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?

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?