Not Calm (dot com)

I didn't get carded at the BlogHer launch party in San Francisco on Monday night, but I had a good time anyway.  See for yourself. 

But, more importantly, see the new BlogHer site.  It is very very good. 

And Grace, she deserves a MEDAL a big shiny valuable medal, not only for driving me all over the Bay Area, but for listening to me go on
and on
and on
and on
and on some more. 

Thank you Grace! 

And, I will spill a bean (just one) if you keep reading. 

snapshirts

Thanks to Jess and Sweetney for the link. 

plans for the week

Okay, then.  I was not going to even bring this up, but Grace forced my hand.  I'm going to the mystery thing with her.  But, I'm much more interested in seeing some of my favorite women than in either of the Billys.  Billies??

out with the girls

Yeah, so, last night?  I GOT CARDED!  Did I tell you that????  I went out with K (my free therapist), and E (her friend who lives in the most beautiful place ever and brought photos and made me want to pack and go now), and M (she knows how to pronounce Einsturzende Neubauten, and I just always go "ein ze mumble mumble noy e bouten" so I think she is the coolest. woman. ever.) and we had a whole lot of fun.  If your idea of fun is listening to me talk and talk and talk and never shut up, that is.  It's partly that I talk all the time (hence, the blog) and partly that I was drinking pints of Harp on tap, and partly that I am too often spending the day scrubbing things and moving small pieces of plastic around the house in my pajamas.  (I may have stolen that 'moving plastic' bit from another mama blog.  I have a feeling that is not my original material.  Sorry and thank you! mystery mama)

Anyway, none of them will invite me anywhere ever again, except K, who has to because sometimes I baby sit for her, though not nearly as much as she does for me.  In addition to being carded, I got sorta picked up on (!) by a guy at the second bar we fled to when the cover band at the first bar started playing.  He said I looked 23 years old, which is probably the best line ever, or one of them, I'll have to consider that (tell me in comments, best line ever.  . . ) and totally wasted on me.  He also refused to believe that I have four kids, which was another wise line of b.s.  You know, I think I'm beginning to sound a little snotty and stuck up here, and I hate those girls, so we'll just stop that now. 

I came home (K drove me) and found Willow and John asleep in the big bed, so, being the good parent I can be when pressed, I slept in Willow's bed.  Because drinking and cosleeping don't mix.  And neither do drinking and breastfeeding.  It was a beautiful thing, too.  I slept alone until 8:15 when they woke me up.  I wish they'd let me sleep longer, because evil evil little elves cracked open my head during the night and put my brain in a taffy puller and let that go awhile, and then they crammed it back in, backwards, and glued my skull back together.  I think if I'd slept just a bit longer, I'd have not felt so wretched when I woke up. 

And, that said, it is rather late and I should get some rest.  I'm too old to go out and party like that.  Which is what makes it so much fun.  Thanks girls!  I totally owe you money, because I know that the eight bucks I chipped in does not even begin to cover it. 

There will be

much cussing, so read only if that is okay with you.

hooray!!!

Oh internets, something wonderful happened to me tonight!!  Not only did I get to go out with my girlfriends, but

I WAS CARDED!!  FOR REAL! (or the waitress was after a big tip, whatever.)

I can't tell you how happy that makes me, seeing that I am oh, FOURTEEN years over the legal drinking age. 

I think I ought to sleep now.

OBaby

Oh. boy.  Am I ever in some serious love. 

Willow kinda likes him, too.

He sleeps like a champ.

And, he smiles at me.

I said it in the comments on another post, but I'll say it again; I am such a breeder. 

Here's a good way to supplement that Post Secret addiction. 

Doug: Sorry, dude!

This is from Elayne, and like she pointed out, it was buried so I'm posting it.  Doug is an O-K guy and I should have kept my mouth shut.  So, sorry Doug, and here is Elayne's defense. 

Hey Jen - thanks for linking to me (what a traffic boost!), and thanks to everyone who visited and commented. 

I do feel the need to defend Doug a bit, though - Doug's an atheist himself, and is easily as firm a believer in the "keep religion out of government" precept as I am. Brews an excellent beer, builds a wicked playground set, is a very involved dad and a devoted husband. BUT he enjoys playing Devil's advocate every so often, and he and I have a running "picking on your logic" deal. And actually, in part because of his challenges to my sometimes sloppy thinking, I HAVE gotten better at refining the process, and developed the habit of thinking about what I'm thinking about, if that makes sense - so it's helpful.

