some items for your consideration

1. My hips are more cooperative than they were at this time last week. Thanks so much for your kind words and emails. The Internet People are so lovely.

2. I have developed a new marketing strategy for the Diva Cup, and it is called OCCUPY MY VAGINA. If the Diva Cup people aren't interested, I may pitch the p.0.r.n people. Those guys need at least one new idea. Or so I hear from the guy that does lights for The Mister.

3. I am not actually going to pitch any of my ideas, clever or otherwise, to the p.0.rn people. Just for the record. Real live people who live their real lives near me have been confrontational regarding my beliefs lately, and I would hate to cause any more disruption to them. And to me. But I will totally tweet this post tomorrow and I will @DivaCup because at the very least they should send me a spare to keep in my glove box JUST IN CASE.

4. Henry turned five. This is the first time in my life that only 25% of my short people are preschool-aged, and fortunately for me, I have 2.25 more years to enjoy it.

5. On Thursday, The Mister and I will celebrate our tenth anniversary. I use the word 'celebrate' loosely. What I really mean is that he will go to work before I get up, and I will likely disrupt him at work by phoning him four times to ask inordinately stupid questions highlighted only by my complete inability to form a cohesive sentence with my mouth and my surprising ability to completely forget every single word in my working vocabulary. After which time he will find himself working very late because it's Advent and he works for the Wesleyans and they are quite the overachievers. And then I will go to bed because it is very late and he will go to bed when he gets home.

And perhaps there will be a snacky treat for me when I get up the next day after he has gone to work, and perhaps I will only phone him three times instead of four. Because if I have learned anything in the last ten years, it is that The Mister's Love Language is NOT CALLING WHEN HE'S AT WORK FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SACRED. (That Language applied when he did not even work for Jesus in an official capacity, too.)

6. I have decided that when we are enormously wealthy and before the short people go away to be Responsible For Themselves, I will consider it mandatory that I have my own dedicated employee who will anticipate my wants regarding coffee, handle all of the laundry, and mop and vacuum every single day in addition to every time the people maliciously drop crunchy food items on the floor and crunch the items into a bajillion pieces with their feet. I would also like a giant-sized ironing board so I can iron enormous pieces of fabric without having to deal with the stupid pointy end of the ironing board.

7. Happy Tuesday, y'all.

some items for your consideration, part does anybody even keep track anymore?

1. You know when short people pretend they're not sick? Well, maybe they're not really faking, more like they're not entirely convinced they're sick? Elliott is trying his hand at that, poor lad. But on the plus side, he's a really great cuddler.

2. Elliott is also fascinated with eyebrows now, too, which means he's a fabulous Eye Poker-Outer. Big fun.

3. This week is my least favorite week of the year. And no, not because of Halloween, although I will admit that I am not a fan. The Mister always has a week-long gig, on top of working a normal full-time gig, so he is gone like the wind. I like to think of it as Single-parenting Appreciation Week, because I have a renewed perspective by, say, Monday evening, of how good I have it. All of you who take care of your babies and your homes and your jobs and never get a break? I have so much respect for what you do. And I get that you just have to do your life because it's your life, but it doesn't make what you do any less spectacular because you have to do it.

4. Speaking of Halloween, I am praying that it snows so that I do not have to take the short people Begging Door To Door For Candy They Will Not Eat Because I Got To It First.

5. I don't think there is such a thing as Too Much Rice. This is because I love me some rice. I would claim to be the Bubba Gump of Rice if I were into hyperbole, but my friend Rebecca already claimed that title and would probably tell you an embarrassing story about how I stood in her kitchen, eating a container of her adobo mayonnaise, one fingerful at a time, while making weird noises and faces. OH WAIT. (There's a freebie for you, Beccy.)

6. One of the short people has arrived at the stage where he or she finds it necessary to point out every detail of an experience and label it according to its value, which is a completely arbitrary measure. This is extremely irritating, and also, I have no idea where said short person acquired said skill. AHEM.

7. I would like to tell you about how I am feeling as if I have finally gotten the hang of homeschooling for the first time, but I wouldn't want to jinx it, so draw your own conclusions but do it quietly and not on my blog.  Please.

8.  I finished a superty adorable cardigan on Saturday, the first of a pretty large custom order, and it has cables and bobbles on it, which makes me feel kind of like Big Shot Knitter Pants.  Now I'm halfway through a bright yellow pullover for Henry.  Dude loves him some yellow.  I'll probably finish it this week.  He's all antsy.

9.  What are you up to these days?  I'm all out of the loop and stuff.  

i'm just going to skip to the interesting part.

Day Two of the second camping trip of the year.  Everyone had swum (what? is that even right?) until they could swim no more.  Each had eaten his or her fill of whatever hot dog/marshmallow/snackity things he or she could put his or her grubby mitts on.  

It was time for bed.

The Mister slept in the tent with us the previous night, but he had an appointment in the morning, and needed to go home.  The five of us snuggled down in our respective sleeping bags, and The Mister kissed each of us goodnight, said goodbye and hit the road.

