You Make Me Feel Like I am Home Again

I just did a frantic search around my house -- apparently, we don't have any prints from our wedding. 'Cuz, you know, today is our eighth anniversary and I was going to put a picture up and write about how I couldn't have imagined loving someone this much, nor could I have imagined having to resist beating the shit out of someone with a frying pan either. BUT NO PHOTOS.

What the fuck? I have NO pictures of my wedding? Just one engagement picture.

Oh my hell. Good thing I bought the negatives. GUESS WHAT I WANNA DO. Argh.

Good thing I've got some chocolate cupcakes baked. Now, just to make some caramel buttercream and I'll have something to drown my sorrows in.

I'm Just a Little Bit Caught in the Middle

It's often the weekends when we have little plans other than relaxation that life decides to jump up and bite us in the ass.

You suffer from that too, right?

Aaron and Griffin spent the weekend out sicking each other. Like some damn competition. Then Darwin goes and raises the bar by slipping in the hallway and splitting his chin open. Which required a trip to the ER. For stitches. Four stitches. And a diagnosis of a half-an-inch-deep laceration. And a really strong chin bone.


Aaron took it all way worse than anyone else with a gigantic freakout over the the blood! the blood! oh my god, the blood! Which made me realize: he's never been home during a serious (or even semi-serious) accident. Always at work and just meets us at the hospital. Welcome to my world buddy.

Darwin's fine. I promised him new Legos if he managed to keep his shit together, which he did. He did deep breathes and quizzed addition problems during the stitching, he was quite the trooper (and rewarded with new Legos yesterday - Indiana Jones ones because we couldn't find a Batman set with Batman in it for less than 50 bucks). We just have to keep it clean and covered and blah, blah, blah.

The biggest issue is coming up with a better story to impress the ladies with. "Slipping on dirty laundry while running in the hallway and then falling" is not a very badass story.

I Never Thought This Day Would End

It's been a hectic day. A work-gymnastic-pharmacy-grocery store-work some more kinda day. Made better by constant repeats of Cure songs.

Tuckie continues to be a shithead. I got so desperate today, I dunked him in water and tried to force feed him. He can keep his mouth shut for a super-long time.

Mwahahahahahahaha, I ignoring you! Mwahahahahahah!

So, I'm tormenting him with sulfa baths.

I have officially decided that a puppy is way fucking easier than a turtle, gimme one. My friend even feeds her dog a gluten-free diet and she doesn't make any of his food. Aaron is this close to not having anymore excuses.

Tuckie went through a similar stage last fall, so I'm hoping his shitheadiness gets better soon. Because I cannot handle work, school, preschool, soccer, gymnastics, cooking, cleaning, being a mother, being a wife, TRYING TO HAVE MY OWN DAMN HOBBIES and worry about a temperamental turtle all the time.

Gee. That makes me sound like a bitch.

So, obviously, the best solution for my situation is for Tuckie to Get Over His Issues Already, Damn.

Just a Slob Like One of Us

On the drive home from preschool today, Darwin was singing "God is good, God is great, thank you for feeding us," and BAM just like that: I remembered Darwin goes to a Christian preschool.

When Griffin was in preschool, he never gave the whole thanking-God-for-food thing much thought, so I didn't either. And then when Christmas came around, Griffin thought it was kinda odd they celebrated baby Jesus and asked me if we believed in Jesus and I said the story was true, but I don't worship Jesus. His reply? "Oh good!"

So in being as religiously diplomatic I can be (because I want my kids to make up their own minds with as little of my overbearance as possible), I asked Darwin what he thought about God just now, after he set up a tea party for Legos and was singing the song again.

"Hey Darwin, can you sing that song to me?"

"God is good, God is great, thank you for feeding us."

"What do you think about God?"

"God is good?"

"Is that what you think or what preschool taught you?"

"What preschool taught me."

"Okay. What do you think?"

"God is... God is... I don't know. What do you think Mommy?"

"I think God is the same as Universe, Destiny and Mother Nature."

"Mother Nature?!"

"Yep."

"I LOVE Mother Nature! Mother Nature is cool!"

"Why?"

"Because Mother Nature takes care of us and give us food and gives animals homes."

"Those are very good reasons Dar."

"Thanks! I go play Legos with Griff now."

You know, in actuality it's all the same. There's no differences, just labels.

I Ain't Freakin', I Ain't Fakin' This

Standing outside preschool today I (somehow) got into a conversation about music.

Yeah, go figure.

So the Other Mom was all "oh, I get to listen to music I like now." And I was, of course, all "What the fuck you talkin' about?" But only without the fuck because we live in Kansas.

And she was all "oh, don't you get tired of listening to kiddie music?"

And I just stood there and blinked erratically and tilted my head to the side like she was speaking Plutoanean.

