A Month, You Say?

Really? It's been almost a month?

...

Wow. So that... happened.
...

I don't have good excuses or flowery prose to describe all the very intense reasons I haven't had time to post lately. Someone thought I must be exaggerating the other day when I said my days are scripted down to 5 minute intervals.

I wasn't.

But today was supposed to be spent with extended family, eating the Secret Gumbo Recipe and lounging in front of the fire. Instead? OH, the universe has funny plans sometimes, and now we're snowed in. People, there are a good 10 inches of snow on the ground with more falling and no sign of let-up soon. I gave in and made belgian waffles and now the boys are snuggled up downstairs watching Frosty the Snowman on DVR. I recorded it last night.

In lieu of coherent words to string together for you, allow me to ramble like a tired hobo and share with you some of my infinite wisdom. Or, as a once and never friend once shouted at me to my dismay, 'You know a lot, but you don't know everything'.
But I do know a lot that is dubiously useful! My useless trivia - let me share it with you!

1) Clarinets. Have you ever noticed how much more adeptly they were used for comedic musical effect in the sixties? You hardly ever hear a wry clarinet solo in today's modern television and holiday specials. It's a travesty, really. (See: Frosty the Snow Man, circa 1960's)

2) Dog sweaters. You mock them until you get sucked in, and then the next thing you know you are squeezing your poor pooch into a too-small turtleneck sweater that she probably outgrew about 3 months ago just because it's adorableyou are demonically compelled she's freezing. Really.

3) This probably doesn't deserve its own number slot, but I Just realized we probably don't have enough toilet paper to make it through to the other side of this blizzard. I guess we'll start with the dog sweaters and then move on to the dogs...

4) Thankfully, we are all stocked up on sugar. HOLY DIABETES, People! I'm 10 pounds down on the yellow brick road to my pre-baby figure, and the entirety of my acquaintances are attempting to sabotage this progress with a never-ending parade of Christmas Fudge, cookies, candy canes and festively wrapped Hershey Kisses. Okay, most of those might have been intended for the children but what sort of responsible parenting would THAT be -- for me to let the kids gorge themselves sick on sugar and die of a diabetic coma? I'm self-sacrificing, really. It was just taking one for the team. Also, I might have just busted the button on my new "look - I lost 10 pounds!" pants. (I can neither confirm nor deny.) (Totally Unrelated Side Note: if you happen to see a green khaki button somewhere on my kitchen floor, please set it aside for me along with my dignity.)

5) Okay, fine. I also split open the seat of my jeans at the post office. It wasn't pretty. Thank God for hoodie sweatshirts large enough to double as impromptu butt-skirts.

6) A few weeks ago an elderly Asian neighbor was out on the corner dancing around at 8 am. In his boxers. I was ready to make a non-emergency call to the police department or stop to see if he needed help when I realized he was actually doing martial arts exercises. Man was like 70 years old, but as I got closer I realized he was ridiculously muscular and also scarily good at roundhouse and vertical kicks. And exercising at 8am in his underwear. I think that might be my favorite thing I have seen all year.

7) I don't think I really have a 7, but I was getting into the groove and trying to think of something else useless to share with you. I mean, this snow isn't letting up any time soon, and my husband keeps muttering something about "vacuum" and "laundry" like I'm supposed to be able to focus on something so mundane when we're all probably about to be marooned in our house with nothing but a frozen turkey and box of fudge for sustenance. Hrm. I wonder if the sweater should be removed before one attempts to roast a small dog. Just, you know, as a purely academic exercise....

No charge for the wisdom imparted, just maybe send some moose jerky and few handfuls of dried berries. And if you don't hear from us in a few days, we've either frozen to death in the new tundra that was our home OR we've headed for Fiji and warmer climes. But probably the first one.
Cheers, everybody!

Absence of Writer and Abs.