A couple of hours later, I heard the sound of unfolding tarps next to my head, outside of the tent.  It had been threatening to rain, so we stacked our firewood on tarps and covered it all up so it would light.  Honest to goodness, I thought someone was stealing our firewood.  Why would I think that?  WHO KNOWS.  It was after midnight, and I'd been sound asleep.  So I just laid there, because if somebody needed to have my firewood that bad, they could have it. 

BUT THEN.  That somebody sneaked into the screened-in area of my tent.  And started going through my things.  I reached for my flashlight, and as luck would have it, the windows on the doors between the screened-in area and the sleeping area were not zipped up, and I could see what was going on.

I did not like what I saw.

A skunk was eating cookies.  Cookies that I made.  I do not like to make cookies, people, I really don't.  Cake? Yes.  Cookies?  NO.  I made a lot of cookies for this trip, and I stored them in a Tipperware container that clearly was left uncovered.

I slowly zipped the windows closed and laid back down on the air mattress.  I tried to go to sleep, really I did, but as it happens, the cookies were crunchy, and skunks are noisy eaters.  

FINALLY.   I heard the rustle of tarps, and the skunk was gone.  Peace and quiet had returned.  I think I dozed, but only for a moment, and for no reason at all I opened my eyes.

Something was moving inside the tent.  Except that I was laying very still, and the short people were all sound asleep, so really nothing should have been moving around the tent. 

I saw it clearly as it walked between Jack and Miss O.  THE SKUNK WAS INSIDE THE TENT AND IT WAS WALKING NEXT TO MY BABIES' FACES.  Precisely twelve million gazillion thoughts blazed through my brain.  I know this because I was laying very still and counting my thoughts because I needed something to do so I didn't FREAK OUT LIKE AN INSANE PERSON BECAUSE A SKUNK WAS WALKING AROUND IN MY TENT AND PLEASE, JESUS, DON'T LET THE CHILDREN ROLL OVER OR SNORE OR SNEEZE OR FART OR ANYTHING THAT WOULD CAUSE THE SKUNK TO SPRAY AND THEN WE WOULD GO BLIND AND DIE.

And because I was exceedingly awake by this time, I listened to the skunk exit the tent through the door that wasn't zipped closed when A Certain Someone exited the tent earlier on his way home.

When I was convinced the skunk was really gone, and my heart had started beating again, and I could, you know, STAND UP, I gingerly stepped over my babies and zipped the tent closed.  Then I texted That Certain Someone a message that isn't actually suitable for print.  He didn't respond.  Just like a man.

it's been a while.

So.  It was summer.  And now, it's still technically summer, but summer is actually over.  I'll tell you how I know:  I had to wear socks last week.  Three days.  I never wear socks in the summer.

The Mister was home all! summer! long! because he had an emergency back surgery situation that rendered him lump-like and unable to do things like LISTEN TO HIS BOSSES MICROMANAGE THINGS and WEAR A TOOL BELT.  Doctor's note and everything, y'all.  He did take the short people to swimming lessons every day, and after a while he started wiping keisters again, which was nice.  But mostly he cringed when the short people ran in his general direction and beat them off with a cane used an actual cane to define his personal space bubble.  It was very effective.

We took up camping, which means I spent many moons laying on an air mattress in a tent away from my veryown bathroom.  Most of the time it didn't suck, but when it did suck?  It really, really, really sucked.  I know, spoilerish alert.  Believe me, I didn't ruin the story at all by letting you know it sucked.

Jack turned six, and he's quite old and tall and he does Boy Things.  For example, Henry says to Jack, I think you should drop this croquet ball on my head.  And Jack says, That's the single most brilliant idea you've had all day, old chap, I'm happy to oblige.  And then DROPS THE CROQUET BALL ON HIS LITTLE BROTHER'S HEAD and also WONDERS WHY I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT THE SITUATION.

And since I'm ratting out the short people, one of my children approached her father at a party and said, Pops, I have a string that's bothering me.  Be a dear and allow me to borrow your Swiss Army knife to remove it.  To which Pops replies, Sure, darling, anything for you! and opens the Swiss Army Knife to the itty-bitty scissors, hands it to the short person, and stops paying attention.  Short Person sneaks off and GIVES HERSELF A HAIRCUT.  And then THROWS A FIT WHEN I MAKE HER A RECTIFYING-THIS-GOD-AWFUL-MESS APPOINTMENT at an actual salon and also WONDERS WHY I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT THE SITUATION.

We are making a solar system out of balloons for our next astronomy lesson.  I'm not sure how that is going to work seeing as how balloons aren't actually shaped like planets.  

Remember this?  I think I can top it.

some items for your consideration

1. New Sewing Machine. I love her. A whole freaking lot. Her name is Nina Bernina.

2. Another Busted Disc. This time, it's mine. Same one The Mister had surgery on. Some people wear matching shirts or share a hobby, but not us! We get matching boo-boos.

3. Narcotics. See item #2.

4. There is a super nice New York State Park near our house, and we got a season pass, so we go to the beach a whole lot. Last week, one of the lifeguards had to rescue a little boy. I was frightening and awesome at the same time, and I have never seen anybody move as fast as that guard did. Major thumbs up to the New York State Parks for hiring good people, training them well, and for keeping the parks open when many other states are not.

5. Fowl. We own ducks. And I'm sure this statement is going to result in more effbook mockery from that one guy who mocks us for having chickens and thinking about other unconventional pets, but whatever.

