the messy house, and my husband brought me chocolate tonight. All is well and beautiful.

I Love My Family

Oy. I do, I love the little guys. But sometimes, just sometimes... I want to sell them to the circus.

I'm hosting my writers group today, and I was kind of anxious about the state of the house last night when I went to bed. I was hoping I could get it all clean before people arrived. I didn't sleep very well or very long, but I had my alarm set and I was going to be OK.

The Man (TM) got up this morning and started getting the kids ready for school, and I was trying to go back to sleep. I probably would have managed it too if it hadn't been for...

TM returned to the bedroom and crawled back in bed. Much as I'd like to snuggle with him on a cold Valentine's Day morning, I asked what the heck was going on. He started with, "Um, well..." Oh dear. It's not going to be good. He continued, "You know that little bag of shredded up money?" I know it; he brought it back from a career fair last week or something. I cover my eyes, even though they're not open. "Oh no." Oh yes, they did. All over the house, but especially in the kitchen...dining room... living room floor... the places I might have guests in a couple hours. "I'm getting ready to vacuum," he said. "Getting up now," I muttered. Oy.

I didn't scream, at least not right away. The damage had been contained, so I was starting to calculate exactly how much cleaning I could get done before the meeting, when I noticed what the kids were doing. Then I screamed. "Holy cow! Are you seriously eating toast right on the table with no plates?" It sounds so mundane when I say it now. And I wouldn't have screamed except there were these huge piles of black crumbs all over the table that I was planning to use for my meeting in... a very short time. "Oh come on! Can you please be civilized?"

I was even more irritated that it was almost time for them to leave, there were no lunches made, and Pirate Boy was still in his jammies. I saw red even through the cuteness. "Aaaaugh! You could have eaten on the way to school! You can't get dressed in the car!" I say this all the time, I know I do. Or at least it feels like I do. Man. I am such a nag. This is why I don't usually get up with the kids: I'd never get through the morning without screaming. Oh, and I can't survive on 5 hours of sleep like I could when I was a college student. Oy.

So I burst into tears, partly because of the horrendous mess when the family knew I was having guests over, but mostly because I wanted this day to be a special one when I could tell them all how much I loved them, but I was so angry I couldn't get the words out.

Then #1 Son got plates out and TM vacuumed everything. Pirate Boy got dressed, albeit VERY s...l...o...w...l...y.... I took a break to calm down, then apologized and gave hugs; everyone made it out the door on time, and the meeting will go on. They're trying sometimes, but I do indeed love my family.

Another One?

Yes, I'm posting again today. Thought I needed to leave you with a smile. This was in an email from my aunt, via my dad (I don't know where it originally came from):

Dick Morris looks at the four leading GOP presidential contenders in 2008 -- John McCain, Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich and Rudy Giuliani -- and notes, "the only one of these guys who hasn't had multiple wives is the Mormon."

Snicker.

More Bad Mothers

An update on the earlier post:

I'm sitting at the desk again, but this time my shoulders are shaking with laughter. It's sad, it is, but oh... let me tell you what I'm talking about.

Well, it's the essay writing thing. #1 Son had to do his homework at the dining table, where he got distracted by every little thing, including other people's homework. He did ask me for help on an essay at one point, and I think I helped clarify things for him. His biggest complaint (i.e., explanation for his behavior) is, "I can't think of anything!" As in, I can't think... at all... do my work for me! I had him read the assignment to me, and the questions he was to answer were extremely clear and detailed. I love that about his school. Maybe he needs more room for creativity, but he denies this. He did figure out what to do next, and he kept going.

Anyway. So later he remembered that "Mommy" will be calling back this evening in response to his request that she come help with some dissection next week in his very first class of the day. He called and asked her even after we figured out that, to do it, she'd have to leave her house before 5 a.m. that day. To be safe, closer to 4. He didn't see this as a problem. She said she'd think about it. So tonight she called back and he told her about the pink slip. He started crying again and went into his room to continue the conversation, which apparently was more of a tirade on her part.

