So Long, Farewell... NaBloPoMo

What a long, strange month it has been.

Big Daddy T has been absent for most of the month and, as it turns out, he will be leaving us again on Sunday. 10 more days in Singapore. The month of December is now defiled with this incessant business travel, but at least he'll be back in time for Jack's preschool Christmas Program.

Looking back over this year's NaBlo, I realize how much faster it has gone by. It's a different year, and life is getting busier with each one that passes. I had high hopes for 2007 and, while it wasn't the worst year or even a bad one, really, it certainly has not lived up to some of my high expectations.

We'll pretend, for argument (and sanity) sake that this is the fault of the year and not any fault of my own. Because we don't want to sully NaBloPoMo with accusations of "fault" or "blame", now, do we?

Besides, by the time I finish this post, pop a few ibuprofen for my back, and climb under the covers for a little Dr. Mario to put myself to sleep (Nintendo DS plays Game Boy Advance games. I can kill candy-colored germs with multicolored Panatol to my geeky little heart's content) it will officially be December.

I shall celebrate by taking the weekend off from Blogging, and returning to you on Monday - hopefully refreshed and raring to go.

I leave you with a little game we like to call "5 things you didn't (want to) know about me."

1) I used to have my belly button pierced. When I got pregnant with Jack, I took out the ring. I got stretch marks all over my belly, but around the hole from the piercing the stretch marks formed in the shape of a star. I spent the last part of my pregnancies looking like a stretch-mark-star-bellied sneetch. Which I thought was awesome. (Still do.)

2) I cannot abide the taste of eggplant. I have tried it baked, boiled, steamed, grilled, and fried. Also as part of parmigiana, mashed with garlic, and on pizza. I hated it in every case. This continues to mystify many of my relatives, as they absolutely love the stuff. I find the texture snot-like, and it tastes like I imagine boiled cardboard would. I am subsequently a target of suspiscion and disbelief, as they are mystified that anyone could possibly harbor such a vile opinion of poor, innocent eggplant.

3) When I was a little girl, I used to curl up in my blankets at night, cover myself up entirely, and pretend I lived in the hollow top of a mountain. There was a hinged lid which I could open to gather supplies -- usually snow to melt for water and maybe some wild berries or a rabbit to skin and eat. All of this was, of course, entirely imaginary. I may have read a few too many Laura Ingalls Wilder stories at around the same time.

4) I often sleep in a t-shirt that my niece, Victoria, made for me when she was 10 years old. She is now 15. It has a tracing of her 11-year-old hand print and drawings of flowers and sunshine. She made it when she was still a little girl, all stick-figure drawings and knobby knees. Now she's turning into a teenage girl - chasing boys, weighing invitations to the prom, looking forward to getting her learner's permit. But I have this t-shirt that proves that she wasn't always the adolescent heartbreaker; once she was just a little girl who made a t-shirt for her aunt because I was the epitome of cool. You know, before I got old and, like, totally lame and whatever.

5) I got my first spray-on tan today. I no longer have the remnants of my Summer farmer tan to ruin the lines of my pretty party dress. Also, it did not turn me orange, for which I will give thanks to the Artificial Sun Gods. It was a risk, but it turned out well. Thankyouverymuch, Amen.

Plastic Ghosts of Christmas Past

I was shopping for toys at WalMart the other day, and I saw a whole row of Cabbage Patch Dolls. Apparently they are still as wildly popular as they were in my childhood of the 80's. I am still undecided as to bringing a lawsuit against the toy company for stealing my face and putting it on the dolls. Honestly, am I the only one who sees it??

Alas, there are no little girls in my house begging for dolls this year. I'd buy one for the boys, but so far any doll which has reached their hands becomes a top-heavy weapon, good for swinging or as a surface-to-air missile. Somehow I think this would fail to fulfill my desire to see a child of mine nurture a baby doll with the tender care I lavished on my own.

