So Get a Witch's Shawl on, A Broomstick You Can Crawl on

I have a date.


With Spiderman and Boba Fett.


Okay. Maybe not the real ones -- these versions are much better.

This Age of Industry, for Today I'll Let it Go

Yesterday was one hell of a day, beginning with a visit to the boys' dentist.

Now, I will say the boys have finally gotten to the point where they have their shit together while we're there, no more screaming and thrashing around. No more needing four techs to each hold down an appendage to get flossed. We're doing good.

Then (then! OH MY HELL, THEN!) the lady goes and effects Darwin's gag reflex and guess what happens...

Yep.

Vomit.

Everywhere.

In between his jacket and shirt, in between his shirt and body. Down his back. In his pants. Oh my hell.

Then, I find out that Griffin has nine cavities. For those of you in the back: NINE CAVITIES. Oh my fucking God, does he even have nine teeth to have cavities in?!

Apparently so.

His adult molars coming in over his baby molars are already cavities. The dentist said this is due to bad genetics. VERY BAD GENETICS.

Given I didn't have my first cavity way into my 20s, guess who I'm blaming this one on.

I'm a city girl, but I've heard there's a saying - something about always look at it's teeth before you buy a horse. Apparently, YOU NEED TO THAT FOR HUSBANDS TOO.

Your Point of View is Medieval

I'm on the fence with early voting. Normally that's what we do but meh, come on... it's quite the hassle. Usually I'm in a longer line there than when I do go to my normally scheduled voting locations.

Plus, I really like slapping that sticker on my collar that very moment.

Instant gratification rocks.

Here's a nice little social commentary on life...

In 2000...



And today...



Seven days to go. Anyone else ready?

I Took the Good Times, I'll Take the Bad Times

My grandma has been in the hospital for over a week now. Mentioning this to people makes them say "Oh!" and tilt their head in concern, with worry, "What can I do to help you?"

Maybe it's because my mom died when she was 28 and I've dealt with one of the hardest loses you can deal with so early in my life. Maybe it's because my grandma has pretty much shut me out for the past ten years, refusing me to see her unless at family gatherings (which has added up to about four times in the past 10 years). Maybe it's because I've never had a "close" relationship with her to begin with. Maybe it's because my grandma is 84 years old, has had nine children, 21 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, she's had a lot of living.

I'm in no way traumatized by my grandma teetering on that brink - in that space with you don't know what the outcome will be.

My biggest concern, of course, is her getting proper medical treatment and not being in pain. Have the hospital hook her up to IVs if she's not eating. Making sure the oxygen line isn't poking her nose. Her neck having the proper support.

The past week has been filled of frantic phone calls with family members. Changing appointments and canceling commitments. Visiting the hospital.

The sensible person in me just wants a time-line. A list of expectations. To know what to do, when to do it and who needs to get it done.

I always cope best with a plan.

With the Voltage Running Through Her Skin

I wish I could make deals with my body. Like, okay, you can have a migraine for a day but you have to wait till next Tuesday, 'kay? Because having it jump up and bite me in the ass does no one any good. (And neither does that bitter-cold wind we're having too.)

So, yeah, hello high stress levels. Four nights down, eight more to go. I'm a one-third through this trip. Argh.

Griffin's out of school today and tomorrow for parent-teacher conferences.


I went to his this morning, his teacher loves him. He has outstanding grades. The only slightly-negative thing on his report card was from his art teacher. Apparently, he's not "doing" his art right - this isn't the first of this I've heard. Griffin doesn't like art class because his art teacher tell him he's doing it wrong. To which I always tell Griffin, "Work on your art, do not talk to others. Hold you scissors properly. Use the materials you teacher wants you to use - but ultimately you can't do art wrong." What a fucking dumbass.

I'm blaming my headache on her.

Everybody Gets There and Everybody Gets Their Way

I love being an observer. I think that's why I became permanently attached to a camera when I was 11. Except that one time I was taking pictures and my teacher took my camera and threw it away.

I rescued it at recess.

I had to opportunity to hang out at Preschool one day last week, to see how their day goes.

I need to learn those teacher's mad time management skills, yo.


Outside, at recess. Determining who was being which princess and who was which prince car from Cars.

It was decided I was Princess Jasmine. "Because of your dark hair and dark tan!" Thanks for the stereotype, sista.

It's a Mess, it's a Start

I'm unhinged.

Aaron's been out of town more days this month than he's been home. He left yesterday and will be gone the rest of the month.

I know my friends get squeamish when I mention he's gone and I totally respect that but holyfuckingshit, come on, this is ridiculous.