After a while, he came out and (with a smirk!) handed over the phone to The Man (TM). Oh joy. I listened while folding the laundry. I wish I could repeat it word for word; even this end of the conversation was hilarious. The upshot of it was: No, eating more snacks wouldn't help #1 Son do better in school. He does the same stuff no matter whether it's first thing in the morning, right after lunch, or anytime else. Yes, he has the same chances at success as the other kids. More, actually; he's in a special writing tutorial several times a week where he can get help on his assignments. So, no, it's no one's fault but his own. Yes, glad to help.

#1 Son took the phone back, retreated to his room to cry and get yelled at some more. He eventually told her, "Look, I really need to get back to my homework now" (which I'm jumping up and down and cheering about on the inside), hung up, and got back to work. Good boy! I started helping TM with his homework. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. It's her, of course. She had time to talk it over with her husband or a friend or someone and had more to say.

Not long after, we heard #1 Son repeating "I'm a smart kid," (pause) "I can write well," (pause) "I can think up things to put in essays"... over and over in a monotone. I looked at TM in wide-eyed horror. "She's having him do affirmations!" I hissed. "What?" he asked. "You know, 'I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and...'" He finished for me: "And gosh-darn it, people like me!" We couldn't help it; we collapsed into hysterical laughter.

A moment later, #1 Son said (probably repeated, actually) in a suspicious tone, "What are you guys laughing at?" Well, TM had to explain that there was this guy Stuart Smalley on Saturday Night Live, and he was pretty funny... He didn't get into specifics, but it seemed to satisfy whichever of them was asking. We couldn't stop laughing for a long time after, though, at the idea that she was trying to help him get his assignments done by distracting him from his assignments to repeat this stuff over and over. Now I'm a really bad mother, aren't I? Oy.

I'm a Bad Mother

I wish I had a picture here of me slumped over at my desk, shoulders sagging and head in hands. It would be a picture of utter dejection with tinges of worry and anxiety coloring it. As it is, I don't know how to convey to those reading this blog how I feel about what's going on with #1 Son these days. Mainly, it's school. At least, that's the most obvious symptom. He goes to his room and claims to be working on his homework all evening, but once in a while we find out otherwise.

Last week, he came home with his third "pink slip"-- which sounds ominous because it is. These are notes to the parents, telling them that their offspring is in trouble. At this school, kids can get in trouble for disrupting class, not turning in homework, and similar irresponsible behavior. They know that this is the case, and they promise when they start each year that they will be responsible, which means doing their homework or at the very least owning up to why they didn't do it (i.e., "I didn't choose to,"), so they can't claim ignorance.

The first pink slip is just a verbal warning from the Vice Principal. The second is a call to the parents. The third gets the kid sent home for the day with the condition that he (in this case) can't come back until one of his parents comes with him and sits with him in his classes all day long. This is a major bummer for the parents, and it might even be embarrassing enough to deter the kid from further bad behavior. It's supposed to be.

Apparently, this was not the case with #1 Son. He had failed to turn in an essay even after a week's extension (which never, ever happens at this school-- usually they just get an F). He had a month or more to write this thing, and I had seen a completed first draft of it after a week, so I know he could have finished it easily. He could have, but he didn't. Even after the week extension, he still only had a first draft plus one paragraph copied onto the back of a piece of notebook paper. I don't blame the teacher for giving him the slip.

So he stayed home one day and worked on the thing. After he'd gotten his second draft done, he showed it to me. Oy. I wish I could say I didn't criticize. But for heaven's sake. You're writing an essay on William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, make sure you spell at least half of those four words correctly most of the time. There was a lot of language abuse going on, which makes me itch. I was mostly gentle about telling him where he really needed to get his spelling and word usage right. Being me, it's hard not to scream. (No, I didn't, thank you!)

