The Adventures of Not Supermom

Ever Just Want To Throw Your Hands in the Air?

2010-03-11T13:24:00.001-05:00

And *not* because you want to wave them around, like you just don't care?

I've reached that point. I'm ready to call it a day. Put a fork in me, I'm done.

So, let me back this truck up a bit. About 12 miles, really. Child One went to see his neurologist in February, because he was having something called Abdominal Migraines. Think migraine headache, in your head, only put it in your abdominal area. Yes, such a thing exists. Tell me about it. So, anywho, we went to the doctor who said, yes it does sound like abdominal migraine. However, he wanted to do some additional testing, because there are some other things that can cause these issues, and we need to rule them out. OK, so off we went for a sleep-deprived EEG (which, by the way, is NOT delightful.)

Get the phone call back from the neurologist the day we return from a cross-country trip. "Mrs. H? Your son has a form of epilepsy."

Excuse me, did I hear that correctly?

Turns out, yes, I did. Kid One has a form of epilepsy. His particular rare form affects him only during sleep, though. The bad thing is that it interrupts his sleep cycle, not allowing him full and complete sleep. Went in for a follow-up visit with the neurologist. We elected to put him on zonisamide, an anti-convulsant. Biggest fear with this particular drug is that it's an appetite suppressant. Kid One is small enough, he doesn't need to lose weight. Neurologist recommended we also have Kid Two screened, as it is genetic, and as she displays some of the symptoms.

OK, so fast forward to this week. Kid One is on a half-dose of his med. It's already causing him to not want to eat, and giving him a strange effect called Taste Perversion. Everything tastes bad, which makes him not want to eat doubly. Sigh. But, the kicker is that he's been *moody*. Belligerent, obnoxious, bossy, violent, aggressive. He's come home from school four days in a row now for either bothering his classmates, not listening and following directions, or HITTING the other kids. He got sent to the principal's office this morning. I don't want to be that parent whose kid gets expelled from kindergarten! I don't know what to do... I'm waiting on the neuro's office to open up after lunch. Gonna talk to them about possibly switching meds, or something. I expect we'll be moving his next series of tests forward. He's supposed to go for a 24-hour EEG, and an MRI, the first weeks of April.

Couple that with an ongoing situation at Kid Two's school... and yeah. Y'all are gonna love this one.

For several weeks now, we've had an issue with one of the assistants at Kid Two's school. She's been mean to the Girl Child, rude to me, rude to my father, generally just what one would call a bitch. She's said some things that are completely over the line. Yesterday, as I dropped my daughter off at school, she started crying that she wanted me to stay, on and on, full blown meltdown. Just to remind you, she's 4. Today, we arrived at school, with an understanding that if she could not control herself today, she would spend the afternoon in her room as punishment. She was fine, happy and content. I rolled down my window, and this assistant, in front of God and everyone including my daughter said, and I quote, at the top of her lungs, "IF SHE STARTS CRYING TODAY I'M GONNA CHOKE HER." What.the.fuck.did.you.just.say? Then went on to inform my daughter that 'her crying upset everyone.'

I don't give a flying fart that you're 'joking' lady. I don't know you from Adam. You do *not* say things to a child like that. Particularly not in front of her classmates. Yesterday this woman snatched my girl by her arm, right there in front of everyone.

I can tell you I did not wage violence on the woman there. I did not assault her, tho I thought about it. I can tell you we've since been on the phone with her principal, and have requested that she has nothing more to do with my daughter. We're considering removing her from the school, altogether, because we're worried that she's going to be targeted. We hate to do it, though, because we feel like we're punishing our little girl, pulling her away from all her school friends. We will, of course, do so if the situation isn't rectified and fast. But it sucks. Damn, it sucks.

I'm ready to be done. I didn't think I'd ever say that I'm ready for summer break to get here, but I am. I need a stiff drink, and perhaps a straight jacket. What would *you* do if this was your situation?

Edit: Talked to the LPN @ the Neurologist's office, who I quite like. She said "pull him off, immediately." We're going with topamax, to see how he does on that. His doseage is incredibly small, hopefully he'll respond well. We'll see.

Sugar and Spice...

2010-03-11T12:45:00.000-05:00

That's what little girls are made of, right?

Two days ago, Girl Child proved this theory correct.

Hubby celebrated his 29th birthday, and we went to dinner at his parents' house, with the rest of the family. His grandmother gave him a lovely birthday card, and the first line read something along the lines of "Because you're so special..."

Girl Child read it to him (Yes, she's four. Yes, she reads.) and then asked, "Daddy, are you special?"

Hubby responds with, "What do you think? Do you think I'm special?"

Girl Child responds with, "You're my Daddy!!"

Aaaw.

Things My Child Says...

2010-03-08T16:06:00.000-05:00

This may become an ongoing post, but in the past two days, Kid Two has said things that took me aback... or said something that solicited hearty laughter.

First up:

"My feet are friends."

Why her feet are friends, I don't know. I suppose I'm glad they are, otherwise life might get difficult for her. I can't imagine going through my everyday with two feet who can't stand the sight of one another.

Second:

"I'm going to be nice, for Jesus."

Good choice kid. And it's not like she was saying that she was going to be nice because that's what Jesus would want. No... It was much more along the lines of "Oh, hey, Jesus is coming by for dinner, and I'm thinking I should be relatively friendly." I suppose all things are possible, but I would be shocked if Jesus were to casually drop in. Here's hoping I won't be making pork chops for dinner that night. (That was horribly wrong of me, wasn't it? Oh well.)

And then third up:

"When we grow up, we're going to have KIDS!"