I recognized the sarcasm in his comment, because I've known him for quite a while, but someone who doesn't know his "voice" might easily misinterpret it.

Anyway, this comment is kind of buried here in the page so I don't know if anyone will see it, but I feel kinda bad that Doug's tongue-in-cheek "Christian nation" comment (which probably would have relayed the sarcasm better if he'd said "dontcha know" instead of "you know") seems to have been taken seriously, wanted to at least make an effort to clear that up. **smooches**

So, the little guy (Baby O) should be here any minute.  I may never ever blog again.  We will see.  Wish me luck, Willow is cranky already and she hasn't had to look at me holding a small cute baby yet.  Into the fray. . .

 

I Squidoo, do you?

bring it on

My youngest child, Miss Willow, will turn three in exactly a month.  Then it will be an officially baby-free house for the first time since Lex was born in October of 1996.  I love babies and taking care of them and hanging out with them, you know, looking at leaves on trees and chewing on board books and all.  But, as sad as it makes me to see the kids grow older (and surlier), I think that the baby phase of my life is justifiably over.  It was a very long run.  Maybe this spring, but definitely this fall, Willow will begin a super-part-time preschool.  And it may come to pass (I will always think of Cate Blanchett now when I hear that phrase, thank you Peter Jackson, she's a pretty thought) very soon, that I will have time to get groceries and clean around the oven with a toothpick and go to the library WITHOUT CHILDREN.  On a regular basis.  I think that only if you have been in my brand of stay at home with little kids boat does that really mean anything to you. 

So, guess what I did??

My friend, she called and was telling me that now that her third child, little baby O, is three months old, she is ready to finish up her degree, but was having a rough time finding childcare. 

Uh-oh.

Yes, I did.

I start tomorrow. 

Slap me.

I'm kinda excited, though.

I love babies.

Well, THIS is totally depressing.

Elayne

pulls off the impossible, and uses the basic principles of Christianity to support choice.  How fucking cool is that?

thanks, sophie!

I was getting into the shower this morning, and Sophie was behind me.  This is what she said:

Your butt is GIANT!  That's why it makes wobbles when you walk!!

(She is lucky that I love her.)

a tale of disaster, narrowly averted

After I got all four boys out the door this morning (we have a friend who catches a ride to school with us in the mornings), I went to pour myself a cup of coffee and get the girls their breakfast.  And then a terrible thing happened:

the coffeepot (which I KNEW was full and waiting for me *sob*) was nowhere to be found. 

I looked in every room of the house, in the fridge under the tables in the trash; nothing. 

Did you ever see a short cartoon called "Family Dog?"  In it, the family comes home from a night out to discover that their entire house has been looted by thieves.  The mother goes into the kitchen, where she sees the sad little outline of where the coffeemaker used to sit.  She says, in this great, nasally horror struck voice, "OH MY GOD!  THEY'VE TAKEN THE COFFEEMAKER!!!!"  That was me!  Totally! 

I called John's work, even though I doubted he was there yet, and I talked to S.  I said, "S, this is not super important, but at the same time, it is kind of an emergency.  I can't find the coffeepot."

S:  Oh, no!
Me:  Yeah.  I looked everywhere, and I saw John making some this morning.  I am worried that he accidentally just took it with him or something.
S:  Well, when I see him I'll have him call.  You poor thing, STAY STRONG!
Me:  (weeping) I'll try.  Thank you.

I kept looking, but no luck.  AND NO PHONE CALL! ** Finally, Sophie decided that she wanted veggie bacon for breakfast, so I opened the microwave to heat some up, and (insert choir of angel voices and beams of sweet, heavenly light here) there was the coffeepot!  In the microwave!  And now, I am properly jacked-up and hyper like I should be and my little corner of the world is alright again.

the end

Also, right now, Sophie is standing next to me with one of the boys spy gadget voice recorder toys saying things like, "poop,"  "fart," "poo-poo diaper baby butt."  She is so refined.

**He called right when I was finishing this up.  So, forget my complaining.

manual labor

I spent the morning putting together a bookshelf for the boys, which I secured to the wall and got partway filled up with books before having to give up because the girls were making a horrible mess with all the boys' stuff. 