About halfway through the essay, there was a random jumbling of words, mostly prepositional phrases, masquerading as a sentence. I could have edited it in a jiffy, but that's not my job as a parent. My job involved putting the younger kids to bed at that moment, but I took the time to explain what he could do to save that sentence (identify intended subject and verb, then untangle what else goes with which) and said I'd be back in a bit after I had tucked his brothers in. Well, when I came out of their bedroom, he'd gone into his and didn't come out the rest of the evening. He didn't bring the essay back to me. The Man (TM) went to school with him the next day and reported that #1 Son had just turned in the 2nd draft as he'd had it and had gotten X points taken off. But he was happy that he didn't get an F, so he considered it good enough.

So ANYWAY-- today, I get a call from the school. #1 Son has gotten his fourth pink slip (they only allow 5 before they start talking expulsion) for what? That's right-- not turning in essays. FIVE of them. Did I mention (I know I did in my holiday newsletter) that the kid won an award for being the "most improved" student in essay writing last semester? We were so proud of him. He was really working hard at it. And now, in less than 6 weeks, he's done this-- simply skipped out on FIVE essays. Maybe he figured that he'd reached the top of his game and had better quit while he's ahead.

Now I don't know what to do. TM wants to pull him out of the school. I want to help #1 Son work on his writing. I'm very good at writing and editing, so theoretically I should be able to help. But I'm not very good at helping. He's 12 years old; shouldn't we be able to trust him to do his homework on his own most of the time? If we have him sit at the dining table to do homework, he gets distracted by every little thing going on. That's why we gave him a desk for his room. And I can't just go sit in his room all evening; I have two little kids who do need supervision, at least sometimes. And TM has his own homework.

I'm ready to just throw up my hands and say, "It's his choice; he'll have to deal with the consequences." But it breaks my heart.

Under the Weather

I just want to say:

IT'S SNOWING AGAIN! AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

Sigh.

An Ill Wind

Just when I think the weather here is bad, along comes a whacker of a storm and trashes Florida (again). My cousin lives there and has weathered a lot of hurricanes with her young horde, so I've stopped worrying so much about her. But Kory O and her husband and baby live there lately, too, so I took a minute to check the devastation path on CNN.com. Her town wasn't mentioned as being hit, but I'm still worried. It was close-- too close. And I haven't heard from her. Again. Which is totally understandable when you've got all this stuff going on, but...

So, Kory, if you're out there and you can read this, let me know you're OK, eh? And the rest of you, if you wouldn't mind, remember Kory and the Tsar and the little Tsarevich... and all their neighbors in central Florida. Thanks.

Bookish

As if there were any doubt...

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Literate Good Citizen
Book Snob
Non-Reader
Fad Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Arrrgh! Take That!

Doing an end run around the "BlogThis!" function, which keeps messing me up. I have made an album online; link's at the bottom left. Some of them aren't much, but I'm still fiddling with the technical bits. Will get the hang of it shortly. Enjoy!

Distress Call

Dragging myself out of a slough of misery to report that I've had a bad cold for 3 days straight, gone through 2 bottles of DayQuil and 1 giant box of tissues, and there's no end in sight. Can't breathe, can't sleep, can't swallow, can barely move. And to give it that extra drama, The Man is sick, too, but the kids aren't.

Did I mention we're getting MORE snow tomorrow?

OK, back to your regularly scheduled lives.

Bat Boy

OK, this is mostly a test to see if Picasa is goofing me up again. But it's also a really funny picture of my Pirate Boy wearing his daddy's parka. (Yes, it's cold in our house, but not that cold.)

Dang it! It did mess me up!

Repost - Bedtime Boys

OK, this is the photo I tried to post the other night, but had forgotten to save or something. Awful cute, aren't they? Especially at bedtime.

Puppy Love

My friend Maryanne came over today to let me see the latest draft of her musical (which by the way is turning out wonderfully). She brought along her new dog, Lucky, who was delighted to make the acquaintance of my Punkin Boy. The feeling, as you can tell, was mutual. Amid the squeals, Punkin Boy was heard to exclaim, "She's precious!" Oh, the cuteness.

