Ahhhhh... Rescue Pack! Comin' to the Rescue!

I finally mailed out my mini-swap box today. It is headed to Indiana, and once it is received I'll post pictures of what I mailed them (and the family is going to Disney World, lucky luckies, so it might be a couple of weeks). I actually came up with a couple of good ideas, if I do say so myself.

Past that, my house is in total disarray. Griffin's birthday thank yous need to be done, February photos need to be snapfished, fabric needs to be ordered and I need to bang my head against the desk because OH MY GODDESS, I CAN NOT HANDLE IT ALL.

Obviously, some ouzo might also need to be drunk. Maybe THAT will help me have a post with some real content.

Without You I was Broken, But I'd Rather be Broke Down with You by My Side

Today is Aaron's birthday. Which meant another weekend-long celebration and multiple times of me annoying him with I'm in my twenties, you're now in your mid-thirties (because, according to him, 33 was NOT mid-30s; but it is undeniable now).

However, I was on excellent behavior today.

Happy Birthday AB!

Case Number 312,856: Why I'm a Bad Mom

Yesterday, I lost Griffin.

Yeah. I. Lost. Griffin.

I ran down to the basement to make the washer do another rinse cycle, and I was downstairs between five and ten minutes. I came back upstairs and Griffin was gone. Gone.

He's been taking to playing hide'n'go seek a lot lately, so I looked in all his regular hiding spots. Didn't find him. So, I looked again.

Still didn't find him.

So, I went around and made sure all the doors to outside were looked (and they all lock from the inside using a key); luckily, they were all locked.

So I went around again looking for Griffin. And then I got a little freaked out.

I started running around the house yelling, "Griffin, please come out, you're scaring Mommy!"

Still, no Griffin.

I crossed the baby gate into the kitchen. No Griffin. I opened Aaron's cave door and screamed into the room. No Griffin. I crossed the baby gate to upstairs and screamed and looked for him. No Griffin. I ran down to the basement. No Griffin.

After a good 15 to 20 minutes of looking, I called Aaron at work (who should have been home by that time anyway) and told him I couldn't find Griffin. He was irritated and said he was on his way home.

I looked and cried and looked and cried. I flipped over the couch and the loveseat. I looked in cabinets, showers, and impossibly small spaces. I looked under tables and over dressers, and screamed to Please! Come! Out! You! Are! Scaring! Me!

After another 20 minutes of looking, I called my parents.

"Daaaaaaaaadeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"What's wrong?"

:: sobbing :: "I can't find Griffin!"

"What do you mean you 'can't find Griffin'?"

"I can't find Griffin! I want to call 911, but he has to be in the house..."

"We're on our way over."

The I ran around the house looking some more for Griffin, sobbing and screaming the whole time. Finally, I heard a little something.

I ran into the playroom and it was louder. I flipped over the train table, and there was Griffin, crying, curled into a little ball with buckets of toys surrounding him to block the view of him being under there.

"I so sorry Mommy!"

And there we were, sobbing together.

He must've wedged himself in there really good and fallen asleep. And I swear, I looked under that damn table at least three times, and tried to move those buckets of toys around; but since the buckets were so wedged and so deep, I figured there was no way he was under there.

So, yeah. I'm a bad mom. I lost my kid in our own damn house.

Corners of My Home

For this week's corner...


This is Darwin's corner of the boys' bedroom. Our house, being 60 years old, is funky. We have two bedrooms upstairs (and two more on the main floor), so the boys must share. But I like having them share a room, and I love the awesome roof pitches. Click on the photo for more details.

For more snooping in others' homes, click here.

Sittin' Waitin' Wishin'

I am so ready for spring. Fresh air, parks, letting the kids run (and thus, sleeping better at night... maybe even a nap every so often?), and working in the garden.

My hands need to be in the dirt. It's good for me... and I have big plans this year, as this will be the first year I haven't been pregnant or nursing in over four years.