6. New Babies And Pregnancies. Four darling babies were born this month, and in the past two days I have learned that two of my friends will be having babies next spring. And before you get all crazy and start suggesting that we make us another wee Dayton, let me remind you that the likelihood that I even get to have a practice run at baby making is... Well... Dude just had surgery and My back is messed and there ain't gonna be no getting some 'round these parts.

7. Swimming Lessons. My town has a wonderful summer rec program with sports and crafty things and swimming lessons for the short people. On Wednesday, the woman who runs the pool approached me and said that more thN six people had complained to her the previous day because I had breastfed Elliott while the other kids were having their lesson. She handled the situation beautifully, and told the complainers that in NY, women have the right to breastfeed their children anywhere they want, and that she wasn't going to ask me to stop or to leave. How awesome is that? It's so rare to hear a story about breastfeeding in public where people know the law and do the right thing. And as an added bonus, I met a lovely mama who is just finishing her Lactation Consultant training. Super cool.

waiting to hear

The Mister is in the hospital tonight, getting big doses of drugs and being MRI-ed and other sorts of exciting Things and Stuffs. I am home with the Short People, all of whom are tucked into their beds. Well, Henry is tucked into my bed, because he doesn't like to sleep in his bed at night or on days that end in Y.

It is very late, and it seems I will just have to wait until morning for the official news about how broken he is.

Sad face.

some items for your consideration: the long-overdue edition

I realize it has been approximately ninety-eleven daysmonthsyearswhatever since I've been posting.  Sorry about that.  February was awful, and March was bad, and I had nothing clever to say.  It was just dark and icky, and I had nothing to say.  So I didn't waste your time.

However, here's a little catching up.

1. There have been MANY trips to various doctors in the past 8 weeks.  So far, I have fibromyalgia (which I already knew) and at least 15 ulcers because I'm a complete overachiever, and there are approximately four children in my house with varying degrees of constipation.  None of these facts are particularly awesome.  
2. Also not particularly awesome: my migraine meds are a no-no now that I have ulcers, as is spicy food, tomatoes, anything with fat in it, and coffee.  
3. Elliott Samuel, my most darling of darling babies, turned 2 this week.  We celebrated by going to a total of 4 doctor appointments, blowing our noses, doing nebulizer treatments, taking tylenol and going to bed early.  
4. Elliott Samuel, my most unsleeping of darling babes, who just turned 2 this week, also just began the beautiful practice of SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT.  Mostly.  Which means I've had to get up one time on two non-consecutive nights in the past 8 days.  
5. Last week was really sucky, but I got a little something in the mail from her, and a totally awesome dessert from her, and sat for an afternoon with her, and this guy cleaned my car, and my mother-in-law cared for the short people for about 20 hours because she's nice.  And, as if that is not enough, there were more lovely things that happened, like phone calls from people who noticed I've not been myself, and my MOPS mamas showing up on my doorstep with dinner.  I feel like I am forgetting something, but believe me, it's not from lack of gratitude, it's from the migraine I've not been able to shake for a day and a half.  I'm blessed.
6. Henry loves chickens.  I may have mentioned this before.  IN LOVE.  I ordered our meat birds and a few more layers because our laying hens are not actually LAYING EGGS and I think they should visit the pot but it doesn't actually seem to matter what I think because NOBODY WILL KILL THEM.  So I will just purchase more and more hens until someone is forced to take drastic measures.  I digress.  Henry caught me perusing the online catalog of chickenry and squee-ed and shouted LOOK AT THE NAKED NECKS!!!! LOOK AT THE NAKED NECKS!!!  And so I did and he swooned and now we own a naked neck hen.  The end.
7. More Henry.  Kid crawled up in my lap yesterday, wrapped his arms around my neck and said, Mama, I love you more than Elliott does.  I think you should know this.  
8. Homeschooling.  We are doing that thing, still.  The latest in a long line of objections and attempts to not do school is this:  But I can't find a pencil.  And yes, with extra whine and a side of whiney sauce.  It's really difficult to find a pencil in my house, I assure you.  Extraspecially challenging considering there is an enormous box with the word PENCILS written on it in extra-wide Sharpie, and that said box is filled to the brim with at least 200 brand new pencils.  
9. Just now noticing that I haven't mentioned the Wee Man yet... He has mastered drama, congrats to him.  Also, he would like me to do a criteria-unspecified Lego contest on my blog, and he would like to play old-school Super Mario Brothers on the Wii all day long.  Finally, he can beat the Sudoku game on my phone in under 5 minutes.  We're working on that.  Except the Sudoku.  I can't have my 5 year old beating me at Sudoku.
10. And The Mister.  The Mister ________________(verb) a ______________ (adjective) ___________________(noun) sometime before ____________________ (event) and we are not __________________________ (verb) very __________________________(adverb).
11. The Mister also introduced the phrase "Polish bubblebath" into the short people's vernacular this week.

That's the news.  And please, for the love of teh interwebs.  Tell me what's up with you.  I'm not up on your stories and goings-on, and I want to make sure you're all still here.

some items for your consideration; 7th edition

1.  I opened the oven door to put the pizzas in (of the traditional friday night pizza-and-a-movie fame) and discovered that the heating element was no longer working.  This is the equivalent to having my left arm broken, I think.