Bedtime Stories

A sleepy ending to a sleepy day. Pirate Boy reads to his little brother. Good night, good night, little dinosaurs.

ZZZzzzzzz....

Huh?

Just now, I was startled from my intense blogging by my punkin, who had been playing quite happily if a bit bizarrely. I looked up and he was standing by the piano in his Superman jammies, cutlass drawn menacingly. I asked him to repeat what he said, and he kindly did.

"Do you want to play Count Dooku's Nutty Fun?" he asked.

I'm not sure I even want to know. Fortunately, he's gone back to shooting droids now, so I'm safe. Well, until he decides I'm a droid.

Wiki Birthday

I dropped by to see Captain Picard recently, and it turned out he was having a birthday. To celebrate, he was playing the Wiki Birthday game with his visitors. I couldn't stay long, but I did find out some interesting things about my birth date. Since it's still a long way off, I decided to celebrate my second blogiversary by passing this along. Enjoy!

First, the instructions:
1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. In the Search box, type your birth month and day (but not year).
3. You will see a list of births, deaths and events. Copy a couple of each.
(Note: the original instructions I saw on Interstellar Lass's blog went like this:
3. List three events that happened on your birthday.
4. List two important birthdays and one interesting death.
5. One holiday or observance (if any).
I kind of liked that one, so I'll probably mix it in a bit.)

Events:
1896 - Skookum Jim Mason, George Carmack and Dawson Charlie discover gold in the Klondike in Canada
1930 - The first color sound cartoon, called Fiddlesticks, is made by Ub Iwerks (I just liked that name)
1960 - Cyprus gains its independence from the United Kingdom.

2 Important Birthdays:
1888 - T. E. Lawrence, English writer and soldier (d. 1935)
1913 - Menachem Begin, Prime Minister of Israel, recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize (d. 1992)
There are quite a few unimportant birthday people, too: Madonna, Lesley Ann Warren, Kathie Lee (and Frank) Gifford, Trevor McDonald, or even Angela Bassett or Julie Newmar

1 Interesting Death:
This one was hard. I had Babe Ruth, Margaret Mitchell, and Bela Lugosi on my list.
Idi Amin and Abu Nidal had the decency to die on my birthday, but I've gotta go with Elvis. You know:
- Elvis Presley, American singer and actor (b. 1935)
He died on my 10th birthday. I heard the news while on the way to my party; it was the only time in my life I got to take my friends out for a special party and I was really excited. The news about Elvis bummed everybody out and we had a lousy time. Thanks a lot, Elvis.

1 Holiday or Observance:
Nothing happens in my birth month, except the Feast of St. Stephen I of Hungary, which is funny because King Wenceslas also died that day. Maybe it's not that funny.

Cake and Pictures

I'm catching up on my photos; finally got the rolls of film developed from the past year. This is, of course, #1 Son and his birthday cake in the shape of Zorbak the "ebil" blue Moglin (just call him a bunny with a bad attitude). I mentioned it here, if you recall. It's not the best picture; compare it to the original here if you want. Enjoy!

Halloween Ahoy!

Arrrgh! Prepare to be boarded, matey! Here's our young pirates on their All Hallows Eve rounds-- looking good!

(Yes, I'm having fun with Picasa's collage function, what of it?)

Holiday Wrap-Up

This is our Christmas in a nutshell. Well, the kids' presents part. I don't want to bore you with the details, so here is a collage of the highlights. Enjoy!

Technical Failure

When I sat down with this laptop and pulled up a browser, I had a post idea firmly in my mind. It had been there since last night, when Blogger and Picasa were fighting and could not reach a compromise that would let me post what I wanted to. But by the time I got the Blogger dashboard up (not long at all, I have to say), it was gone. Totally. Just like those golblasted things I tried to post last night. So you get nothing-- or rather, you get me telling you that you get nothing. Lucky you.