"Um... we don't listen to 'kiddie music.'"

"Oh, sure you do. Lori Berkner."

"No."

"Oh, you don't know who she is?"

"Oh, I know who she is. She's great when my kids are sick and they watch her video in between Little Bill and Dora. But no, we don't have any of her CDs."

"Oh, so you listen to the Disney channel?"

"Um, no. We listen to The Buzz [the local alternative station]."

And, of course, now she's the one blinking erratically.

So what if my kids like alternative rock? Griffin's really into Kings of Leon right now, Darwin loves The Ting Tings.



That's not bad parenting. Bad parenting is listening to music you don't like and that's not instilling a love of music to your kids. If you can't stand what you're listening to with your kids, what's the point? How is that teaching your children an appreciate of something - not just music, but art, design, fashion - or anything for that matter?

Don't people talk about such things? Surely I'm not the only freakish mother on this earth that talks about music and listens to music a lot - and I ask my kids their opinion.

And guess what! THEY HAVE OPINIONS. Opinions about all sorts of stuff, like Griffin DOES NOT like abstract art. Not at all. He thinks people got lazy and threw some paint on the canvas. And he's entitled to his opinion. And I love that my kids have opinions.

And I really appreciate the fact that my boys ask for the Jonas Brothers be to turned off and Deathcab for Cutie to be turned on.

So, of course, after I mentioned the alternative rock station she was all "Okay! Bye!" which really shouldn't be all that surprising. But I can't help but wonder, does she even know what she enjoys?

I've Had a Little Bit Too Much, Much

I love Autumn.

Later, summer (sucka!) -- I'll be seeing you in nine months. It's been great (not really, but I'm cordial God damn it).

Summer's gone, time for soccer, football, pumpkins and non-crispy grass.


It's also time for pumpkin pasta, apple muffins and chili (except for the fact that Aaron spilled his all over the couch and floor last night; had I thought of it quick enough I wouldn't have scrubbed the holy hell out of the carpet so that I could FINALLY RIP IT UP and expose the hardwood floors, damn it).

Welcome Autumn, so glad you're here.

Wanna Forget How to Remember

I called our hair-cuttin'-lady today to make appointments for the boys to get trimmed up tomorrow. I've been seeing the same lady for over 15 years now, she has a daughter a year younger than me and a son a few years younger.

Today when I called, I was told her son-in-law was killed Friday in a motorcycle accident. He and his wife have four kids and one on the way.

I'm shocked. I'm crying -- this hits way too close to home. My mom died when I was four, Aaron's father passed away before he was born. We both know what it's like to be in those kids' shoes, to be raised without one of the most influential people in your lives.

I don't ask this often, but if you pray or send out thoughts to people -- could you do that for them please? I cannot even comprehend what that family is going through, they need all the positive help they can get.

We've Got the Vision

At Preschool...

Kid #1: "Look Mommy! I got a piece of shiny paper!"

Kid #2: "My paper is a mirror!"

Kid #3: "Mom! I have silver-y paper!"

Darwin: "Mommy! I have a piece of paper that has a reflective surface!"

Open Up Your Plans and Damn You're Free

Everytime we get some free time around here (meaning: Aaron's home during daylight and not spending four God-forsaken hours to mow the yard), instead of running to the sewing area and working on the two three baby blankets I need to make and work on the quilt (um, yeah, hi, over-analyzing it, I know) I've been running to the kitchen instead.

To bake.

It's addicting.

I thought my next perfected gluten-free recipe would be brownies. Turns out, no, notsomuch. Can't get the baking time right with the balance of ingredients. It's damn infuriating.

And then I made my dad a German Chocolate cake and ohmyheavenlyfuck, that was awesome. But I'm lazy. So... haven't posted that yet. Argh.

But! I did do this!


Pumpkin muffins!

Yeah. We ate them all weekend long. And did puzzles. And played Legos. And made spaghetti pie (it's baked too!).

In recap: we ate like pigs and played like kids. Good weekend.

I Feel Helpless, So Hopeless, it's a Door That Never Closes

This morning I was catching up on some work email and making notations in a spreadsheet, when I had to type today's date -- 9/11.

It's amazing how one second you're fine, the next you flash back seven years to an absolutely devastating day.

My mother-in-law was in town, helping Aaron pain the nursery. I was five months pregnant with Griffin. The weekend prior, they were giving me a hard time for making them paint "white-on-white" (white trim, cream walls). I was sick with a yet-to-be-diagnosed case of pregnancy induced asthma.

That Tuesday morning I came downstairs, my mother-in-law was shaking on the couch. The television was one. Thirty seconds later, the second plane flew into the other tower.

The horror and fear was palatable thousands of miles away for days. You could feel the death. Feel the worry of everyone searching for family and friends. The air was thick emotion, like moving through muddy waters.