But, in the meantime while I anticipate, this will have to do...


And the smell is heavenly.

Lucky, Lucky, You're So Lucky (Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh!!!!)

Griffin's party went fabulously Sunday. Narely a problem erupted (which is quite a big deal in our household; especially on party days).

Griffin had a great time, and was quite happy to meet his quota of "Happy Birthday, Griffin!"s and passing out the goodie bags (he's such a whore for the goodie bags). That's really all he cared about - people wishing him happy birthday and goodie bags.



The cake? Turned out beautifully.


The presents? Abundant.


All in all, a great Chicken Little party.


Today is his actual birthday. We went to Whole Foods to buy food for dinner; and Griffin insisted on a birthday food-gift. I'll give you three guesses...





No.





No.





No.

Yes, cheese. Griffin insisted on getting Birthday Cheese.

All it takes to make my four-year old happy is Alternative Rock and expensive, hand-made cheese. Happy Birthday Griffin!

Insane in the Membrane (Insane in the Brain!)

I know, internet; I know.

I have less then 18 hours to the party and I'm posting. WTF?

I've been a mad woman, mad I tell you.

Last night, around eight o'clock or so, I went out (with only a thin jacket and no socks, in eight-degree weather) to go to two grocery stores and a scrapbook store. I nearly lost some fingers due to frost bite. But it was all worth it because I got to hear the "Humpty Dance" on the radio (People say, "You look like MC Hammer on crack, Humpty!").

Then today, I was out again running everyone everywhere and I didn't get home until after four o'clock this afternoon. And then? I baked the gluten-free cake (I totally kick ass. Expect a cookbook soon, internet. Soon).

And now, I'm in the middle of making a Martha recipe for chocolate frosting. Which, Martha? Let's get a little serious.

For starters, it should be called "Four Hour Frosting." Because that's how long it takes to make.

Second of all, Martha, what happened to your standards? Nestle morsel chips? Are you kidding me? In the magazine you specifically said "Use an inexpensive brand of chocolate; fancy brands won't work as well." You're MarthaFuckingStewart, not Sandra Lee for christsakes. Get a grip. Make your entourage of people do your damn job, and do it right!

And third of all, do you know why the cheapie brands work better? Do you? DO YOU? Because they contain GLUTEN Martha, GLUTEN. And as we all know gluten is a binder sent from hell to make bad food look good. BAD FOOD, MARTHA.

Now... I must go back upstairs to stir the Four Hour Frosting. AGAIN.

Corners of My Home

For this week's corner...


This is the playroom or the art gallery, depending on who you're talking to.

The kids prefer to play in the living room -- underfoot, of course. But occasionally they'll play in here, especially if friends are over. I was originally going to paint the walls orange, but decided that a neutral color would offset the artwork better (because I knew I would hang art projects on the walls). For more details, click on the photo.

For more corners, go here.

Everyone Knows I'm in Over My Head (Over My Head)

My head feels like its going to EXPLODE. EXPLODE.

We finally have an adequate cake and frosting recipe for Griffin's party this weekend. Unfortunately, adequate doesn't cut it for me; but I'm going to roll with it anyway and top the event off with crying in the bathroom. The flavor is good, but the texture of the cake is like cornbread and that's quite bothersome to me. Looks like I'm going to be perfecting the recipe for quite awhile (anyone want be a guinea pig for gluten free cake?).

I still have so much to do, including making tons of lists of everything that needs to be done. Perhaps the worst part is that I know a Whole Foods trip is going to be scheduled on Saturday, and unless I really trust Aaron I'm going to have to go there and fight the crowds. My head hurts. Seriously.