It's gone daddy gone,
My brain is gone...


Stupid narcotics.

New Year's Resolution, Anyone?

Thanks to Renee for this silliness...

In the year 2007 I resolve to: Sleep my way to the top. Get your resolution here.

And I do mean "sleep."

Spice Cupboard of my Mind

So I was buzzing around my kitchen tonight (baking more banana bread, if you must know) when I found my mental radio station tuned to the Butthole Surfers' song "Pepper"-- you know the one, "They were all in love with dyin', they were doing it in Texas." The lyrics of songs sometimes get stuck at a certain point when they're running through my head, as if my subconcious is trying to send me a message. But strangely enough, I wasn't stuck on the "cinnamon and sugary" part.
No, it was this part:

Some will die in hot pursuit
In fiery auto crashes
Some will die in hot pursuit
While sifting through my ashes
Some will fall in love with life
And drink it from a fountain
That is [what, boys and girls?]

...pouring like an avalanche
Coming down the mountain

Yep. Some days I'm so sick of this place I'd even move to Texas-- or Alabama.

The Study of Pirates

Pirate Boy studies Pirateology. What a happy pirate he was!

Ta-Dah!

I figured out how to hook up my new digital camera, took a picture of the (halfway melted) snow out my back window, used Picasa's "Blog This" function, and... POOF! There you have it. Expect more of this silliness in the future.

Scone, entering the photography age
(What, only 150 years late? Meh.)

And now for something completely the same...

It's snowing. Again. I'm just sayin'.

White Christmas and Other Fairy Tales

Well, we had a good one. Everything worked out, the kids loved their presents (hey, who doesn't love seeing their favorite Star Wars characters fly into tiny Lego bits?), and we managed to keep them happy with just the "Santa" stuff until my folks arrived Christmas afternoon. They got here safely, we had a good hour or two of unwrapping fun presents, and we ate lots of good food.

Some really fun stuff made its appearance during this time. Punkin Boy, who is diligently learning to read, now owns Volume 2 of The Electric Company ("Hey, you guys!"), which was a favorite TV show of mine ages ago. And Pirate Boy is now the captain of no less than two new pirate ships (complete with cannon and harpoon gun) and dresses every day in his official Jack Sparrow pirate gear. Among the presents The Man (TM) and I received were a fluffy warm featherbed (must locate a duvet cover!) and... a digital camera! (Holy crud, such a nice one, too!) Our families are awesome.

The folks had to leave again Wednesday afternoon, which at the time was a bit of a bummer for us, but... by now you've heard about the second blizzard that hit us-- yes, it was Thursday. So very exciting. This time, we were prepared. In fact, we ended up with more food than we had room for and had to ask our wonderful neighbors if they wouldn't mind keeping some extra milk and veggies for us. (And if they happened to need some, well, all the better.)

Friday somebody in a bulldozer came through our neighborhood pushing snow off the streets, which was very nice. Now we all have these 4-foot walls of jagged ice around our property. Handy in case of invasion. The mailbox has one, too, but fortunately, the mail hasn't really been running lately. (Case in point, we just this weekend received our mortgage statement for the payment due today. I hope they're not holding their breath.)

Fortunately, TM was able to get the car out today to make the long drive to pick up #1 Son from "Mommy's" house. He's full of excitement about all his relatives he was able to meet on his trip to the South. And of course all the money they gave him. Well, who wouldn't be? I'm still a bit suspicious that That Woman will take us to court and sue for custody in, oh, 6 weeks or so, because we're too poor to support her baby and all. OK, more than a bit suspicious.

But (aside from some sniffles in the little punkins) we are doing fine, we really are. Snowbound, a little. But well fed, decidedly. A little too much so. In fact, anyone want to come over for some egg nog and pecan pie? Pumpkin bread and cocoa? I have those cute holiday marshmallows... Anybody?