Maybe 2008 will be our year to add a baby girl to the melee around here. My back should be better by Spring. Then again, having another girl in the house would be an entirely alien experience at this point. Who will teach her to be a girl? Certainly not her mother. *burp*

Christmas 1986.
I was 7 years old.
21 years have since passed.

Good grief, Charlie Brown... where did the time go? And how did I not notice that I had freakishly large feet???

As Promised, On the Lighter Side

Things I Am Loving About Today:

* The smell of fresh-cut potatoes on my hands

I love making my mom's pot roast recipe - with baby carrots and cut potatoes. It cooks all day, and the house smells like Sunday afternoons when I was growing up. I love the way my hands smell after I get it prepared. All day long, no matter how many times I wash them, they carry that faint, starchy scent from the potatoes. It smells fresh and earthy. This might be weird? But it makes me feel normal. Plus, this is one of Big Daddy T's favorite dinners.

* Fresh flowers

The bouquet my neighbor brought over last night is full of white daisies and red carnations. I love daisies - the most easy-going of all flowers. Lovely in their casual beauty. That's a phrase I would love to hear applied to me.

* Being a Girl

My friend, Molly, and her husband have offered to watch the boys on Saturday night while Big Daddy T takes me to his office Christmas party in Reston. This means we have secured an actual Night. Out. We will go to a nice Steakhouse. I will be in a red party dress and fab black heels. I will get to carry a tiny purse, with absolutely no diapers, wipes, toy cars, crayons, tylenol, or emergency candy. I can wear dangly earrings, put sparkly things in my hair, and wear lipstick with abandon. I will get to talk to grown-ups for a whole evening. I am giddy with anticipation.

* Sunshine

'Tis a beautiful day outside, my friends. There's a crisp wind, but the sun is shining and the air is fresh. After preschool pick-up, the boys and I will be hanging the exterior decorations. Mine will be the house with the groovy light-up snowflakes that cycle through blinky patterns, and the kitschy candy cane poles framing the porch. It's total cheese, yes... but it's Christmas. What can ya do?

* Spitting Distance To The Finish Line

After I press "Publish Post" there will officially only be 2 more posts required of me to complete NaBloPoMo. It went by so much faster than I expected - and with so much less pain than I remember last year. I'm sure there's a lot of filler and crap in what I've put out this month, but maybe there's a gem or two in there, as well. You never can be sure, and since I have not yet gone back to re-read any of the posts, I'll have to reserve judgment until it's over.

And last, but not least,

* YOU, dear internets.

Thank you from the bottom of my weepy, bleeding heart for all the kind thoughts. The emails and comments of support about my Gram were incredibly sweet, and made it just a little easier to put that photo up on the shelf last night. I keep thinking of Oh The Joys, and how funny it is that ended up - so quickly - in the position of being the one who wants to think that maybe, just maybe, those people really are looking out at me from that photo. Telling me that they love me, and that everything is just as it should be.

It's Oh So Quiet, It's Oh So Still

Today was a rough day. I thought about my Gram most of the day, thought about not being at the funeral, and pondering what that means to me.

Fortunately, I suppose, I had my second session with the new therapist today. She wants to see me again in a week, instead of our usual two week interim. Apparently I have a lot to say. Who knew?

But some good things happened today, too.

The checkout girl at the 7-11 (who looked at least 40) was surprised that I'm older than she is. She looks old for her age (which is less than my age, but I don't know the exact age) and it appears I look young for my age. She thought I was 19. I was irrationally pleased by this. I'll be 29 in April, by the way.

My neighbor/friend (with whom things have been somewhat tense since we butted heads over the HOA and various and sundries) stopped by tonight with flowers and treats to cheer me up when she heard my Gram died. I cried. And I realized I am maybe ready to see if at leaset a modicum of the friendship can't be salvaged. She opened the door, and I'm tentatively ready to walk through it. A girl can never have too many friends.

I got most of the rest of the interior Christmas decorations up today. The house looks frickin' awesome, if I do say so myself.... and as I sit here in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, pondering pain medication for this stupid back and stupid leg, I can't help but wonder if maybe the holiday spirit will creep up on my in spite of myself. I could use a little holiday cheer.