And I'm experiencing some MAJOR guilt -- I bought myself a little present (with cash, from my hoarded Christmas and birthday monies) yesterday, and I just feel weird about it. Granted, I got it 30% off, and people claim I'm totally gonna love it and use it all time, and I've been wanting one forever, but still? Guilty. Guilt-tay. And perhaps a BIG part of that guilt is that I'm so busy dealing Griffin's party, Griffin's blanket, Griffin's birthday and then Aaron's birthday that I have no foreseeable time in the future to scrapbook. And if I did? I had better be working on the damn entry room instead. My head hurts.

Okay, I'm going to go be productive now. Whining to the internet doesn't seem to be helping my head at all (in fact, its making worse because Aaron's gonna read about my present and go ballistic and use lots of "WOMAN"s on me) and the motrin isn't helping either. Argh.

Edited to add... Just got home from the chiropractor, and I'm already feeling better. Except he gave me a hug and now I have his scent on me (which, don't get me wrong -- he smells good) and now my brain is telling me dirty whore! dddddiiiiiiirrrrrttttyyyyyy wwwwhhhhhooooorrrreeeee because I now smell like another man. Gah.

Adventures in Cooking

This evening, as I was making dinner, I sliced an onion in half.

It was rotten to the core.

And I thought, that's a pretty damn good analogy of my day.

Conversation with Griffin

"Mommy, that you friend?"

"Huh?"

"That you're friend?"

"What?"

"On the fridgderator, that you friend?"

"No, honey. That's the President of our country, dressed like the fool that he is."

Psycho-Maniacs

So, after taking the depressed cookie cake out of the oven...

:: sobbing ::

"Why are you crying?"

:: sobbing ::

"Do you even know why you're crying?"

:: sob :: "Because I'm a failure. A faaaaaaiiiiiillllllluuuuuurrrreeee..."

"Why are you a failure?"

:: sob :: :: gasp :: :: sob :: "Because the cookie cake," :: sob :: "Is ruined. Rrrrruuuuuiiiiinnnneeeddd." :: sob ::

"You're crying because the gluten-free cookie cake is ruined?" Takes a bite. "Actually, that's pretty damn good."

:: sobbing :: "No, its not. Its not good enough..."

"Woman."

"I cook. That's what I do. You've been yelling at me for, " :: sob :: "Months to write a cookbook and," :: sob :: "I can't even make a fucking cookie cake. How in the hell am I going to tell people how to cook if I can't even make a cookie cake?"

"Laura, you know for a fact that gluten-free baking is hard. Its difficult. Why do you think you haven't been successful yet? You're not a failure. The only thing you're failing at is expecting yourself to do something no one has done yet."

:: sobbing :: "There's no room for mediocrity. You know I'm an overachiever. I use to be a master baker, now I'm, " :: sob :: "A failure."

And on, and so forth, for about another 45 minutes, until I decide I'm going to kick gluten-free baking's ass and put that bitch in her place, and run to Whole Foods (oh gawd, Whole Foods? I hate you on the weekends. Hate.) and buy a whole bunch of ingredients, determined that I, by myself, will concoct a SUPER gluten-free baking mix all On My Own, Thank You Very Much. And I came home, made dinner and self-medicated myself by watching Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy because all that emotion? Is totally exhausting.

As for the other psycho-maniac?


Griffin had a complete mental meltdown when Aaron told him he couldn't grow a beard yet.

Honestly, I have no idea where my children get their dramatics from.

Gluten-Free Baking, Gone Bad

Oh dear. This bad. Very bad.


I just got these out of the oven... they are burnt on the outside, collapsed and raw in the middle. The worst part? The cookie dough was yummy. But its absolutely disgusting baked.

I have six days to perfect some sort of gluten-free cake for Griffin's birthday party.

I am most certainly screwed. SCREWED.

He's Been Away So Long (So Long, So Long), He's Been Away So Long... Here Comes My Man

Ah, Aaron is on a plane right now, coming home. Thanks be to Goddess, Glory Hallelujah, etc, etc.

The older - and more rowdy - the children get, the harder it is to have him travel. And boy, does he travel. He typically is out about 100 days of the year, and I just can't handle it anymore.