This afternoon, I decided to FINALLY investigate the bathroom sink which has been draining v e r y   s l o w l y for the past few days weeks.  See the proof below:

I found a penny in the u-bend catch thing (which I bought and installed my own self awhile back) and it drains a little better, though not much.  I think the real problem is somewhere in the thirty year old (and then some) pipes that lead from the drain to the scary place under the house.  I got out my plumber's snake (I have two) and tried to clear it out, but the snake wouldn't go in and I did NOT want to break a hole in that pipe like I did with the drain the last time I tried to fix this.  When I took everything apart initially, the first thing I thought as the wretchedly icky gloopy slimy water got all over my hands was, "Thank Jeezus I am not a plumber.  I will never make fun of them again.  And why oh why don't they make the pipes out of some aromatherapy infused something to keep me from barfing under the sink?  Also, I don't think I will ever eat with my hands again."

cute + totally affordable =

l o v e !!

thanks to Wee Wonderfuls for the link

Before

you argue with me about whether or not underage girls ought to have parental consent to have an abortion, or why you think the clock should be turned back to 1972, read this.  THEN give me your reasons.

happy january! (not)

Taking a break from the kids has turned me into Mommy Dearest.  I have no patience.  They are too loud, whiny, and demanding, and they want me to do things I know they can do themselves.  They poke me and fight and use words they ought not to.

I need to take a step back and get a grip and take proper care of them again, but I find that I feel not a small amount of resentment toward them.  Which, just. . . I need to get a grip!  Like I always say, I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.  I think maybe I just need to deal with other things going on so I can be a nice mama again.  Not that I was ever stellar about not yelling and all that, but things are definitely not so great around here.  The worst part is that I can see and hear how I'm treating them and I do it anyway.  (uh, note to anyone overly concerned:  no need to call cps or anything, I'm not, like, beating them or calling them names, I'm just using too much volume)  And I have no one to blame but myself, so I guess starting now I will just suck it up, step up to the plate or whatever, and PLAY NICE. 

wish me luck

edited at 8:37 pm to add:

Tonight being a better parent means letting the kids stay up a little bit after bedtime to finish watching Flubber instead of shrieking at them about taking a bath.  If there is one thing I am good at, it is going from one extreme to the other.

mac and cheese

The girls got one of their favorite weird treats (frozen hash browns, anyone?) the other day.  I gave them each a tiny glass ramekin of mac and cheese cheese powder (blech, but they beg for it).  I tucked the envelopes behind the toaster and went to fold a load of laundry while the pasta cooked.  How stupid am I???  OF COURSE they got into the rest of the cheese.  I got to bathe them, clean the table, and mop the floor, and they got to discover that they don't really like mac and butter. 

I think that someone should start a dork cooking accident of the week.  Here is my entry:

I was making a lemon tart in a tart pan.  A real tart pan is in two pieces; the disc at the bottom and the circle for the outer edge, which has a little lip to keep the side piece on.  Then, after the tart is baked, you slip the side off and admire your pretty, upright crust on the side.  I prebaked the crust, which you do when making a fruit tart, and here's where the dorkness comes in.  I took the pan out of the oven and what did I do but slide my potholdered left hand UNDER the pan to take it out of the oven.  I ended up with a several-hundred degree bracelet on my wrist.  I did manage to save the crust, and the burn isn't painful at all today, though I will have three little brands on my hand and wrist to remind me to pay attention. 

Sophie, what is that sticky stuff on your neck?

I don't know, maybe it is a lowly-pop of Halloween. 

(funny girl)

I know, I know, with the links. . . but, this one is mandatory reading.  Pretty please. 

Here is a gift to give to a kid whose parents you really hate.

hint hint

If you draw my name in some gift exchange thing or another, you might find this information useful.   (two words: mama duck)

edited to add:

looky here, too  (thanks to Karin for the link)

this should be the entry in the dictionary under "poem" 

too bad christmas is so far off

I want THIS,  which was pointed out by Not Martha. 

setting a fine example

Sophie came to me crying because, she said, Nate twisted her arm.  "I need some of your beer to make me better!" she wailed. 

"MY WHAT?"  I said.  "MY BEER????" 