Also? Apparently I could use more therapy.

You know you're in a bad way when your analyst gently suggests you should come back... like.. sooner rather than later. But with Toby asleep on my lap through the session today, I felt like I finally started opening up. Finally started letting loose all the miscellaneous "stuff" that I have to address before I can really figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

I'm venturing into deep waters here, y'all. And I better hurry and post this sucker, because it's one minute to midnight. Rest assured, I'll be back tomorrow with something witty and lighthearted.

Like a gentle belch to let you know my frothy spirit is still intact.

Try and keep your excitement under control.

A Really Awful NaBlo Haiku... or Two

I got distracted
Decking the halls with holly
I went up to bed

I nearly forgot
With only five days to go
This counts for today

Will You Light My Candle?

After the supremely somber mood of yesterday's post, I had it in mind to make today's a more lighthearted affair.

I'm sorry to say that I am failing miserably in the attempt. My back has been killing me all day, and it took continual doses of ibuprofen and finally a prescription painkiller to knock it down to "tolerably painful" instead of "Sweet-Niblets-Just-Kill-Me-Now".

The kids and their dad enjoyed a mostly restful day of playing video games, watching the tee vee, and eating pizza. The house is a bit of a disaster, and we didn't actually manage to get the Christmas decorating done as we had planned.

But we'll make tomorrow a Family Night and decorate the tree then. With egg nog and Christmas tunes. And hopefully a much better prognosis for my back, after my doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon.

Until then, dear readers, Big Daddy and I are pouring the cabernet and heading downstairs so he can watch the movie version of Rent. I've seen it once before, and this will be his first time.

Someday? I'll make him take me to New York to see it all live and in person. Until then, this quiet evening at home will do quite nicely.

Fare Thee Well.

We had a fantastic weekend with my big sis and her family. I'm sure I'll have more to say about it all later, but right now I am exhausted. I miss my sister; it was hard to say goodbye. She and I bond so easily. We laugh at each others' jokes. We slap each others' behinds. We adore each others' kids. We shopped together for 9 hours and could have kept going for 9 more.

The five-hour drive home, after an emotional farewell, gave me some time to begin to process my headspace. There were too many thoughts in my head. There are still too many.

When I woke up this morning, my sister gave me the news that my Grandmother passed away last night.

She passed peacefully. She was ready to go. She lived a long, full life and she was anxious to follow after her husband. My grandfather passed away a few years ago after a long battle with Alzheimer's Disease, and she hadn't really enjoyed living since his death - really, not since he left the home they had shared for so many years to enter a full-time Alzheimer's care facility.

I had not seen her or talked to her since our visit when I was pregnant with Toby. Today, though, I am acutely aware of her absence in this world. She was ready to go, but I don't think we're ever really ready for our grandparents to leave us.

Five hours was not enough; I need more time to process. But I am okay; I will be okay.

I am reminded how valuable life is. How precious and fleeting. How much I want to hold on to it - hold on to this husband of mine and these little boys we have made. Hold on to this life we have built together, and the things we want for ourselves and the kids.

The funeral is Tuesday. I won't be able to go. I'll be here - remembering my Grandma. Remembering quiet afternoons at her condo in Salt Lake City. Remembering Grandpa and the way he always mixed all the dry cereal together so you had kix and cheerios and rice crispies and everything else all in one. Remembering Grandma, and the way she always had the college basketball and football games on the radio. You never would have guessed that quiet, gentle, intensely spiritual woman had such an enduring love for her college sports.

Grandpa and Grandma - around the time of their wedding - 1941

Visiting with Grandma, July 2005. I was 6 months pregnant with Tobin.

Grandma and Grandpa - LDS Mission - Riding the London Underground
(Sometime in the 1980's).

This is how I will always remember them. Last week, before we left for Ohio, I ordered a 5x7 print of this photo to hang on our wall. Now, it seems like serendipity. Hanging it will be my act of remembrance - my own, personal eulogy to my grandparents. I love them. I miss them.