But he's coming home tonight, and that's a very good thing. Because you know what that means, don't you?

Don't you?

(Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.)

That means I get to sleep. Sleep.

I suffer from horrible insomnia when he's out of town (which makes handling the situation all! the! much! better!). And not the good Martha-Stewart-insomnia where I can plaster the entry room, start priming, take out all the yucky grout in the bathroom and experiment with gluten-free baking. No, I suffer from the suck-ass-insomnia where I lay in bed staring at the clock thinking, "Shit, how am I going to handle tomorrow? How? How? HOW?"

So, tonight, I should finally be able to sleep. And I'm so looking forward to it.

Corners of My Home

For this week's corner...


This is in a corner of my living room; I've had the 200-year old stained glass window for about eight years now. I know I should "retire" it, since each of our children have broken a stained glass lamp, but I just can't bring myself to put it in a lonely, dark location.

For more snooping (or to see more corners of other people's homes), go here.

Whole Foods Whore

Today, I succeeded! I ran all around Whole Foods and tracked down the coffee bitch.

Ah... minty mocha.

And? I finally found the xanthan gum.

That shit cost $9.49, so it had better damn work! (For those of you who don't know, both the children and I have Celiac Disease, which means no gluten from wheat/oat/barley. Aaron has had it with the gluten-free mixes [and I agree; they are not so good], so now it is time for me to experiment with my tried-and-true recipes; xanthan gum is a necessary element to gluten-free baking, as it is suppose to prevent baked items from collapsing -- we'll see.)

As for the tulips? I deserve those damn tulips, deserve.

Let's just say that it may have something to do with the fact that the almost-four-year-old took it upon himself to crap in his goodnite diaper this morning, with it oozing out of every orifice of the diaper, then while I was giving him a bath his one-year-old brother did the same damn thing. And I? Did not lose my temper. Not Once. I DESERVE THE TULIPS.

Owner of a Lonely Heart

Meh. Make that Owner of a Chaotic Mind. Actually, I have both.

Aaron's out of town this week (and no, that has absolutely nothing to do with my chocolate and alcohol-induced bender I'm on. Ha! I laugh in your face! Hahahahahahaha! Ahem); luckily for him, he's within driving distance to see his parents and grandmas. Unluckily for me, I'm left home alone to deal with our children.

I took Griffin to the Occupational Therapist for an hour of fun-filled activities to help him with his Sensory Integration Disorder and "borderline Autism." Its also known as "Let's make Laura feel like a worthless mother who should have her head chopped off (Chop it off! Chop it off!) Hour."

Then, I got to come home and spend two hours and fifteen minutes fighting with insurance (and how is it I don't get paid for this shit?) over covering Darwin's safety glasses.

First I call the opthamologist office (no word yet, should have heard by monday morning, boo!), the the insurance (we're approved! yay!), then the doctor's office again to tell them we're approved (yay!), then the eye glass place (nope! not approved! boo!), then the insurance again (you were approved monday, yay! but don't expect authorization for six weeks, boo! what? you want authorization now? I'll hang up on you! boo!), the the insurance again (yes, you're approved. yay! no, we won't give the approval to the eye glass place. boo! you want to know how much? oh, no monetary amount has been approved. boo! go buy the glasses and make the eye glass place send a claim. then we'll decide how much of that we're paying. boo!) and lastly to call the eye glass place to tell them HOLY FUCKING SHIT WE ARE COMING IN TOMORROW MORNING TO ORDER DARWIN'S DAMN GLASSES AND YOU HAVE TO SUBMIT A CLAIM TO MY INSURANCE BECAUSE THEY SUCK ASS.

And do you know what the eye glass place said to me? Do you? DO YOU?

"Okay sweetie, we'll see you tomorrow morning and everything's gonna be just fine."

Sometimes, living in Kansas isn't so damn bad.