The following week was horrible - everything was speculation and everyone was still searching, searching, hoping, hoping.

And now, seven days later, it feels the same. I'm unable to move, unable to breathe. Just sitting, looking at my home. Watching my son play with Star Wars toys and watching Dora, like it's just any other day. But it's not.

Oh, I Think I'll Get it Done Yesterday

I thought the whole point of the kids going to school was to allow myself to Get Shit Done.


Turns out, no. My shit keeps piling, reproducing. If I make it out alive it will be a miracle.

A Chart is a Handy-Dandy Scientific Tool

We've been looking forward to watching Sid the Science Kid ever since we first heard about the show this summer. The boys first watched it one day last week while I was working -- I was impressed. Griffin immediately pulled out a piece of paper to make himself a chart of how often he wants to go to Target and look at Legos.


Yeah. That would be every day.

So I was all ooooohhhhh, awesome, charts! and decided that we needed to save that episode and watch it as a family this weekend.

Oh my hell.



Now, I will say they have ROCKIN' hair. But oh my hell, they are obnoxious.

Not to say science needs to be serious at all times, but the mom and the teacher movin' their groove thing? Talk about ruining a child's expectations of how a parents should dance. And he carries around a microphone that he can make give him applause? Hell no, we're not getting one of those -- my kids have inflated egos enough, thank you very much.

Luckily, Sid pulls his shit together and gets Scientific on our asses.



More shows need to get Scientific on our asses. And I'm not talking Eureka scientific, which forces us to explain to Griffin that it's not really science, a lot of what they do isn't possible. Yes, yes, maybe someday someone can bend the time-space continuum but not now, honey. No, no not for your first science fair. Maybe something with dissolving aspirin in hot and cold water instead, mkay?

But, the boys love this show. They enjoy watching the episode. And we've decided to suspend allowance for a short time to work on a chart instead (it was Griffin's idea).


He picked out a Lego he wanted, Aaron and I decided on an appropriate amount of squares (and what those squares equated to) and Griffin's excited.

And I'm really hoping this ends the Let's go to Target and look at Legos! mantra.

And it Always Goes On and On and On and On and On

You know how society claims that children imitate their parents, right? And that, maybe, someday they'll end up being just like their parents?

That day has come too fast.


Turns out I'm raising children to be workaholics. Workaholics who are too damn lazy to fold the quilt. Crap.

You're Taking Your Sweet Time

Tuckie's going through his autumnal shedding-of-his-skin, which is completely disgusting.


This is directly correlating to the beginning of my autumnal shedding-of-my-mouth. Now, normally when I share that with people they're all ewwwww but you know what? Be happy I'm not posting a picture of that disgustingness. And seriously, I cannot be the only person on this damn planet who sheds their mouth-skin twice a year. Impossible.

Tuckie's shedding is slow-going, but I guess it always is. His appetite decreases, his skin starts looking gray, his shell looks muddy brown. He'll be a "new" turtle in no time, but I really dislike all this shedding business, it makes me concerned about his health. Well, that and the fact that he's got bloodshot eyes, like he's sneaking back from the bar at 2 a.m. and I've got half a mind to ask him how many lap dances he paid for.

So we're back to the Vitamin A eye drops. And I yelled at Aaron to Get That Damn Fish Out Of Tuckie's Habitat. I fucking hate that fish (it makes cleaning the tank nearly impossible) and it doesn't even have a name. So I call it the Pregnant Shit in my head, but not out loud. Because I'm a good mother, goddamnit.

And really, this whole Fish thing is really just another one of Aaron's Experiments. Like that damn betta fish he has living on the back patio. Which lives in one of Tuckie's old habitats that has a full inch of green sludge all over the surface. Do you know why we have a betta living on the back patio? "To eat the mosquito larvae." Guess who has to have a lid on their habitat to keep a bird from eating the fish? Right! The betta! Guess what can't lay mosquito larvae with a lid on a habitat? Right! Mosquitoes! Quess who has three buckets of water surrounding the habitat so he can grow mosquito larvae to feed to the fish? That's right! My husband! It's a mind-numbing never-ending series of "experiments" over here.

And yes, this is a longish post to distract you from the fact that I haven't worked on the quilt. It totally worked, didn't it?

I'm Gonna Swallow My Tears

When Griffin started first grade a few weeks ago I was giving other parents high-fives in the hallway. Hell, when Griffin went to preschool as a four-year old I was giving other parents high-fives in the hallway.

But when Darwin went to His First Day of Preschool today I got dizzy.

My baby? In preschool?

No, no, not my baby; not in preschool!


Awwww, crap. ::sigh::

This whole kids-growing-up-getting-older-bullshit is ridiculous.