Wow, you guys. I am really bad at this. THIS. You know! *gestures vaguely around*

The last weeks and months have been a blur of capital BUSY. I wake up, I get the kids to school, I run around and do errands and chores and start my work day, I pick Toby up, I work all afternoon, pick Jack up from school, settle the kids in with snack, get dinner started, eat, put kids to bed, and end my evening in a vegetative state in front of the television.

Lather, rinse, repeat - 5 days a week.

And the thing is, really, truly, it's fantastic. I'm frazzled, I'm exhausted, and I'm having trouble keeping straight the day of the week or remembering when I last put on mascara... and I honestly feel like I am in my element, at last. I really do. I'm earning a paycheck and helping support my family, I have purpose every minute of my day, and despite the fact that nearly all of my favorite pasttimes have had to be put on hold for the moment, I am about 99% content. And still managing to love and smooch my charming offspring and spouse and not yell nearly as much as I usually do.

I am also 100% in need of a way to find time to update this here blog regularly, because my brain pan is getting pretty full and I really do require the exhaust valve of WRITING. Even bad writing. And technically speaking, I *could* have spent Midnight to 3am last night doing that - the writing thing - but it was otherwise earmarked for... (*looks around to be sure we are alone, then leans in and says in semi-shamed whisper*) the Twilight - New Moon movie.

THERE! I said it. Also, in case you are interested, the award for best acting officially goes to Taylor Lautner's abs because OH-EM-GEE. I think I had my first cougar moment. Seriously, thanks a lot Chris Weitz for throwing that in my face and reminding me that I am too, too old to be drooling over jail bait. JAIL. BAIT. And yes, if a 30-year-old man was drooling vocally and publically over a 17-year-old actress I would be totally disgusted and probably call him bad names. I feel the appropriate level of shame for squealing like a tween at several key (and usually shirtless) moments in the movie. And I have to live with myself now!

And yet ...still totally toying with the idea of making a cafe press shirt that says "Team Jacob....'s Abs" because HALLO 8 PACK! And while we're at it... Hallo the rest of you shirtless werewolf types! And, uh, a casual nod in the direction of Edward's shirtless torso because.. meh. Rob? Honey? We both know I've been faithfully adoring you from afar these many months... But, Sugar? I REALLY hope you did a few sit-ups between New Moon and Eclipse. Pasty White is not easy to wear well -- trust me, I'm an expert on the particular subject -- but my eyes are still kinda sore from the glare of Shapeless Shirtless Edward after basking in the glow of the Honey-Rich Buffness of the aforementioend shirtless werewolves for the other 2 hours of the film.

Also, note to self, apparently there is a very good reason I don't usually go see movies after 11pm. That is obviously prime "Crazy" time for developing inappropriate crushes on teenage movie actors and composing abstract monologues to fictional vampires with sadly non-six-packed fishbellies.

Aaaaaand... at least for now.... that's all she wrote.

Alive and Kicking.. and Maybe Biting.

I swear I'm still here. Just very, very tired and attempting to keep up with the pace that these men in my life are setting for me. It's not easy.

Especially when two of them are running circles around me most of the day, attempting either to strangle each other or pile on the dog.

Fear not, however, for I shall return. Soon. With more brilliant and fascinating parenting tales. Like how Jack is learning to wipe his own behind after making magic in the potty.

And yes - I really did marry a man who refers to that particular activity as "Making Magic". And I still consent to sleep with him on occasion. Even though he is passing this mystifying colloquialism on to our children.

But he also washes dishes, so really... like so many things in life... it's a trade-off.

Like how you, dear internets, wait to see what else I will come up with or what catastrophe will yet strike our little family. It's like watching a train wreck, isn't it? You want to look away, but you're captivated against your will.

Also probably a fair description of what is must be like to be married to me... the woman who shares your personal scatalogical vernacular with the world.

In truth? I'm fairly cartain that, beyond the oft-mentioned impressive rack, he only puts up with me because I will play video games with him and because we both like our steaks a bit bloody in the center.

I'm a catch, y'all.

A Mom's Daily Discourse. (Condensed)

Maybe I could save my breath and just make them watch this once a day...