Whole Foods, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

Whole Foods, you know I am in your store every Tuesday and Thursday mornings like clockwork. I expect someone to be at the coffee bar with minty mocha in hand. Especially on a day, such as today, when I got Griffin to preschool late, dressed Darwin in Griffin's clothes with no socks and no coat, after laying in bed until 2 am waiting for the Ouzo buzz to wear off already.

I waited there for over five minutes. Obviously, you have no concept of what Five Mommy Minutes are like. In five minutes, I can unload and load the dishwasher, wipe down all the counters and the table. I can also take out the trash and swifter the kitchen and breakfast room. In five minutes, I can run downstairs and start the 16th rinse cycle of the towels; I can also check e-mail, read three blogs and monitor how soapy the laundry still is.

You know I am completely whipped by you. You realize that you are the only shop in town that can make me a mocha with some sort of mint product in it, and it is all gluten-free. And, obviously, you realize that no matter how much you abuse me, I'll be back in your store in two days like a wounded lover wanting to purchase groceries and a minty mocha. You're becoming my abusive boyfriend.

Ouzo

Or, as we like to call it in this house, MommyCalmDown Juice.

And no, I will not comment as to how many shots I had this evening.

You Know I'm Losing My Mind...

... when I stare into a poopy diaper for over five minutes, thinking What the fuck did that child eat?

I need some adult time. ADULT TIME.

Return of the One-Eyed Cretin (oh, now, that's just plain evil)

We took Darwin to the Opthamologist yesterday for a four-month check-up from his eye accident ("All the Drama").

Darwin, October 7th, 2005; ten days after his accident.

The doctor was amazed at how much movement he has regained in his left eye and eye lid. She thought he could keep healing, but it is possible that at some point it will regress a little, but not to how he was immediately after the accident.

Darwin, January 24th, 2006

Darwin does respond negatively to bright light in his left eye, so the doctor looked through his retinas to see his optical nerves. The scale the color of the nerve from one (best) to four (worst). Darwin's right eye is a one, completely healthy; his left eye is a "four plus," its the lightest color nerve she has ever seen. His left optical nerve is severly damaged, and he is blind in his left eye.
Due to being blind in that eye, other parts of the eye might degenerate due to no longer being needed; but this is not something you can see physically.

Due to now having only one functioning eye, we have to get Darwin safety glasses. She gave us a prescription, and hopefully insurance will cover all or most of the cost. He will wear them at all times (in the tub, swimming, etc.), for the rest of his life. We may also need to get him safety sunglasses, due to the fact that his left eye is sensitive to bright light.

The doctor also mentioned that for her whole career and future career, this will be the biggest freak accident she ever saw. Gee, thanks.

Corners of My Home

I love, love, LOVE being nosey. So this is right up my alley...

For my first participation of "Corners of My Home," (brilliantly developed by Amanda at SouleMama) may I present a small area in an even smaller kitchen...


This is the small butcher block countertop (which really? It is gross. Needs work, but I don't know how to refinish it) between the fridge and the stove.

My mother-in-law purchased the old blue colander from and antique store after I fell in love with it (yes, it is filled with organic fruit; we are getting to be quite "crunchy").

I painted the two pieces of pottery at a local store (and re-fell in love with painting pottery). I did the pitcher first, and the store was closing soon so I didn't let it dry enough between layers so the paint job came out muddled. But the small tray - that I use as a spoon rest - came out perfectly.

For more snooping, go here.

Everytime You Close Your Eyes

Turns out, having OCD is good for at least one thing...

I pieced the panels yesterday, and did the orange shashing today.

And? Griffin loves his blanket...


Now, I have to sew the Minky on. And I really do not like sewing the Minky on. It ruins my scissors and needles. But if you've ever had the pleasure of having a blanket with Minky on it, then you know it is so worth it.

So, I'm hoping tonight to birth the blanket (yes, its actually called that. Who knew quilters were so sassy?). And I think from this point forward, I'm doing all the work by hand.

Oy.