Oh-Hi-Oh, A-Shopping We Did Go.

Black Friday, people. Let me just say, it was my first experience venturing into the wilds of the day-after-Thanksgiving jungle. It was something of a bloodbath but, fortunately for me, my sister and I had no actual goals for our shopping - with few exceptions.

Because of this, we were able to observe the milling throngs with something of a clinical eye. Teenage girls searching for the "secret shopper" to get free gift cards from a local radio station. Mothers, drunk on the power of shopping without their children, filling their carts and baskets with all sorts of impulse toy buys. Elderly couples strolling hand in hand, obviously just enjoying the crush of the crowd and the abundant Christmas decor.

I escaped with bank account relatively unscathed (save for sandwiches at Subway and a soft pretzel at Walmert). The beginning of holiday excitement building in my guts. 50 different scents on my skin from a joyous frolic through Bath and Body Works. I love that store with an unholy passion - surpassing even my passion for scented candles and those sugar-coated gummy fruit slices.

Tomorrow we fight the raging traffic and head back towards home - comfortably full of turkey, pie, and familial affection. Entirely ready for the Christmas season. Ready to decorate the tree. I might even be sufficiently filled with holiday cheer to start the roll-out cookies and make the Christmas fudge.

Time to break out the Yule Log DVD, people. The holidays are here.

Happy Turkey Da-zzzzzzzzzzzz

Too much tryptophan. Turkey is good.

Flag is now officially planted for the day.

More tomorrow, after the shopping frenzy. The plan is to leave by 6am to score some good deals.

My credit card is already whimpering.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all.

This Will Be Short

...because we're packing up to head out to Ohio. It's going to be a 5-hour-drive that will likely take closer to 8 hours, what with all the other yokels driving to somewhere or other. Like us.

Still need to dig up the Pack 'n play (which may or may not be full of basement spiders. Fun!) Still need to figure out if I have enough clean underwear and diapers to get us all through the next few days. Still need to figure out how to make the dog's crate fit in the back of the van properly with all the luggage.

It's going to be a long day but, assuming I survive the trip, I will be sure to continue my NaBlo duties from the K&A homestead.

Asta Lasagna! Don't get any on ya.

Under The Wire, But Who Can Sleep Anyway?

Do you want to know how close I came to going up to bed, and forgetting to post today? Because it was really, really close.

BUT here I am, in under the wire. This post may be totally pathetic, but the beauty of NaBlo is that it still counts.

So, here's a quick recap of the past 12 hours:

The house - still a mess.
The husband - finally home.
The children - abed.
The pumpkin pies - baked.

And as for me? Well, tragically, I am not baked. I am simply exhausted and ready for a nice long slumber in my bed. You know - that bed over there. The one that has no sheets on it because I didn't actually get around to pulling them from the dryer and putting them on.

It has been a long, tortured month. But my husband is finally home. And - tomorrow? Well, tomorrow - when Jack comes bouncing into our bedroom at 6am demanding crepes and cartoons - I can finally say two of the most spectacular words in the English Language:

Daddy's Turn!

At least until around 7am, when I'll have to get up anyway to get us all packed for the trip to Ohio. I'm beginning to feel a serious empathy with the Energizer Bunney. This is not easy, this going, and going, and going, and going......

Still. The going gets easier with a buddy. Even if I did manage to forget just how horrifically loud he snores.

For a few minutes there I thought the dog had somehow snarfed down a chainsaw, or perhaps a wounded grizzly had wandered into our bedroom by mistake. Imagine my conflicted emotions when I realized that, no, that sound is just what I will be sharing a bed with for the rest of my life.

Then again, after the many weeks of trying to live this life without Big Daddy T giving me the occasional pep talk or slap to my backside? I guess I can re-learn to live with the snoring. And maybe invest in some breathe-right strips... After all, we need to show some compassion for the moose.

