Why You Make-A-Me Work So Hard

Griffin is upstairs, in his room, screaming his head off. Thrashing is involved.

Because I won't let him scream his head off in the living room and I sent him upstairs, his hissy fit is multiplied by fifty. At least. And that's damn impressive.

The fit has something to do with Legos. Maybe Darwin broke something he made? Really, I don't give a fuck.

Rule: if you don't want anyone messing with something, PUT IT UP.

Rule: don't bitch about it if they do because you didn't put it up.

Oh my hell.

Four more fucking hours, four more fucking hours, four more fucking hours...

Ah F-F-F-Foolin'

While I was on the phone with a friend...

"Hey Mommy, who are you talkin' too?"

"I'm talkin' to the gypsies, Griffin. We're trying to agree on a price for you."

"Oh.... I DON'T WANT TO BE SOLD TO THE GYPSIES! Wwwwaaaaaaahhhhhh! DON'T SELL ME TO THE GYPSIES! I'D MISS DADDY TOO MUCH!"

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Daddy! BECAUSE HE'S NOT THE ONE SELLING ME TO THE GYPSIES!"

"But it's because of HIS five-week business trip that I need to sell you to the gypsies!"

(One more day, oh my heavenly fuck, one more day.)

And I'm Giving All My Love to This World

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Griffin?"

"I can't wait to go to the art fair!"

"Great!"


"Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"If I meet an artist I like, can I invite them over to look at my art?"


"Mommy?"

"Yes, Griffin?"

"This one really isn't art. I don't like it."

"Why?"

"Because it looks too much like real life. Art shouldn't look like real life."

Alrighty, then.


"Mommy, we need to hang your art in the playroom."

"No, I think we'll hang it in the living room."

"But! I want it in the playroom with my art."

"I know that, Griff. But we should have art throughout our home, not just in the playroom."

And I Feel Like I Just Got Home

{Before}



{After}



Those damn curtains took me nearly all damn weekend to make them. Including countless times of sending naughty-naughty children to put their noses in the corner. And ironing. And sewing on the kitchen counter. And pinning the fabric on carpet. And dust (god damn, those old ones were gross).

But it was so totally worth it.

If You Start Me Up, If You Start Me Up I'll Never Stop

Holy fucking shit, y'all.


The fabric is getting cut.

And I'm sniffling.

There is Something Goin' Down

On the walk to get Griffin from school today...

"Hey Darwin, can you sing your ABC's?"

"Yep! A, B, C, D, E, M, N, O, P, X, Y, Z!"

"Um, let's try that again, okay?"

"Otay!"

"A, B..."

"A, B..."

"C, D..."

"C,D.."

"E, F..."

"E, F..."

"G, H..."

"G, H..."

"I, J..."

"I, J..."

"K, L.."

"Karate!"

"M, N..."

"Karate!"

"O, P..."

"Karate! Karate! KARATE!"

"Q, R.."

"KaraTE!"

"S, T..."

"Karate chop!"

"U, V..."

"Karate!"

"W, X..."

"Karate chop-chop!"

"Y and Z."

"Karate! Let's do that again, Mommy!"

She Can Roll with the Punches Long as She Feels Like She's in Control

Operation De-Poopify the House is underway.

My house is way too brown. Or, at least, the living room is.

Now, if you went and looked at the pictures, please note the big massive wardrobe is back in the entry room and the entry room has been painted a mossy green. Oh, and those brown end tables are on either side of the couch.

This weekend I bought seven yards of pretty fabric to replace my hideous drapes. Good gravy, someone liked depressing drapes, didn't they?


Whew, that's gonna be so much better when completed.

I have lots of ironing to do, obviously. And I have to figure out which sheet to use for the backing or if I need to purchase something else (please, sweet baby universe, let a thrifted sheet be long enough, amen).

Also? Me thinks I need to take new pix of the room. Those are way out dated.

And also? We need to have a vote -- I think I want to tear down this flower arrangement thingy that was left by the last owner, over seven years ago. It's been bothering me for... oh, since we moved in.

Hey, if "Capello" doesn't stand for "productive" and "on the ball" and "making her house her home immediately after purchasing it" I don't know what does.

Something in Your Eyes Calls to Mind the Silver Screen and All its Sad Good-Byes

Aaron's gone. ::sigh:: Again. ::sigh:: For at least another week. ::sigh::

I don't know if I'll survive if I continue to huff and puff. ::sigh::

Griffin is doing much better, now improved with normal poops!

He's really gonna love me in 10 years, I just know it.

Apparently over the course of relaxing and fighting over Legos all weekend (my Legos are my Legos, I am not required to share), Aaron and I caught Griffin's stomach bug.

Turns out you really don't want to eat or drink anything.

Unless you are me and come up with a magic tonic.


Also known as a mojito. Don't you fucking judge me.

It has everything in it to cure stomach ailments -- alcohol to kill the bug, simple syrup to help you metabolize the alcohol, club soda to make it fizzy and thus a drink for those who are sick and mint and limes for nutrients.

In fact, ::whine:: my stomach hurts. I think I need another.

Working Hard to Get My Fill

Griffin went back to the ER on Wednesday afternoon. I think it was Wednesday. Was it Wednesday? Fuck if I can remember anymore, it was about 12 hours after he was discharged the last time.

ANYWAY, so back to the hospital we went. And a phone call to Aaron. Something along the lines of get your fucking ass home now.

So, hospital. Yeah, two IV bags later and they still wanted to admit him for 24 hours. Griffin begged to come home and the doctors allowed it after eight hours.

Aaron got home Thursday morning, six hours after Griffin was discharged and then I went to bed. I had been up over 48 straight.

Aaron brought home gifts.


And I deserved every last bumpily goodness of my Lego gifts. EVERY DAMN LAST ONE.

I think I need another nap.

(Apparently, Griffin has some funky stomach virus. In the beginning, the doctors thought he had an appendicitis. But now they don't think so [it's still not certain]. The funky stomach virus has not fever, no nothin' except for not making them eat and drink. And then they get dehydrated. And then they get constipated. Then they are in really bad pain from the constipation. Griffin didn't eat or drink anything for over three days. I guess this virus is going around, so if you notice a kid not eating and drinking, BRIBE THEM. I made Griffin all his favorites -- bacon, homemade french fries, strawberries -- and offered him all the contraband food you could imagine, Pepsi, popsicles, he was having NONE of it. Punk ass kid. But! He is better now! Not great, but better.)

She Says She's Tired of Life, She Must be Tired of Somethin'

one husband + a three week business trip = batshit crazy wife

one child + achy belly + six hours = trip to urgent care

blood test + x-rays = inability to see appendix + high white blood count

inability to see appendix + high white blood count = trip to children's hospital ER downtown


three hours of waiting + contraband japanesse cartoons + cell phone = almost worse that drunk dialing

room in ER + nine hours of no fluids + needing an IV = five unsuccessful sticks

five unsuccessful sticks + one successful stick = unhappy child


radio active shots + CAT scans + more x-rays = inconclusive tests

inconclusive tests + really bad constipation - no appendix haloing = close to going home

IV bag + keeping sprite down = discharge papers

discharge papers + prescription + 20 minute drive home = puking in the car

getting home at 4am + cleaning child + puke in car + run to the pharmacy = mommy going to bed at 5am

baby waking up at 6am + realizing grandparents drank all the pepsi = sucks ass

crazed husband on 3 week business trip - child not having appendix surgery = husband not coming home early

husband coming on Friday + husband leaving on Tuesday + another 10 day business trip + sick constipated child = Mommy ready to be admitted into mental institution