2.  The Mister worked. And worked. And worked some more.  This working thing isn't actually anything new.  But this week? It just seemed like a lot.

3.  I had an autoimmune disease flare of epic proportions.  (Did I ever tell you I have an autoimmune disease?  I do)  It started about two weeks ago, and reached its peak Friday and Saturday.  Everything hurt. And i had a migraine.  Only my joints hurt today, so I venture a guess that it's going away.  I hope.

4.  The short people were super helpful, though.  They did laundry and emptied the dishwasher.  They even made more dirty dishes and! Refilled the dishwasher.  and!  Fetched things all by themselves.  Le sigh.

5.  I'm sorry I alarmed you with my post mentioning Secret Things And Stuff.  It's all good, I promise.

6.  I am currently on a mission to commit clementine genocide.  You should fully expect to see me indicted at The Hague sometime in the middle of next week.  Genocide jokes aren't funny.  But the words The Hague and indicted are funny.  So it kind of balances out.

7.  I got a new phone.  It rings when people call.  This is something new and very exciting, as my previous phone had stopped ringing about three weeks ago, despite displaying that a call was coming in.  I had to pull the battery out, put the battery back in, turn the phone on, wait for it to start up, and then call the person back.  It was somewhat tedious, and by somewhat I mean OH MY HELL THAT'S EFFING ANNOYING ALREADY.

What's going on with you, my darling peoples?  

some items for your consideration, fourth edition

Item the First:  Thank you, so very much, for all the kind words you gave me this week.  Things do tend to look differently after bourbon, or in the morning, or in the morning after bourbon, which in this case is an air-quotes "in the morning" because it pretty much took until today for things to look upward enough to be convincing.

I think it's important to say so when things are not good, just as it's important to say so when things are good.  More than one IRL person told me this week they were totally surprised that I ever felt overwhelmed and inadequate.  Y'all.  Really.  I'm just a mama over here.  I might be a little more quirky than the mama over there and a little more straight-laced than the mama in the other direction, but we're all just mamas, right?  

And when you said, You're not alone, or I get this, or I know how this feels, you weren't just saying it to me.  You said it to other hurting mamas who needed to hear it just as badly as I.  

So thank you.

Item the Second:  In addition to having a bad case of The Whatever That Was Last Weekend, I found myself having a case of the _____________ which led me to schedule an appointment with my midwife, who also performs regular vaginal maintenance procedures.  (And no, the correct answer to the fill-in-the-blank is not BABY IN MAH BELLAH, so pipe down over there.)  I just really don't think that you need a clear description of All Things Southerly, so I'm just going to be a little vague, and you're going to be happy about it.

This was not my yearly exam, because, well, I didn't actually have a yearly exam in 2009, because I was doing something else that did not involve duck-billed anythings in my places.   Except it turns out that when you plan to attend the gyno only when you have a case of the ______________, she will take advantage of you when you are scantily clad and in a relatively immobile position to swish as many swab-ish things as she can in order to secretly conduct your yearly exam.  Big trickster.

But then?  Good news, people!  She upped my meds.  For those of you who don't know, I flat out lost my shit when I was six months pregnant with Elliott, and started taking a low-dose SSRI.  Turns out that flat out losing your shit when you're pregnant is an actual, serious medical condition called antenatal depression.  Time magazine wrote a really great piece about it last February.

But then?  Bad news, people!  She told me I'm fat.  No, she didn't say the Eff word exactly (or the other eff word), but she said something about 20, no 25 pounds and so really speedy quick I stuck my fingers in my ears and sang the Smurfs theme song.  Classy, I know.  I can't even help it!

Item the Third:  Christmas was nice.  Hope you had a lovely Christmas, too, if you're a Christmas-er, or that last Saturday was a nice, plain old boring day if you're not a Christmas-er.  And thank you to my internetty pals who sent us cards.  The short people would open them and say Who are *those* people? and we'd say Blog people, and eventually the short people would open a card, have a look, and say something ridiculous about Pretend People From The Computer.  Except for WRH's card... they jumped up and down and shouted about The Well-Read Son and The Well-Read Daughter and demanded to return to Philadeedelphia at once.  Heh.  Not with that attitude, missy.  And mistery.  Mystery... Oh never mind.

Item the Fourth:  It is bloody cold in my house.  This whole BEING CHEAP thing is not for me.  Thank GOD for my boyfriend, Colin Firth.  I pop that fella in the microwave for three minutes, and he warms me down to the tips of my toes.  Sometimes he warms only my toes, if I make him sit on my feet.  And you know what?  He's okay with that.  And he always cuddles and never asks for anything more, no matter how hot he gets.  You should totally get your own Colin Firth.  (Spoiler alert:  shameless plug.)

Item the Fifth:  Laptop or iPod Touch.  Discuss.