"Yeah," she said, "I'm cryin' for beer."

pictures

coconut cream pie (shared with my mom) and coffee at a place in McKinney, TX.  The Kitchen?  The Pantry?  Dang, I can't remember.  Let's Google, then.  Here it is!!  The Pantry, yes!

boots and cowboy boot slides (I NEED to have both kinds, but don't have the money.  I may go back to work just so I can have some of those boots.) from this store in Mc Kinney, which is owned and operated by my mom's best friend from childhood.  While we were there, my mom bought me three pair of pants (NICE pants, dry clean pants, not jeans pants) and a very cute top to go with, and earrings (two pair, one was a present from Ms. CJ herself) and my grandmother bought me the cutest ever shirt that I will photograph later when I have the camera. 

a few "out the window while driving" (nearly off the road) shots on the road between my grandmothers' houses

Here I tried to photograph this picture that hangs in my grandmother's house.  That's my mom and me about 35 years ago.

And now I have to run and clean up the living room carpet.  You see, Sophie thought it would be fun to stomp on some cheese crackers and when I told her she had to clean it up, she decided to use a dozen dishtowels and three quarters of a bottle of orange-based spray cleaner.  After she totally soaked the carpet and crackers, she covered the whole area with the towels.  And walked on them!  I think it's all dry enough to vacuum now, so we are going to go do that. 

I'll show YOU a fire

You know, things like this make me REALLY ANGRY.  The story does address how ridiculous the whole thing is, but what makes me so furious is everyone standing around wringing their hands over the law.  They all agree that she should have been an exception, but! you know! the law and everything.  I wonder if a male candidate were hospitalized for, oh, say, burns he sustained fighting a fire or a hernia or whatever, he would have been given the test in hospital with no hassles.  I think he would've. 

AND, her insurance wouldn't let her return to her inpatient status, so she had to come to the hospital every four to five hours to nurse her baby.  I have nursed four newborns and I can tell you that is not even close to enough.  In my experience, a newborn needs to nurse pretty much nonstop.  With tiny breaks to sleep and poop.  Really, five hours?  Maybe for a formula fed baby, but not one nursing.  And, if you have given birth, you know that it can leave you feeling like you ran a marathon, backwards, in spike heels with a fifty pound bag of sand tied to your head.  And that is an easy after birth sorta feeling.  If she hadn't passed that exam (she actually kicked some ass and almost totally aced it) and had been denied her promotion it would have been an injustice, to her and her child, as well.  Again, I wonder if a male candidate were hospitalized for exhaustion if he'd be given a pass.  Sadly, I also wonder that if a female candidate were in hospital for pretty much anything other than childbirth if she would have had no problems. 

The world needs to quit picking on mamas. 

slap me

because I have to admit that this gives me severe and complete baby lust.
congratulations!!

seriously, did you ever in your life see such a cute little baby?

storytime

I have several stories from my trip that I want to write down before I forget them; but first I have to tell one from tonight.  If I had the camera (if I had a hammer), I'd have some evidence to go with, but instead I will just describe.  If you read this page, you may know about the egg events of late. 

This is much worse.

The boys had a ton of challenging homework to do.  Lex is in the middle of a book he can't put down, and Nate is on a game boy kick.  Homework doing didn't occur until nearly 7 pm, which is too late in my book, but the best I could do.  I had the living room cleaned up and vacuumed, the girls were plugged into the lit-L mer maide, and I was in the boys' room helping them figure out the difficult bits.  I went to check on the girls.  Willow was sitting in front of the television with a box of crackers (I forgot to put them up after supper) and a fairly new, and more importantly, OPEN, jar of mayonnaise. 

I know!

She was COVERED in greasy mayo grease.  Her face.  Her hair.  Her bare legs.  Gleaming one and all.  Shining like a bodybuilder's greased up shaved skin at a competition.  (and I know, I have been to one of those before)  So, we had an emergency bath, along with a little yelling and laughing, because, MAYO!  It is both worse than and funnier than eggs.  Maybe.  Sophie swore her innocence, but I found two big old soup spoons on the kids' table and they both had partly-sucked gobs of mayo in them.  I think she was the mastermind.  They both eat butter, so this is not a stretch.  All is well now.  I am drinking a beer, though. 

Okay then.  One texas story before I sleep.

See this guy, with the hat?

We were waiting for our connecting flight in denver and we were sitting in these little church pew type seats, glazed eyes fixed on the tv news.  And then this cowboy (only not the good, lean, appealing kind of cowboy, but the head up his ass kind) he struck up a conversation with a fella and they stood there RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SCREEN.  Nobody, in all twelve rows wide enough for thirty people, could see.  And he stood there for a good half hour while my mom and I, and eventually the guy a few seats down from us, made fun of him.  My remark about him was, of course, HE IS JUST LIKE MY KIDS.  My mom said "you make a better door than a window," and luckily he didn't hear her and chase us up the escalator or something.  On second thought, look at him.  I totally could've taken him out. 