The ones making the trek from Canada to answer the mating call.

The Internet Ate My Baby.

The internet did not actually eat my baby. But he is now on streaming internet video.

This morning I got Toby up. I changed his soggy diaper. I dressed him.

And then? He saw a toy bird and began flapping like it was a nervous tick, all the while screaming "FIE! FIE!" Which, while it sounded quite Shakespearean at the time, is actually just toddler-speak for "fly".

I don't know why this bowled me over, except it's the first time I've actually seen him put a physical concept (birds. they fly.) with an inanimate representation of an object (hello fake parrot from the pirate costume!) and attempted to demonstrate to his mother, who is clearly too thick in the head to realize this on her own. Honestly, he was all "Like this, woman - Have you not been paying attention?"

Of course, I had to attempt to recreate it on film. And quickly, so as to get it online for his father to view before he gets onto an airplane in 8 hours. (8 hours!) It definitely lost something in the translation, as he lost all toddler superiority the second the camera came out and immediately became a very tiny circus performer.

(Sidebar: For instant circus-related giggles, check out Alice's post at finslippy last night. I'm still snorting into my latte.)

And 22 hours after Big Daddy T's flight takes off, he will be home, and there shall be much rejoicing. Oh but fie, FIE!, that the house should be such a disaster - and me but a slave to the machinations of my own mind, which will torment unceasingly with the slings and arrows of wifely guilt should I not but bend to the cleaning of it.**

**Quite possibly the worst attempt to complain about housecleaning in Elizabethan tongue ever. But hey, how many people can even say that they have tried? Also, it allowed me to use the whole "fie, fie" thing and bring it back in, full circle. At least when I go off the reservation I commit to it, people. As evidenced by my incredibly dry, pubescent-boy-like voice on this video clip. What can I say - it was before my coffee. The dry air is not kind to my vocal cords.

Just be glad I did not sing.

And now, with no further ado, behold and adieu....
(Weird mood today. Honestly.)

Fly Away Little Bird from Melkist on Vimeo.

A Sudden Quiet.

I should probably have a sense of foreboding. After all, it has been a quiet and uneventful Sunday here in the hills.

Toby woke up from his nap about half an hour ago, and Jack is now quietly entertaining him while Toby contentedly remains in the crib.

Jack and I snuggled in one of the big leather recliners and watched an episode of SpongeBob while Toby napped, after the boys both actually ate their PB&J's at lunch.

Chloe the cat is sound asleep in a furry lump on my lap, while Gizmo the dog snores noisily in his favorite wing chair. Cassie the cat is in her spot-of-choice on Jack's bed, snoozing.

Pumpkins are roasting in the oven, soon to be mashed and baked into pie for Thursday's feast in Ohio.

It's a rare, perfect Sunday.

*********************************************

Update: This entry was started earlier this afternoon. Before the dog threw up again. Before the boys got into UFC Deathmatch mode. Before I was elbow deep in pumpkin puree and screaming "assistants".

Still? A rare, perfect Sunday.

Yet More Useless Information.

It's time again for another installment of Things You Didn't Need To Know! With your host...
uh... that would be me. Hi!

I had all these great ideas for a post on deep, thoughtful observations on parenthood. After all, I am still in hot pursuit of the whole Zen Parenting thing. Well, maybe not so much hot pursuit as, say, lukewarm. After all, the sink is full of dirty dishes, the dog threw up in his bed again last night, and I have yet to convince Jack that running around the house in the nude is not a great idea - especially when the outside temperature is in the 40's. But hey - mox nix. I'm still looking for the Zen in our Zoo, however slow the going may be.

So, instead of poignant navel-gazing, allow me to share yet more useless personal trivia!

* I once ran for student government. And lost. Spectacularly. I try to remember that experience when I am afraid to try something new for fear of failure. (Which happens often.) I lost, I survived the embarrassment, and in the end it really wasn't such a big deal. One of these days I'll be brave enough to jump into things without so much fear. I could learn a lot from Toby -- 2-year-olds are spectacularly fearless.