Item the Sixth and Final:  Plans for New Years' Eve are as follows:  Feed the children dinner.  Make some popcorn in our new Whirly-Pop thingy.  Pop a movie in the DVD player and cuddle in bed with the short people whilst The Mister mixes some random bar band and earns a pocket o'cash.  Bed by nine.  I know.  We're terribly exciting.

some items for your consideration

1. Elliott has learned the fine art of screaming MINE!!!!
2. My church got itself a new pastor and due to a very long story that has no bearing on this story, which resulted in the sending of a few emails back and forth between New Pastor and Moi, New Pastor spent some time here.  And told me it was "interesting reading".  I would rather get to know someone in real life through, you know, ACTUAL REAL LIFE, than to have my first impression be the dayton time.  And not because I'm somebody entirely different here, but there's a line between The Actual Pamela Dayton Time and the dayton time.  Hello, awkward.
3. Remember my What the Fark, Amazon? post???  (Please be advised I used my Bad Words, and lots of them... people were giving that disclaimer on the effbooks about that post... gulpish.) Anyway.  Dude got arrested.  Hooray, Florida Law Enforcement!!! 
4. My official assessment of the current homeschooling situation in my house:  DISMAL.
5. My official assessment of the homeschooling situation in my house come January:  BETTERISH.  At least it had better be betterish.
6. I played Hair Roulette with my gal pal who cuts my hair.  I said Cut! Color!  And she went to town on my head.  Pictures later, after I've showered, and applied makeup to the black rings under my eyes.  Because right now I look a little bit like this:
   
   
   
7. Wee Man has learned the fine art of Pushing People's Buttons.  I have learned the fine art of NOT BEATING HIM.
8. I mailed out Christmas Cards.  Not because I'm especially awesome, but because mailing Christmas Cards is the only item on my very long bucket list that I have accomplished this month.  Granted, I've only been cultivating the bucket list for about three weeks now, but still.  I'm one step closer to being able to sleep through the night without having a single, solitary reason to wake up.
9. And yes, that was a little morbid.  But I am at the point in my life as a procreating person where I honestly believe I will be dead before I sleep more than three consecutive hours.
10. Almost all of our gifts this Christmas are handmade by me, or us, or by someone else. Except the Legos for Wee Man, and the Stocking Snacks.  I am really happy about that.  And while it *totally* makes me look like someone who PLANS THINGS to say I started knitting for Christmas in MARCH, please know it was not on purpose and I just happened to be (illicitly) shopping for yarn and the first Yarn Purchase Justification I could muster was BUT I'M KNITTING IT UP FOR YOUR MOM. FOR *CHRISTMAS*.  And I'm pretty sure he knew I was grabbing at straws or strings or whatever you kids are grabbing these days, but it's knitted up.  For his mom.  So there.

little known fact

The Mister has our babies' footprints on his right shoulder.

thankful.

I am grateful for much.

But this tops my list.

****

And really? You should click the link.

It sends you to The Mister's blog.

some (more) items for your consideration

• (file under: thumbs down) One of my darlings climbs in bed with me every morning.  It is always the verysame darling, and it is always after The Mister has gotten up and gone to work.  I usually sleep on my left side, probably because I've been pregnant for a hundred years.  So the Sleep Ninja Darling cuddles up behind me, but instead of The Spooning, I get The Very Cold Toes Curled Over The Back Of My Pajama Pants.  You can't even call this Karma, because I have not given The Mister the cold feet treatment in almost ten years.
• (file under: der)  I have been going down into the Closet of Canning Bliss and Euphoria which is located in my Not Actually Euphoric Basement on a daily basis to retrieve jars of tomatoes and tomato sauce for my daily cooking.  Today, I was ABSOLUTELY FLOORED to discover that I had an entire shelf of home-canned tomato product IN MY ACTUAL KITCHEN.  The current spread is 5:1 that I do not remember this next time I am in need of home-canned tomato product.
• (file under: SQUEE) Four free turnips for me.
• (file under: we'll see)  HB will turn four in about two weeks from now.  That means I am ::THISCLOSE:: to having survived 75% of my children being age three.  And then I will have a 16 month respite until Elliott turns three. 
• I should probably apologize for my excessive use of the Eff Word in this here post from the other day.  Sorry.  It was completely intentional on my part, and they totally, and intentionally earned those eff bombs.  But it did earn me huge traffic was still inappropriate.  
• (file this under: get it done) Because of the Impending Birthday, HB got a letter from the ACORN or APPLE or BEECHNUT group at the public school telling him he gets to pick out a brand new book from the Elementary School Office.  Which means that I have to do my (past due) quarterly homeschool report for Miss O.  And also complete the paper that outlines the things we plan to do for the year.
• (file this under: get a kleenex) Do you read Fever? You should, and not only because I said so, but because Lora has This Way About Her and you will love her.  Start with the 11.11.2010 post.  I'd link it but I can't figure that one out at the moment.  But I trust you know how to Do The Scrolling Down, yes?   Excellent.  You're welcome.
• and finally. (file this under: it's about time, for crying out loud and also Pete's sake) There was one night this week that I did not get out of bed to go and fetch the nursling.  It was amazing.