So. Darwin's spent the whole day in jammies because I'm just not up for the fight. I had little to feed myself for lunch so I had tea and almonds. Our bedroom is an ungodly mess, hell the whole house is an ungodly mess. Griffin's upstairs throwing a fit because I sent him to his room. For lying. Over a stupid carrot on the floor. WHY WOULD YOU LIE ABOUT A CARROT ON THE FLOOR? Jesus Christ, get it through your thick skull already - NO LYING. Is it really all that damn difficult?

So... I'm trying to breathe. Trying to find a groove that works for all of us.

Single parenting sucks ass.

Oh We're Still the Greatest, the Greatest

After all the lovely comments about my Lego jack o-lantern, I spent my morning searching for something appropriate to use in my banner for November. And found this:

(All images come from lego.com)
(Please do not sue me. I love you. And I'm sure somehow over the past few years I've driven up your sales. )

::heart thumping::

And then Lego said they wouldn't sell it to me. Damn it!

So then I decided to download the instructions so I could build it with what we have around the house.

Well, they wouldn't give that to me either.

So I called them.

And acted really nice.

And they said they'd email me the instructions -- SCORE!

Of course, while he was looking into doing that, I did a search for their advent calendars this year. So far, I've only seen the City calendar and we've been doing that one for about five years now. Between the jewel thief and the crazy fire chief who like to saw everything, I'm kinda burnt out on the City advent calendar.

And my search resulted in this:


Oh HELLS YEAH, a Castle advent calendar. Which contains...


and...


I think she's my new hero. Can I be her for Halloween? And...


She looks like me when a mouse sneaked into my house!

::swoon::

So I asked the Lego guy how come this advent calendar isn't for sale. You know what he said? "Oh, ma'am, that's only available to the grown-up club."

THERE'S A GROWN-UP LEGO CLUB?!

You know what that nice man did? HE LET ME BUY ONE.

So... now I'm all sure you all are more than excited for December first to come, as THIS YEAR I'll be documenting the Lego Castle Advent Calendar! Whee!

We Need Somebody Great to Get us Back On the Track

We're a pretty political family - well, I mean, the boys aren't but Aaron and I are. So maybe we're a pretty political couple.

Howeverthehell you want to say it, we're political.

And I'm well known for getting into heated debates with people and calling them "fucking idiots" to their face (hi Dad!).

So, you know, to keep the peace around here I try to not go on tirades of what I think because I do believe that the majority of people here are well-educated, self-thinkers and have the right to their own opinions.

But let me just say, I'm so damn proud of how my street is lookin' lately.


Isn't this particular 2008 Autumn glorious?

I'm Tense and Nervous and I Can't Relax

On any given day, this is how our kitchen table looks.


That's like, normal, right?

Some Things You Can Never Choose, Even if You Try

We got the microwave out yesterday! And it's a big mess of ickiness, I'll post a picture after I've adequately scrubbed. Because even after scrubbing it's only gonna downgrade to "disgusting" so you won't be disappointed.

I expect lots of pointing and laughter.

So in my quest to not only banish Mommy Guilt, I'm also working on getting my crafting mojo back.


Not much, but it's amazing how much a little bit of crafting makes me feel better. Now if I can just continue it...

Been Workin' So Hard, Keep Punchin' My Card

The past few weeks have been hectic for me, work done plumb got crazy on me. Don't get me wrong, it's a very good thing - just busy.

And ::ahem:: if you are so interested, yes, the network is open again.

But all this workworkworkin' has made me slide on my upkeeping of the house and I think my OCD is starting to give me nervous ticks.

So today I've been trying to catch up and I've thoroughly have managed to disgust myself. No, not just with the dry crunchy dry cereal leftovers on the floor (although I really should only allow Darwin snacks at the table, geesh), not the gray haze on all my furniture (but still, ewwwww), not the five loads of laundry to put away and the eight loads to be washed (do they make robots for that yet? laundry-put-awayers?) but what REALLY sent me over the edge was a pan of leftover cornbread.

Cornbread that I thought was about a week old.

I'm guessing I have seriously lost all account of the passage of time because goddamn was that ever disgusting. Green and brown and black and red and cobwebby things and HOLY CRAP THE SMELL. ::gag::

And yes, I did attack that mess. As well as the laundry. But the floors and dust? Meh. That can wait.

Instead I've been listening to Darwin sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "The Roof is On Fire" all day. I also watched Griffin plan, make and test a zip-line.


We've kicked the soccer ball around outside, watched a movie, made a snack together.