More tomorrow. 

hello, ya'll

Back from Texas.  I'm sure I will wind up in hell for this, but I didn't miss the kids.  Not one bit.  I have an unholy amount of things to attend to.  I have some stories, too, but they'll have to wait a bit. In the meantime, here are just a couple of photos. 

time off

Very busy.  Must pack.  Must put kids who are UP WAY TOO LATE to bed.  Must finish a million things, sleep some, get the kids and myself off our separate ways in the morning.  I'm going to concentrate on not feeling guilt and on resting and enjoying my time.  I bought needles and yarn today, so I will have a couple of projects to work on, and I am taking TWO BOOKS!  which is a small achievement in itself. 

Have a nice holiday, and remember to do something to honor and remember Dr. King. 

Here's what I'll do on the plane!

I can't tell you how much I LOVE stuff like this.  I found the link at Angry Chicken and I'd link to her, but it's late and you can just check the side bar on the left.  I printed out a bunch of other paper toys awhile back, but the kids were not as into it as I was.  Except maybe Sophie, who crumpled up most of the things I made with her Lenny kind of loving. 

I will have to print and pack tomorrow.  Did I mention that I'm leaving town for a few days?

ALONE

Really, I'll be traveling with my mom, which is better.  We will be fine talking over the roar of the jet engine,  because it is several million decibels quieter than my adorable loud children.  Better print out photos for the grand and great grand parents.  Better get a new printer cartridge.  Better try and sleep.  My brother is here for a work trip and is sleeping on the couch.  We got to hang out and talk, which was so needed on my part.  Must try to rest, though. 

hanging my head

I am too ashamed to say what *just* happened, but let's say there is a new hiding place for the eggs. 

Apparently, eggs are so yesterday.  Today it's tissue!  All over the living room!  And stuffed into anyplace possible in the couch! 

I seem to have the mom thing down cold.  Took thirty bux to the grocery store and without paying too much attention, spent $29.51.  We have eggs in the house again, and the fancy-schancy kind of eggs they are.  I hid them behind three gallons of milk, but I feel like I'm tempting fate.  Or someone.

Bath time.  Bed time.  Then, blog surfing time, if all all goes well.

the topic that wouldn't die

Just now, Sophie came up to me and said, "Mommy, listen to my idea, Mommy.  Here's my idea: YOU go to the store and buy two, uh, two things, two boxes, um, two PACKS!! of eggs.  One is for eating and one I will crack and YOU will clean it up.  Okay, Mommy?  That is my idea."

And then I banged my head into the wall repeatedly.  THE END

This will only make sense if you've read the egg-related posts, but, last night for dinner:

Onion and Parmesan Frittata!  with basil

And now we have no eggs, again.  And that is fine with me.

can't stay away, it seems

I have to find someone to give this to next christmas.  Maybe Sophie secretly wears it, because she says the most surreal things of anyone I ever knew. 

I came up with a new phrase that I will not define for you, because, uh, of my audience and the fact that it may soon include my dad, who hasn't been introduced to my sailor-talking tendencies, but the phrase is Blogjob and maybe Jess will explain it.  I'm not entirely sure WHAT it means, really, I just mistyped something uh, else.  Dad, if you are reading this don't click.  Really, don't.

I'm sure I'll be around before I go, but go I am going to this friday.  I will be back on monday, late enough to call tuesday, really.  I will not see a computer the whole time I am away, I imagine.  I am planning to pack the great Japanese stationery that Marsha sent me to write to the kids at home.  Even though I'll be back by the time they get their letters (which I will get to keep, because I can't part with the paper goods).  Still they love to get mail.  Like me. 

And, if it didn't sink in or I wasn't clear: I am going away.  With my mom to visit family.  By ourselves.  I feel like I'm getting out on mini-parole.  I won't have to wipe any behinds for three days.  Bliss. 

and

I was inspired by Ms. Uffish to do this thing.  I am so validated!  Here's who I look like according to the software.

and also,

I guess I had this coming

While I was typing the previous post, which had to do with the post before that, guess what the girls did?

blood and chocolate

This morning Sophie still has chocolate barf in her nose (see post below) because she hurled after her bath and fell asleep before I could get her properly cleaned up.  And Willow, she has blood in her nose because she was picking it.  How often do you have to clean blood AND chocolate out of little girls' noses before breakfast? 

a small tale of baking ingredients gone awry

Oh. boy.  Yesterday evening the girls got into the fridge and discovered a carton of eggs.  There were four left, and I told them I'd cook them one or two, but that the others needed to be saved for breakfast, seeing as how were out of bread, oatmeal, and other things the beings here will eat.  Before I knew it there were broken eggs all over the kitchen floor.  None survived. 