some items for your consideration

1. Not a torn rotator cuff.  Instead, I got two thumbs up for a job well done (yay me!), from the Physical Therapist who diagnosed me with bicipital tendonitis, thoracic outlet syndrome, and bulging discs in my neck. Please do not attempt to be as awesome as me.  It will not turn out well.  Trust me on this. 
2. Something that may have happened at the dinner table in the past week, possibly at my house:  someone laughed so hard that he or she (statistically a he, considering) pooped his or her pants.  Also?  The same person may have been making ridiculous noises until that verysame person actually vomited on the kitchen floor.  And no. It was NOT ME.  Statistics, people, statistics.
3. I was THIS CLOSE to having a warrant out for my arrest.  Again, please do not attempt to be as awesome as me.  Living on the edge is only the teensy-est bit exciting.
4. My hair is totally ginormous.
5. The Mister has two musicals back-to-back, Les Mis this week and Oliver!!!!!!!!!!! (only one actual excitement point in the title) next week.  I'll see him sometime mid-November, which pretty much guarantees there will be no "Big Announcement" when our anniversary rolls around in December.  
6. I almost had a fist fight with a roadside construction worker on my way to Physical Therapy on Monday.  This has nothing to do with Item #3 (see above).
7. Elliott has become a maniacal social laugher.  Needless to say, the rest of the short people find this INCREDIBLY funny and have become maniacal ooh-let's-get-the-baby-to-laugh laughers, which had gotten old before it actually began.
8. I posted a status on the effbooks about offering $10 and sexual favors to the first person who would come to my house and make my television and dvd player talk to each other.  Thank GOD the only person who responded was The Mister.  Because that would have been awkward.  And he's such a nice guy he declined the money.
9. A friend of mine told me that the students who go Belfast Elementary School (Belfast, NY, not Northern Ireland... but possibly there, too, I don't actually know) are not allowed to run on the playground because some normal kid was (shocker) running superty fast and (shocker) tripped and (more shocker) got a bloody nose TWO YEARS AGO.  And forevermore nobody is ever allowed to run on the playground ever ever again.  I give them two thumbs up for being stupid.  (I did type 'stupid jackasses' but then I remembered my rule about something or other and decided to delete it.  Being a grown-up is hard work.)
10. The chickens are scheduled for a nice beheading, and a hot date with the slow cooker.  Yee haw.

What's up with you?  And I'm serious, people.  I want to know.  Last time I asked you didn't even say anything.  So chop-chop with the typey-typey.

have i ever mentioned how i am the opposite of skilled with my left hand?

It's currently 5:30 in the morning, and I am awake.  I know, you're all Thank you, Madame Captain Obvious.  But really, people? if you do know already have a well-formed understanding of how 5:30 comes but once a day in my world, then you might want to dig a little further back in my archives.  (There's good stuff there, honest!!!)

And here is something that you should know before I continue: I am going to dispense with the whole FIXING MY TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS AND GENERAL CAPITALIZATION for the rest of this post.

It's a long story.

And it starts on sunday.  well, it started whenever the whole canning compulsion  began.  i'm going to blame it on the canning instead of on the stupids.

i got a ton of plums at teh market on friday for wicked cheap, and by that i mean 75% less than what plums were going for last year. so score and yeah, me!!!  but in order to can my plums, i needed to take the already canned stuff off my counter and put it on the shelves in the happy canning closet of bliss (aka basement).  so i loaded up a sturdy box with about a dozen full quart jars and hefted the superty heavy box downstairs and very carefully and lovingly put my pretty-pretty jars on the shelf.  and then i made another trip. and another and another and another and another...

and then the mister said MAYBE YOU HAD BETTER TAKE IT EASY, LADY. YOU ARE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF.
 
to which i replied in my out loud voice, OKAY. and with my inside voice WHATEVS, MISTER. I WANT THESE JARS IN THE BASEMENT, LIKE NOW AND STUFF, AND YEAH. SO THERE.  mostly because i think i know things, and also because i am known to be a little on the stupid side.

and then i got bored moving jars because walking down and up the stairs twenty or so times is tiring and not really all that fun.  so i stopped.  because i was good and ready.

and now?  i cannot move my right arm so well.  and by SO WELL what i really mean is not at all.  and when it is all dark out and i should be sleeping because the number of the hour is a single digit?  i find myself unpleasantly awake because of THE PAIN!!!! IN MY SHOULDER!!!! AND MY ARM!!! AND THE NUMB!!! AND THE SHARP ZIPPY SHOOTERS DOWN MY ARM!!!

and so i went to teh doctor which has really not been a happy experience of late, but my NP was very nice and every time she would poke me and move my arm and it would show her that i was broken she would say somehting zingy and a little sarcastic and i can really appreciate that sort of nonsense.

diagnosis: best case scenario = bad sprain, tiny rotator cuff tear.  worst case scenario = big rotator cuff tear.  heat, stretching a little than ice, prednisone and 600 mg ibuprofen three times a day.  ALSO WEAR A SLING FOR AT LEAST A WEEK, POSSIBLY TWO AND DON'T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING.

so this is going to be really awesome.  i know this for sure already, because i took my meds like a good girl before i went to bed except PREDNISONE + BEDTIME = TOTALLY AWAKE AT 4 AM TIME.

i was fortunate to make the discovery (after emptying the dishwasher with my left hand only... try that sometime if you have an hour to kill) that i can comfortably type on my laptop, which is happy because i was doing the LEFT HAND PECKING THING on our desktop last night and it totally sucked.

and now the mister's alarm is going off upstairs and nobody is in bed to punch him and tell him to turn it off.  poor mister.

so anyway.  here's what i really need:

1. someone to come hang out and fold some laundry and wipe some keister and make some food and put away the stack of bowls that was too heavy to put up in the cupboard
2. someone to punch my husband (very kindly adn with lots of love in their heart) and ask him to please turn his alarm off before everybody wakes up
3. way better drugs than flipping prednisone and stupid ibuprofen. but maybe it's good that this hurts in such an unholy fashion because i will remember that next time i think about doing something.

alarm. still. beeping. maybe i'll call him.

first dance

what song did you choose for the official first dance at your wedding?

i'm not whining, honest. i'm explaining my feelings.