And reminding myself why I work so much - to take care of them. And to remind the stupid Mommy Guilt to shut the fuck up already.

And Boy You Got it, So Wrong

We were gettin' ready to go to Darwin's preschool Open House the other night, I was standing in the kitchen cleaning Dar's glasses for him. As is usual protocol, he starting discussion his blind eye.

What can I say? It's one of his favorite topics.

(Over-indulgent self-centric tendencies. I have no clue where he gets that. Hmmm.)

So, we did the "when you close your seeing eye what do you see?" "black" "does your eye hurt?" "nope." Okay, good. Also? SUCK ON THAT doctors who said it would ruin his vision and cause him pain forever, sit and spin.

So I changed the subject and started regurgitating (dude, I spelled that right on the FIRST TRY!) what preschool newsletter said to be "on the lookout" around the room.

"Will you show me your play area?"

"Yeah!"

"Puzzles?"

"Yeah!"

"You're self-portrait?"

"Yeah!"

"Did you put your blue glasses on yourself in your portrait?"

"Yeah!"

To which Griffin chimed in, "Dar, I really hope you didn't draw a picture of me with blue glasses on."

Oh, the self-absorbed love runs deep in our family.

We got to preschool and got the grand tour. Then Darwin took us over to his self-portrait.


"Isn't it beautiful Mommy?"

"It sure it. But it says it's a rainbow."

"Yeah, I know. I forgot to put blue glasses on it. Oops!"

I Think You'll Get Used to it

After nearly a week of debating after our microwave bursting into a pathetic dismal motherfuckin' huge flame of nastiness, we've come to a conclusion.

We're not getting a microwave replacement.

Hells no.

Surely, no one would expect me to get an attached-to-my- house-let-me-climb-over-you-and-put-my-boobies-in-the-flames microwave again. No thanks. I like my boobies too much.

Instead, we're going old-school. We're getting a hood range.

Hells yeah.

Now, in order to have Aaron agree to this, I had to promise a microwave in the basement. For emergencies. Like, not being able to wait on the tea kettle for hot water. ::eye roll::

Also, we have to figure out what to do with the back splash. My vote (and it's going my way) is to paint it white if it's not tiled. Aaron wants to put up contact paper.

Can I get a "hells no" to that?

We Are Always Running for the Thrill of it, Thrill of it

It's no secret that pumpkin patch day is my favoritest day of the year. Although, this year I was a little bit surprised because we were going - late in the day.


Aaron likes to go before we've had a frost to kill the vines (so, he got his wish).

I like to go when it's not dusty (I did not get my wish).


And the kids had a blast.



There's only so many words necessary when discussing the awesomeness that is the pumpkin patch.

We Don't Need No Water

Two-thousand and eight will forever be known as The Year My House Revolted Against Me.

On Wednesday I was heating up some lunch and talking on the phone (ooooohhhh, multitasking) when all of the sudden plumes of smoke was coming out of the microwave.

"Uh, what the fuck?"

Angelina: "What?"

"Um.... my microwave is on fire?"

"YOU MICROWAVE IS ON FIRE?"

"Uh, yeah. It's smoking, and hey - look at that. It's orange inside."

"OPEN YOUR WINDOWS."

"Shouldn't I get my camera?"

"OPEN YOUR WINDOWS. THEN UNPLUG YOUR MICROWAVE."

"I can't unplug it. And all my windows and painted shut."

"OPEN YOUR DOORS, LAURA. GET OUT OF THE HOUSE."

"But it's contained..."

"OPEN YOUR WINDOWS AND DOORS."

"Okay, okay, I'm opening them."

"THEN UNPLUG IT." (Seriously, she was freaking out way more than I was.)

"I can't. It's plugged behind it - wait. Maybe it's plugged on top of the cabinet. Let me move my cocoas."

"UNPLUG IT, LAURA."

"Okay, okay, I am. Just did. Wait. Now the exhaust fan isn't working."

"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU UNPLUGGED YOUR MICROWAVE."

It's nice to have friends that dumb it down for you.

You know, I could have gotten a kitchen remodel out of the deal. But noooooooooooooo, I had to go and be responsible and not let my whole house catch on fire. The cabinets didn't even get any smoke damage and smell of burnt rubbery electronics has almost dissipated from the house.

And now I have to convince Aaron to install a new microwave. I told him we don't even need one - a range hood would be dandy, thanks. He's not going for it. Something about wanting instantly hot water or something. Because he's American and expects everything now, now, now.

Hello, Darwin's new favorite song...
where's my damn parenting award?