I'll Be a Big Noise With All the Big Boys

I just got home from taking Griffin to Kindergarten Round-up. And guess what!

I already made my first enemy!

Score!

(Admit it... you are proud of me. Come on... admit it!)

While we were waiting for All The Excitement To Begin, Griffin and I were sitting minding our own business when this lady person sat down next to me with her daughter. Then her friend with her son sat on the other side of them.

The person-next-to-me's daughter asked the friend's son why he wasn't having a cookie. The friend replied her son was allergic to eggs.

At which point I chimed in, "Allergies are So Much Fun."

And she responded, "Oh yeah. What are you allergic to?"

"We are all allergic to wheat, but my boys are allergic to tons of stuff."

And then the person-next-to-me shrieked, "Well, it's way more difficult to be allergic to eggs than wheat."

"Yeah. No, its not."

"All you have to do is use tons of rice flour."

"Actually, it's slightly more involved than that."

"Eggs are in everything."

"Really? Last time I checked eggs aren't in canned beans. Or in chocolate bars. Or coated on gum. Or added into spices. Eggs are not in cheese, or pop, or in french fries. Eggs are not added to sour cream as a stabilizer or fruit drinks. Are you sure? Really? That eggs are in everything? Because I KINDA THINK YOU ARE WRONG."

"Well!" ::sigh::

Little Miss Polyanna with her hair in a perfect ponytail and her perfectly white leather keds and mom jeans and Fourth of July sweater got all sorts of huffy and puffy with me and angled herself as far away from me as humanly possible while the principal talked to us.

As soon as she stepped out of the room, I heard someone behind mumble, "What a bitch."

And I quickly made a roomful of friends.

I'm a lot Like You, So Please, Hello, I'm Here, I'm Waiting

It's been a week since I've made anything and I'm starting to go crazy.

dogwood

I'm seriously beginning to realize how dependent I am on creating. Something. Anything. As long as once it's made, it's done being made. You know, not housework. Because that shit has to be done every day and is never complete. And that's driving me crazy too.

And yes, the only reason why I'm barely hanging on is because I'm writing here. I've discovered I really spaz if I cannot write. Even Aaron says so, "Woman, why don't you go write something and calm down."

Ahem.

I'm even noticing, though, that creating on the computer isn't cutting it. Of course, I'm sure that has nothing to do with my immediate gratification issues and lack of patience. Of course, I'm not really creating with my hands which means that anything on the computer doesn't quite have the same gratification as something real, something tangible. Something I can pass to another person and they can feel it.

Grrr... sometimes it feels like more of a curse than a blessing. What's so damn wrong with me that not making something makes me feel absolutely inadequate and useless? There's plenty of people roaming this earth who don't have the need, the drive, the all-consuming-obsession of creating.

My Hump, My Hump, My Hump, My Lovely Lady Lumps (Check it Out)

This morning I had to get up with the ass crack of dawn.


Which around here translates to 6:30 am (a-mother-fucking-m, people).

Griffin had an insanely early dental appointment because I noticed some dark spots and Totally Freaked Out and decided he needed to be seen As Soon As Possible because my baby! My baybeeee! My baybeee! Will die! Because! He! Has! Spots! On! A! Tooth! A horrible and painful early death! And he would leave me without having made me grandbabies first! Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!

And apparently, the dental place took my need for him to be seen as soon as possible to be translated to early in the morning, when civilized people ARE STILL ASLEEP.

Time is a River Rolling into Nowhere

I think I may have broken my children.


They are constantly whining, we're tired, may we please go inside and watch cartoons now? and all this outside time is getting to be too much. Wah, wah, wah, we are playing out side too much, wah, wah, wah. Woe is me, woe is me, fresh air and sunshine, wah, wah, wah.

This weekend we've spent lots of time outside. Which is actually unusual for us, considering our horrible allergies (and trust me, I'm paying for it right now with arm wrapped protectively around a box of puffs plus, with a gargantuan pile of snotty tissues in front of me; ahem). But this weekend I decided to throw caution to the wind.

Caution. To. The. Wind.

Walks around the block! Pulling weeds! Playing with sidewalk chalk on the driveway! Pulling weeds! A trip to Lawrence for me! Pulling weeds! Lots and lots of weeds! Eight bags of weeds! Walks to Griffin's future school! And did I mention pulling weeds?!

Of course this has caused a flurry of other problems (not just my new found obsession with boxes of tissues), as my legs have now also decided that seriously I need to lay the fuck off the weeding.

The muscles are all we hurt and stop this and why the fuck are you using us now?! and we want to sit on the couch. Wah, wah, wah, my muscles don't like being used, wah, wah, wah. Boofuckinghoo.

And right now? Right now Darwin and Griffin are looking out the window begging the clouds for rain.

So I've seen this meme around, stuff about Real Moms. No one tagged me, of course, but that's not going to stop me from participating.


Well, real moms don't mind when little boys pick flowers for them out of the garden.

Even when they are stolen from the school down the street.

Ahem.

She Couldn't Quite Explain it

"I'm an idiot. I stayed up until 3am last night."

"What the hell were you doing, Aaron?"

"Well, I was working on ideas for Griffin to learn his letters and numbers better."

"Uh-huh..."

"And then I was thinking it would be really cool to correlate the colors of the numbers to resistor color codes."

"Huh?"

"To color the numbers, zero through nine, to the resistor color codes. Because, you know, Griffin needs to learn that too."

"Yeah. A five year old really needs to learn electrical wiring shit along with his letters and numbers."