* I took the van to get the oil changed and the exterior washed this week. The inside, however, remains reminiscent of a third-world disaster scenario. I'm half-convinced there may be a family of raccoons hiding somewhere among the rubble. And perhaps a midget.

* Monday owes me. OH, how Monday owes me. Big Daddy T has informed us he will be returning on Tuesday afternoon -- just in time to leave for us to drive to Ohio 24 hours later. Want to guess who will be doing the driving? I'll give you a clue -- NOT the one who will be so screwy with jet lag that we would end up plowed into a tree in the middle of a field somewhere in Pennsylvania. Nope, just the one who will be so screwy with the CRAZIES that we might end up in Camden, Maine. Because Camden is beautiful this time of year.

* I'm actually getting a real domain for this little burg. It will take a few days to be fully in-effect, but by the end of the weekend AumMom dot com should be completely operational. Don't get too excited, as nothing else is actually changing yet. I may get around to another site redesign in another 5 years or so, but let's not make any promises we can't keep, okay?

* She's intelligent, beautiful, insightful... and, incidentally, recently awarded me a prize! The fab-tastic Mocha Momma is feeling under the weather right now. Be sure to drop by and tell her to get well soon. You can tell her that Mel sent you as you bask in her glow. Just try not to stare at her wings.

Easy As Falling Off A Vlog

I continue to ponder this idea of the mythical Vlog, but when they say the camera adds 10 pounds it is a horrid, horrid LIE. Unless I really do look that much like Roseanne Barr pre-surgery... in which case I may as well give up and live on raw cookie dough. Mmm, cookie dough....

I'm sorry, what were we discussing? Oh, yes.

I'm finally working up the nerve to begin work on the first official video broadcast from these here hills. Feel free to email suggestions or requests to melkist at gmail dot com. It may or may not include such gems as an interview with Jack, answers to reader questions, and Toby's rendition of the word Turtle. Because I am still not over the cuteness of the whole "Tuh-tull" thing. Prepare to be tortured with it repeatedly in the future. Should you find you don't enjoy the experience? You can rest easy in the knowledge that you have no soul.

Resistance is futile
but cookies are awesome.

What it will almost-definitely not include: My face or a guided tour of my house - that is unless it would secure me some FEMA disaster relief funds to pay for a cleaning crew and a stylist.

When All Else Fails....

Today was the Thanksgiving Feast for Jack's class at school.

We enjoyed a feast of turkey, homemade macaroni and cheese, rolls, and of course my fancy contribution - Stove Top Stuffing. Obviously, after slaving away to make this delicacy, I am spent.

Okay, so it's also possible that my inability to fall asleep before midnight any night this past week could be to blame for my exhaustion.

Either way? This is a sad, sad excuse for a post, but it's all my sleepy brain can muster.

BUT! When all else fails? Cuteness saves the day. Allow me to distract you from my lameness with the following adorable images.




See. You've forgiven me already, haven't you. Oh, internet. So quickly distracted, it's almost too eas--- OOH! Look! The kids are watching Ratatouille again! I think I'll go join them...

Santa Ain't The Only One In Red This Season

Thanks to my awesomely spectacular friend Molly, who kept the boys - and fed them dinner - and did not let them kill each other - while I went shopping ALL ALONE, I was able to locate and secure a fabulous, frilly frock (ooOOoo alliteration abounds!) for T's upcoming Company Christmas soiree, as well as my sister's New Years' Eve wedding.

It's red, and strappy, and has a little black tulle just peeking out from under the flouncing skirt. There are tiny black dots on the fabric. There's a dangly black sashy-type-deal in the front that secures with a sparkly broach.

In light of the fact that my wardrobe of late has involved suspicious levels of denim and sweat pants, it was a bit of a rush to try on floaty, swirly, feminine duds. I even splurged on a necklace to complete the ensemble. It felt decadent. (Which, by the way, is incredibly sad, as the dress was on sale for $32.95 and the necklace was a whopping $10. Plus I had a gift card for $10 off, so even with the yummy, chunky, plum-colored sweater-coat I couldn't resist, my grand total was only about sixty bucks. "Let them eat cake!" etc. etc. etc.)