There are so many houseflies this year.  And I have terrible aim.  Also I have terrible depth perception.  I'm guessing those are totally related. 

The humidity has sucked my last four remaining brain cells out of my head.  With them have gone the following: energy, motivation, ability to form complete sentences, and also the capability to fold and put away laundry.  Fortunately I still have an appetite.

My children are suffering from an entirely intolerable affliction: not staying asleep when it is dark out.  Also not going to bed ::cough cough::Miss O::cough::  Elliott is teething and learning to walk which is causing some sort of non-sleeping stress in him.  He wakes up very upset about 45 minutes after he falls asleep, and nurses frantically, then will go back to sleep for 45 more minutes if I put him back in his bed... but if I don't, he will doze for a moment or two and then smack me in the face whilst laughing maniacally until I wake up to play with him.  It. is. brutal.  Henry B has been growing like a weed (LIKE A WEED, not GROWING WEED, he's three for Lord's sake), and that is causing him to be very needy, resulting in a desire to have his back rubbed whilst lying on top of me.  This would not be so inconvenient if I were not breastfeeding around the bloody clock.  Should it happen that I am engaged in the act of breastfeeding when he MUST!!! HAVE!!! HIS!!! BACK!!! RUBBED!!! he will throw himself on the nearest flat surface and kick and wail and tear his clothes and don sack-cloth and put ashes on his head until he passes out from exhaustion or until I am finished with Elliott.  

Good times, people, good times.

Miss O also comes into our room at random intervals to fetch her stupid, enormous, wretched sweet kitty.  Or get in bed with us, and I don't know about you, but nothing makes me feel like cuddling more than sleeping with a 7.5 year old human goat.  So nice, and softy, except for the ELBOWS. AND KNEES. AND FEET.  AND HEAD BONES.  Gah.  And when she comes for the cat?  She stands by my side of the bed, snapping her fingers and clicking her teeth at the cat.  AND THE CAT NEVER ACKNOWLEDGES HER, even if she stands there for, say, ten minutes, which she will, because the cat does not take kindly to being picked up and moved.

Fortunately, it is only I who am bothered by these nighttime rompings.  The Mister, bless his heart, sleeps like the dead.  Not like the actual dead, but the sort of Mac Truck Snoring Lip Smacking Teeth Chewing Long-Legged Dead, which might be worse than sleeping with an actual dead person.  Because you could probably shove an actual dead person out of the bed, and the actual dead person would kindly be very quiet and let you try to sleep in peace, same as they are.

I'm tired. My head still hurts.  Things are making me cry, and people, I am not a cry-er. I am taking things personally and reading into unreturned phone calls, being not invited and people's busyness.  My friends are busy and wah, wah, wah, they are doing other things like taking their kids to the hospital for tonsil removal, or taking their kids to day camp, or having obstetric appointments, or going camping, or this or that or the other thing.  I have friends RIDDLED WITH AUDACITY, I tell you.  

Points will be awarded to people whose comments make me laugh.  And bonus points for wet drawers.  Conversely, I will likely kick your teeth in if you even suggest that I want my husband dead.   That's all.

yeah. last week. about that. also, this is a long post, but highly entertaining if you're one of those monkeys that works for an organ grinder. or if you're me.

You may have heard that my town had a great big partay this past weekend.  (What? I totally blogged about it... even made it a contest... with a superfab prize... That's right, you'll go and check it out. I know you want the taffy.)

But that was just the weekend.  There was *SO* much more.

I was sick.  (insert sad viola music here, because a violin is never as sad as a viola)  Two weeks ago, my people had The Strep. SuperGrossDisgustingVile Strep.  The doctor looked at my throat and said something about it looking like I was getting the strep, too, but it wasn't bad enough to warrant a prescription, since I probably wouldn't fill it anyway, and I should just call her when I feel like death and have come down off my high prescription-free horse and want the drugs.  Paraphrasing there, people.  But I would totally go to a sassy-pants doctor like that.  It would be awesome.

So I finally got The Strep.  And I'm pretty sure I had a sinus infection, and I couldn't breathe, and I wanted to sleep all the time, and I was an UTTER FREAKING JOY TO BE AROUND.  Just ask my short people.  Also, my allergies.  And the 100 degree temperatures, which are NOT NATURAL, people, I swear... this sort of heat never happened before we all sprayed the crap out of our hair with that Aqua Net stuff in the 80's.  And by "WE" I mean all of you, because I was not allowed to use hairspray in the 1980's.