SO this morning breakfast was bleak and so was lunch since we were out of mostly everything else, too.  I took Miss Willow to the grocery store tonight and bought TWO cartons of eggs and you know what she did?

DO YOU?

it only took me three hours

to figure this out.  How long will it take you?

Nathan is eating his cereal this morning, he stops and asks me, "Mom, do you believe in side-kicks?"

"Side-kicks?  Uh, yeah, like Robin, you mean?"

"Well, because your sister, she KNEW that santa was bringing us a game cube and she and James got us those games, AND she knew what James was getting her for christmas!  Some people just can see the future."

I just got that while I was folding laundry.  I get the "Monday morning brain" award this week!

the bird

Once, long ago when Lexy was a baby, my only child in fact, I took him to visit relatives.  The day after we came back he took a late nap and woke up around 5 p.m. screaming and screaming and, well, SCREAMING.  He'd been a little snotty, and since we'd just flown, I thought that maybe he had an ear infection.  I know how much they hurt, because I STILL get them and they make me cry.  So, off we went to the urgent care, doc-in-a-box clinic. 

For a few hours, we waited and he SCREAMED and I couldn't really help him in any way.  He was two years old on top of everything else and if you know any two year olds you know what I mean.  We were greeted by the doctor at 9 p.m., which was late for Lexy and we were all just exhausted and starving and ready to get out of there.  Lexy didn't want to cooperate with the exam, so I offered to hold him with his head to my chest and let the doctor look in his ear like that.  Which is how every other doctor I knew of did it.  Not this one.  This one took him and put him on his back on the exam table, climbed up onto the table and pinned him down with his knees and lower body and had a nurse hold Lex's hands over his head, and then looked in his ears.  I could not believe it and I didn't even react for a minute because I was so horrified.  Then the doctor said that he was writing me an RX for penicillin, even though he strongly believed that the only thing wrong with my child was that he was really spoiled and uncooperative, and that his ears were red, but that it was probably from all the screaming and crying.   He even gave me some parenting advice. 

I am getting a pretty big adrenaline rush of PISSED OFFNESS just remembering this.

Anyhow, while he was turned away from us writing, I, with much vigor, flipped him off.  I even made the little jabbing motion you do when you are really angry.  He turned around and saw me.  My husband (at the time) was just mortified by my behavior, but I have to say that if I ever saw that man again, I would use BOTH HANDS and I would add some choice words. 

Thanks, Jess, for making me remember that. 

monkey mama

I have proof that I, maybe not everyone but certainly I, am descended from monkeys.  I love to pick my kids' noses and clean their ears, scrape off that damn cradle cap and get the gick from their eyes.  I have licked my own fingers and used them to wipe their faces, but only in an emergency.  Once, when I looked into Sophie's ears with my otoscope * I realized that I couldn't see her eardrum because there were huge chunks of earwax in the way.  (And you thought mommy bloggers only talked about poop when they were being gross!)  So, I made her lay her head on the floor and I got some really blunt tweezers, and I pulled out a piece of earwax the size of a full-grown snap pea.  The other ear was the same.  It was so totally disgusting, that I recently thought about not cleaning her ears much for awhile to see if I could do that again.  And THAT is how I know that I am part monkey.

Let me completely change gears now.  Tonight I went to run on the treadmill at the gym and I looked up at the tv and saw the closed-caption at the bottom of the screen.  It made me cry, because my granddaddy was deaf, and at their house it was always on.  He used to laugh at what the football players were saying on the sidelines.  He was an expert lip reader!  It still doesn't feel right to say "was" when I talk about him.  Time to go sleep. 