So I am all ready for holiday season. Except for the actual holidays... Those? I am entirely unprepared for. Fabulous dress for formal occasions? Check. Gifts for the kids? umm... Gifts for the husband? Ohh, wouldn't YOU like to know.***

***(As T is my most devoted reader, I will not be able to disclose the details of his gifts here. Suffice it to say that I have one particular item up my sleeve that will go down in our history book. And NO, Baby, it's not the xbox 360... so you can go and take a cold shower now.)

Since I had kids, I find that the pressure to be done with holiday shopping seems to start earlier each year. By the first of November, people are telling me they've been finished since June while I quietly begin to freak out.

But that, my friends, is why Al Gore invented the internets. After half an hour on Amazon.com, I think I have at least figured out what the major gifts will be this year. I got a few things ordered, and put the rest on my "wait" list to catch in the After Thanksgiving specials. I may be cutting it close, but I think I might just get Christmas together in time to avoid last year's debacle. Staying up till 4am to put together and wrap kid toys is not recommended. Especially when your kid will be up at 6am to rip the paper off while you attempt to scrounge up some enthusiasm and snort enough coffee grounds to stay awake until dinner.

Okay, so chances are we'll probably end up in the same situation this year. And chances are that, in the long run, it's a key part of this whole parenting experience. In fact, if watching "It's A Wonderful Life" on the midnight movie (or whatever the tradition may be for your particular flavor of holiday) while trying to read the over-complicated assembly directions for a child's toy with bleary eyes is not already a required right of passage for parenting -- well, it definitely should be. There's a clarity that comes with smashing your thumb for the fourth time while attempting to assemble an item meant for 2-year-olds.

We are but the simple slaves to our tiny masters. And, when it comes to holidays, any pain and frustration is dissolved in the untempered joy on their little faces. At least until the spending hangover kicks in sometime around mid-January, that is.

But hey. At least the Season of Insanity also gives me an excuse to wear something pretty.

As I sit here in my seriously shabby pajama pants (the ones from Old Navy with the whales on them, oh irony) and my Beatles "Let It Be" t-shirt (Toby keeps pointing at John Lennon and saying "Dada!" Yeah, I have no clue what that's about.) I realize.....

I am really, really looking forward to a night out in a pretty dress.

Hola! Soy Mama.

With all the travel in his father's life these days, I suppose it's no surprise that Jack would begin to think of going to exotic places himself. I mean, we keep talking about how Daddy is at the Castles (Prague), Daddy is in "Singaport", or Daddy is at Big City (NYC).

The sister of my next door neighbor, and our sometime babysitter, just returned to Mexico. The kids absolutely adore her, and we were all very sad to see her go.

Then, one of his classmates from preschool apparently went on a week-long family vacation to Mexico.

So I really should not have been totally surprised that Jack would eventually decide that he, himself, ought to be headed out on some globe-trotting adventures. But none of these things prepared me for the note on his school report card today.

"Jack told us during opening exercises that he is going to Mexico this weekend - AND that his teachers are invited to come, too! YEAH!"

Thank goodness his teacher has the sense of humor to handle these situations. I didn't even have to explain that, no, we're not really headed to Mexico. At least, not yet.

On the car ride home, I felt like I should discuss the topic with Jack. Of course, he was dead certain that, oh YES, we ARE, in fact, going to Mexico this weekend. I explained about buying plane tickets, arranging a place to stay, the time and expense of such an adventure. I said maybe, maybe in a year or two we can take a cruise that stops in Mexico. Wouldn't that be fun? On a big boat?

Jack: Yes, Mommy. But we're going to Mexico this weekend.

Me: No, we're not.

Jack: Yes, we are.

Me: Tell you what? How about we get Taco Bell for dinner tonight instead? That's.. uh... sort of like Mexican food.