One day, I took a Ben.adryl and it was only by the grace of God that all of my children survived that day.  Because I am a lightweight, that's why.  On Tuesday, I was too tired to drive across the county to pick up the milk from our cow (I can elaborate on that another time if you so desire), so The Mister packed up the short people, who started doing BAD THINGS IN THE CAR almost immediately.  And instead of laying my sick self down and taking a nap, I did two loads of laundry, hung it up on the clothesline, weeded my vineyard, and tied up all of the grapevines that were laying on the lawn.  Because I'm clever, that's why.  On Wednesday, I took the short people to the children's play museum because in the afternoon, it's totally dead, and I can just sit in the baby area with Sweets and the bigger short people can play and leave me alone.  Except on this day, the Reptile Man was there, and the place was swamped.  Also there was a fire drill.  Fail.  Something happened on Thursday, but I may have been asleep.  And The Mister, bless his heart (and I say that as a Northerner, not a Southerner, so I actually mean it) worked all day Friday at his normal job, all Friday night at his other job, all day Saturday at his normal job (weekend edition), all Saturday night at his other job, and all day Sunday at his normal job (weekend edition).  He has today off.

Thank God, because we all need a break from all of that.

Also, on Friday and Saturday, I had a GINORMOUS baking order to fill (sorry, Gumbo... ran out of whole wheat).  The final tally:  12 loaves of regular bread, two loaves each rosemary bread and cinnamon raisin bread, and approximately 80 cinnamon rolls.

There is good news.  Despite eating my weight in Nacho Cheese Doritos this week, I have lost a ton of weight, and when we were at Family Swim Wednesday night, the bottom half of my bathing suit KEPT FALLING OFF.  Maybe that's not such good news.  And no, I don't have any pictures.  And no, I cannot apologize to you for not having any pictures, because I am not sorry for that and neither are you, if you are truly honest with yourself.

This week is shaping up to be much different.   Today, I put laundry away.  And yes, that will take all. dang. day.  Tuesday, I will deal with 75 pounds of cherries.  That means jam, pie filling, cherries in a jar with sugar and booze... Wednesday?  Well, that's a WHOLE 'NOTHER POST.  But it is shaping up to be completely awesome, so you'll just have to come back tomorrow and I'll tell you about it.  Thursday, something is happening but I can't remember what it is... seems to be the way Thursdays go around here.  On Friday we are meeting my college friend and here team for dinner.  I haven't seen her since, like, last year when I graduated college, because I'm totally not old enough to have graduated when I may have graduated.  Or actually graduated.  And on Saturday, Jenny Minnesota of Coconut Belly Fame is bring her WHOLE!!! ENTIRE!!!! TEAM!!!! to my house.  Unless you live by Jenny Minnesota of Coconut Belly Fame, and then she will totally be home all weekend so don't even think about it, you thieving bastard.

What? You want to bring your team to play with my team?  WHY DIDN"T YOU JUST SAY SO!!! We'd love to have you, unless you firmly believe in personal hygiene and that children should always wear undertrousers.  Because then we might have a teensy problem.

the tuesday scoop

The Mister is working second shift this week because of PAINTING!!! and BUSY!!! and DEADLINES!!! And it's kind of nice, because he gets to be around during the time of day when the short people are nicest, and because today I got to sleep in superty-late, and because the house is mostly clean and because I haven't done laundry.  And it's kind of not nice because, ummm, normal routine, where are you? Except cereal for dinner because I'm lazy is sort of refreshing.

Do you see the little roller coaster I have going on here?  Except it's driving all over my head and making me tired.  Not as tired, or the same brand of tired as I was last night after taking all of the short people to Family Night at Ye Old Pool, where we swam hard and played like a bunch of crazies for an hour and a half whilst wearing Elliott in a makeshift pool sling.  

I lost about fifty pounds last night and also I am a cripple from BOUNCING!!!! AROUND!!!! IN THE POOL!!! WITH A BABY TIED TO ME!!!! AND BOYS JUMPING ON MY HEAD!!!   I stand up with the grunting of an old, constipated granny, and my walking is more reprehensible than when I was ten point nine months pregnant with Wee Man.  

And I was reading blogs because eighty percent of my people are not home and the other twenty percent is sleeping, (and I hurt too much to anything else but lay around like a slug) and everybody's writing about babies turning one and measuring years in heartbeats, or having a complete wanker for an ex-husband and all sorts of other things that are causing my little brain roller coaster to slide around the tracks in a melancholy sort of way. 

In other news, I promised HB spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and I'm going to admit something entirely and completely horrifying to you:  I am going to purchase fake, chemical-filled meatball-ish things from the store.  And sauce, too, which is the hugest rip-off EVER and doesn't actually taste good no matter which brand you choose or how much money you pay for it.  Also, while we are at the store, I am going to purchase some of that garlic bread that comes in the foil bag and is laced with crack.  Because if you're going there, go ALL THE WAY.  

Send help.  Immediately.

my baby daddy

Thanks for this:

and this:

and this:

and this:

And for showing them that men can do this:

(actually washing dishes, he is!)

And thanks for wearing our babies,

and not minding when the boys vacuum the house...

in dresses...

And thanks for seeing me like this:

...and capturing it so I can see me like this.

But most of all, thanks for being a daddy who does this.

::kiss::