"Hey, don't make fun of me. The sooner he has exposure, the better. How else are we gonna raise mega-nerds?"

You Think You've Got the Right, But I Think You've Got it Wrong

Yesterday the fabulous and wonderful Alicia, who lives just down the road, posted that her neighbor's magnolia tree was flowering.

My head started tick-tick-ticking because that's not a magnolia tree, that's a tulip tree.

So I was all set to leave her a snarky comment (which seems to be my calling this week, as I left Kirsten comment about what kind of sexual favor she'd want to get some of her awesome robot patches and she verbally spanked kindly reminded me that her mother reads her blog and would I please mind my language and why in fuck's name the world was my linky goodness not updated, because didn't she rock too? To which I replied of course you rock and quickly updated all of my Others Who Rock as to get out of providing any sexual favors for some patches because I? Actually don't swing that way. Sorry ladies), but before I did I decided to make sure I was right before doing so.

It's okay to make an ass of myself on my own site. But someone else's? Nuh-huh.

Turns out we are both right.

my neighbor's tree, Alicia and I both have awesome neighbors with good tastes in trees

These are in the magnolia family, also called magnolia saucer trees. They are also referred to as tulip trees.

Which gets rather confusing, because the lirodendron is also called a tulip tree. And guess what! It is also in the magnolia family. And guess what else! Alicia has one in her backyard!

Call me an excited gardening nerd. Learning is fun.

who's the pretty lilac? who's the pretty lilac? you are! you are!

I've been trying to document the garden a lot this spring, as I hope to plant a ton of spring bulbs this fall. And by fall my yard is a jungle.

friday lego love

Follow the Lines and Wonder Why There's No Connection

Thirty comments yesterday and I didn't have to perform any sexual favors?

Awesome.

And, thanks!

All week the four of us have been suffering from some sort of allergy-induced feverish bullshit that has pretty much rendered us boring snot-infested slobs (which we are blaming on the greenhouse, the new family escape goat). To help the matter, it's been fabulously dark, cloudy and rainy which I love, but makes for no photography because everything turns out looking blurry. Which? Blech.

And? This has been dubbed the most awesome spring break ever. Wearing pajamas everyday, curled up with a box of puffs plus and quarantined from the world.

(That? Right there? Is called sarcasm.)


In case you haven't noticed, I haven't talked about the Aquasaurs in a while. That's because there weren't any. One day there were eight things alive, the next day nada.

A few days ago Aaron threw some more eggs stuff in there and now there are all sorts of stuff swimming around in there. Really, very, horribly disgusting.

Once again, they look like sperm. Two-eyed sperm. With fork tails. And they don't swim straight, so when they move really fast they look like dysfunctional sperm that have no chance in hell of ever finding the egg.

It's Gonna Take a lot to Drag Me Away From You

Am I the only person having troubles with blogger lately? (Oh my heavenly fuck, blogger now recognizes "blogger" as a word! AMAZING.)

I've been unable to post, leave comments and WE DON'T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE FOUR HOURS I SPENT YESTERDAY TRYING TO UPLOAD MY NEW BANNER, which included lots of fists shaking in the air and proclamations of blogger being a cocksuckity cocksucker.

Ahem.

And bloglines doesn't seem to be working all that well for me either. Both of my feeds that I'm subscribed to haven't been showing my last two posts (yes, I'm subscribed to two of my feeds. What? You aren't subscribed to two of your feeds?). Which, of course, likely means it's not going to show this post and then I'm going to continue to suffer from High Comment Withdraw, side effects include less than 15 comments, constantly hitting the "refresh" button and feeling like a high school girl rejected for never being invited to a dance.

(And trust me, I know what that feels like. High school boys could never handle this.)

So, yeah. My life is exciting.

If you count cursing at the computer and wiping children's allergenic noses exciting. And watching tons of SpongeBob SquarePants. And drinking tea.

But hey! At least I finally scrapped yesterday after my six month sabbatical. So you all may very well be bored to death with oooohhhhing and aaahhhing over pages if my life doesn't get more exciting soon.

I Came to Get Down, I Came to Get Down, So Get Out Your Seat and Jump Around

So. Yesterday.

Yeah, yesterday.

Aaron went outside around lunch time to "work on stuff." I try to give him lots of time to "work on stuff" even though a lot of that time is spent staring off into space or raking when he should be mowing or edging when he should be raking or trimming branches when he should be inside watching the kids so I can sew or so we could have a nooner.

Point: I give Aaron lots of time to "work on stuff."

After he was outside for four hours and while I was downstairs doing laundry, I noticed Aaron pulling a support stud off the greenhouse.

Of course, this caused me to zip upstairs, grab the camera and head outside.

He tried pulling studs but then decided to leave them, then he wrapped a hose around a stud and that didn't work. Then he tried wedging something between the greenhouse and the house and that made the greenhouse tip towards the house, so then he had to put supports around it. Then he grabbed an electrical wire for one of the heaters, pulled on that and made the greenhouse dance back and forth.

The greenhouse boogied.

But Aaron was afraid it would dance itself into the garden. So then he removed another stud and starting throwing the stud at another weight-supporting stud.


I can't make this shit up.

So then he ran inside to get me the camcorder (which isn't digital, DAMN IT) so I could record him pulling the greenhouse down like this....


The actual Pulling Down The Greenhouse took about 30 seconds. I was outside for over an hour.

And Griffin wanted to do it again! and again! and again!

I'm glad it came down when it did, because look at our house damage...


HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

Hold me, internet, hold me. ::sob::

When the Walls Come Tumblin', Tumblin', Crumblin', Tumblin' Down