Jack: Can I have a quesadilla?

Me: SURE!

If only every parenting dilemma could be solved so easily. And come complete with an assortment of delicious hot sauces.

NaBloPoMo Day 12: When Mondays Attack

So this morning, as per usual, I came stumbling down the stairs in search of coffee before I started breakfast. I got the kids settled in front of a cartoon with their milk so could have a fair chance at making the scrambled eggs without small bodies between me and the stove.

While getting the boys tucked into their la-z-boy recliners, I noticed that one of the cats had chewed on their favorite catnip-laced fabric mouse toy and then, of course, yakked on the carpet. Beautiful start to the day.

Because I have developed a strict "No Cleaning Of Cat Vomit Before Coffee" policy, I trudged back upstairs to gulp down a cuppa and got the scrambled eggs cooked. Then I called the boys up for breakfast and got them set up at the table with their plates.

Finally, it was the moment of truth. Paper towels in-hand, I bravely marched down to face the inevitable. Oh how full of tragic bravado was I; Napolean facing my own personal Waterloo, with no inkling of the impending Doom.

I found myself standing over mouse toy and vomit puddle thinking "I really need to ask for a raise". Then, I kneeled down and prepared to face the task at hand.

Oh, my friends. There is nothing quite like the slow-motion realization that what you are looking at is not at all what you first assumed. That it is, in fact, much much worse.

You see, it was not, in fact, the well-loved mouse toy there on the ground. Oh no, it was not.

Instead, I came face to face with the half-eaten corpose of an honest-to-god rodent. The feet were entirely chewed away, and one dead eye stared pitifully up at me below the gorey hole where once the poor creature's brain resided.

Yes, apparently one of my cats is a zombie; it had consumed the mouse's brain with surgical accuracy.

Oh! But wait! What is this? Here - just visible in the mess of regurgitated cat kibble? Why, it's a bit of recognizable brain matter. Mouse brains a la vomit, right here on my family room carpet. Isn't that just lovely.

There are many reasons I got married. Today, the top of the list is having someone else around to cope with partially-digested brain matter. This is so not in my job description.

Why, Yes, I AM a big pansy, and thank you for noticing.

Monday? Oh, it is SO on. You can meet my at the bike racks after school, because I am going to kick you into next Friday - and Friday is big and burly and grew up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin. Friday is going to do things to you that they haven't even thought of at Gitmo yet, things that would make Dick Cheney shudder with horror.

What's that, Monday? Oh, you're sorry about the mouse brains? Yeah. Right. Sure you are. You're just saying that now because you know your hours are numbered. Wait, what now? You'll bring my husband home the next time you roll around? Don't toy with me Monday. I will cut you.

Okay, stop crying. Sersiously, STOP, you're giving me a migraine.

You swear you'll get Big Daddy T home next time? Next Monday will bring him home, in time for a few days of quiet before Thanksgiving? You're willing to swear it?

Okay, Monday. I'll give you one chance to make this right. You get him back here to me and the boys, and we'll forget this whole dead mouse/mouse brains in the kitty vomit incident. Like it never happened.

Oh, and Monday? Just remember - you screw me on this? It won't be just Friday who's got my back. There are 5 other days of the week, and you don't wanna know why they call Wednesday"Hump Day".

Truth In Advertising

As I was going through some old photos the other day - presumably preparing to someday put the mountainous pile of snapshots into some sort of album - I came across some photos from our wedding. (August 16, 2002.)

I didn't remember these photos. I vaguely have a sense that my brother Scott took them, and gave them to us at some later date.

Most of them are actually far superior to the professional shots taken by the photographer.

A few of them are the kind of priceless, spontaneous, totally honest moments that you come to treasure the most. It is among the photos fitting this category that we find undeniable evidence that - my husband? - He totally knew what he was getting himself into when he married me.

Any claims to the contrary? Mere spin, Baby.

Not so much "blushing bride" as "thppppbbbbt!"

C'mere and give ush a kish...