*Have a baby or child? Spend thirty bucks to know if you need to go to the hospital in the middle of the night for that ear pain.  You'll be thanking me at three a.m. someday.

my kids want to know

Is the earth bigger than the car wash?  Sophie

What is the caterpillar smoking?  Is it the stuff you can buy in a saloon?  Lexy (while watching alice in wonderland)

How old do you have to be to have sex?  Nathan (I am going to keep a CLOSE EYE on you, son)

I make bubble??  Willow

Here are a couple of things I've been meaning to get to (along with the many email messages and comments I need to respond to)

My sister and her fiance (I'll be glad when they're married and I don't have to worry about how to spell "fiance") gave me this for christmas.  LOVE IT.  The blood orange and peppermint are especially good.  I keep intending to mix them up and see what I can come up with.  The brewing mug is genius.

And, here are the two biscotti recipes that I made for christmas.  I made the choc chip one again, because I gave away most of them the first time and I needed to have more.  Addictive.  Both are from this book.  I hope she doesn't blog surf and see me giving away her potential sales and sue me.  Buy the book!  There are tons of great cookie recipes in it. 

Milk Chocolate Almond Biscotti
Chocolate Chip Almond Biscotti

I'll put them out of the way over here. Just so you know, these look more difficult than they really are.  I think so, anyhow.

channeling my inner amazon

I spent a couple hours in the front yard this afternoon sawing up this tree:

Those branches are bigger than they look.  And also, the saw I used was about an inch and a half wide and maybe fourteen inches long.

A woman from down the street saw me sawing away, announced that I'd NEVER get that tree cut up, and offered to send her husband and his chain saw over later on.  I took her up on it, then slowly realized (with great horror) that she was one half of the people who have the bumper sticker that I so want to vandalize.  It is an anti gay marriage little slice of hate, slapped on the back of their jeep.  I knew I could never live with myself if I let him help me out, so I did it myself.   

It took forever and I can already feel it all over.  When I came in I was still feeling burly, so I waxed my eyebrows before I took a shower.

I have to go drop the big kids off with their dad and then come home and do more laundry.  I am in love with those machines.  Really. 

We had a little weather yesterday.  If the new washer and dryer are delivered tomorrow, I will test them out with the clothes that got so muddy on our walk through the neighborhood. 

I talked to my dad just before his father's funeral service. Most of my extended family was there, in Texas.  I couldn't make the trip, so my little family and I took down the tree and packed away the decorations.  I snuck under the covers to cry a few times, too, but each time I was jumped on and tickled by someone little and reminded that I need to be with them, not sniveling in my bed. 

We finally got the washer and dryer thing figured out, so of course today the van wouldn't start when I needed it to bring me home.  Hopefully it is the battery.  Maybe the alternator.  I seem to be incapable of owning a car that just works.  I need to learn the lesson from that so I can have working cars.  Maybe that attitude is what has me stuck here, though.  I ought to go do the dishes and make sure the laundry area is as clean as it can be.  I want the new stuff to feel loved so it will work happily.  (Just don't tell the dryer that my dream dryer is this one.)

At Nathan's kindergarten conference last year, his teacher told me about how he would sit at his desk, look at his classmates and smile.  He was supposed to be doing his work, but instead he was just taking it all in, and being happy in the presence of his friends.  When she said that, I immediately thought of my granddaddy in his seat at the dinner table.  When we were there, especially when lots of us were there, he'd sit back in his chair and smile at us all. 

He died yesterday morning.  (December 30th)

He'd have turned 93 on New Year's Eve. 

I can't go to his funeral.  I'll be there in two weeks, but I just can't go right now.  In some ways, I'm glad to be going later on.  It will be nice to see my grandmother without everyone around, but I want to be there and I want to see everyone.  I missed his 90th birthday party because I was in the hospital trying not to die.  That was the year that Willow was almost born way way too early and I was the sickest I've ever been.  I remember when midnight came I was sitting in my hospital bed puking my guts out.  I was so so so sick.  For weeks I had to carry a tupperware bowl with me if I left the house.  Right before Willow was born, my mom's father (Poppa) died and I couldn't go to his funeral either, since I was still touch and go with the pregnancy.

My granddaddy made some arrangements for things that would happen after he died.  He asked for his grandsons to be his pallbearers, which my brother will be there to do, and he set aside some money to pay for hotels for anyone who had to come from out of town for his funeral.   He was a doctor, and just like the stereotype, he loved to golf.  He even got to play at St. Andrew's.  I think that instead of flowers, I'll make a donation to the Tiger Woods Foundation.  My mom and her mom are going to donate to the American Heart Association. 

The boys and I stayed up to celebrate the New Year.  We toasted and made lots of resolutions.  And now they are ready to go to sleep, so I will go lay down with them. 

Happy New Year, everyone.