To which my hubby replied, with nary a hesitation, "AND I HOPE THEY'RE JUST LIKE YOU!" The then turned, grinned at me, and shouted "Yes! The curse has been passed on!!" Score one for the parents, right? :-)

Anywho... I'm thinking I'm going to keep a list of the amusing or bizarre things my children utter, solely for your benefit (and perhaps embarrassment as teenagehood approaches...).

A Colorful Conversation

2010-02-02T15:08:00.000-05:00

Today, in the midst of my running around and carrying on, I went to have my hair cut. 3 inches later, I walked out, feeling lovely. Get Child One from school, and get home to have this conversation:

Me: "Look! I got a haircut!"
Q: "Nice. Did you put some color in it?" (Keep in mind, he's 5.)
Me: "No... what kind of color?"
Q: "The hair colors. I know they sell it at the Wal-mart. I know it. Seriously."
Me: "And what color do you think I should make my hair?"
Q: "Red. I saw it at the Wal-mart."

Oooookay.

I'm not sure what I think about being a redhead...

Wow, I've been absent!

2010-02-02T13:49:00.001-05:00

So, I suppose sitting down to catch up exactly ten minutes before I need to run out the door is a bad idea. But... what the hell. It's ten minutes.

Alright, so since my last post, we had Halloween, where we went dressed up as a Fireman, and Raggedy Anne. Very cute, not particularly eventful, just the way I like it.

November came, and I had to have major under-arm surgery to remove a tumor. The tumor was benign, thank goodness, but having surgery the day before Thanksgiving certainly made the holiday entertaining. Recovery is going well, I am mostly healed, just a little problem with range of motion, and some nerve damage for the skin. It's coming back slowly, though, in interesting bursts of tingling.

Oh, November also brought the arrival of a new family member - Blake, our 2 year old black Lab/something or another mix. It's like having a 2 year old in the house. I swear to you, he threw a temper tantrum yesterday.

Christmas brought a packed-to-the-gills house. We had my best friend, her husband, and their five children stay with us for almost a week. The ages of the children in the house were as follows: 8, 5, 4, 4, almost 3, 17mos, and 5mos. Things were crazy. But Santa visited, the kids all got lots of goodies, many squeals insued, etc.

New Years hit. The first four days of the new year were ... how might one say... batshit crazy. But everything settled down, and we're back to a quasi-normal routine now.

Child One is seeing a new doctor, and we're making progress toward something useful. Child Two is in pre-k... and I'm not sure what my thoughts on that are. Mostly, I'm not pleased, but I'm hesitant to move her, because of the lateness in the year. Her year only runs to May, so I'm not sure a move would be best served.

I took them out to pick u-pick strawberries last Friday... This is my funny for the day, and I'll leave you with this, as I fling myself through the front door. I called the farm, to verify that they were in fact open, and that yes, there were strawberries to be had. "Yes! Come on down!" Packed up the children after school, and off we went.

We arrived, to be greeted with "Sorry, no more berries!" WTF? Y'all had some two hours ago. So, the girl told me some story about how they had been rained upon, how the sun hadn't shown, etc... and that there were no berries because of this. Uh huh. Ok, fine. Then she fed me this line: "Come back tomorrow! We'll have some then!"

::blinks:: You *had* berries this morning when I called, and now you don't have any, because of the rain, and yet you'll have some *just magically appear* TOMORROW?

I may not be the smartest person on the planet. I'm comfortable with (and comforted by) that. However... I'm not sure I buy this theory about the magically disappearing and reappearing strawberries.

So... My daughter, God bless her, turned on the water works, and made the girl behind the counter feel about like she was three inches tall. Ask me if I care.

And there you have it, in a nutshell. And I must bid you farewell, Internet Folks, as I am running behind (...again...) and need to drive like a madwoman.

Until we meet again....

I'm becoming a technophile.

2009-10-06T18:46:00.000-04:00

I can hear Mr. H laughing from across the house... "Becoming," he thinks, "PAH! She's BEEN a technophile for an eternity. Just closeted technophile."

Alright, so he's probably right. More than likely right. Significant probability that he has postulated correctly.

But, this point has been hammered home in the past few days. We have procured a Wii, plus it's varying acoutrements. I've also scored myself an iPod! Welcome to this century, Michelle. Sheesh.

So, let's take a few minutes to go through what is currently on my iPod.

I am listening to a version of "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Rockapella. (Yes, I'm a nerd.)

The next ten songs, with the iPod set to shuffle, are as follows:

"Remember When" by Alan Jackson - aka my You're Getting Old song.
"Must Be Doin Something Right" by Billy Currington. Can I tell you he's yummish? Yes, indeed.
"Gonna Make You Sweat" by C&C Music Factory. EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
"Justify My Love" - Madonna. There's no need to justify my music.
"Wooly Booly" - you know you wanna sing along.
"It's Not Right but It's OK" - Whitney Houston. 90s pop angst. :-)
"Accidentally in Love" from the Counting Crows. Is there any way this song isn't the best bubblegum pop song on the planet?
"ABCD" from Laurie Berker. Mom-pod strikes again.
"Crimson and Clover" - Tommy James and the Shondells. OH YES.
"This Love" from Maroon 5. I love these people.

OK, so nothing too crazy. Some Vanilla Ice, but no Hammer. Great workout music (hey, I have a Wii now, I may as well use it, right?)

Now, I've decided that I <3 my iPod. Nothing like random Salt N Peppa to make you smile while trying to kill yourself working at the Wii workout. It's brilliant, and should have been invented ten years ago, when I had more free time (and fewer children to chase around).

So, let's discuss my Wii. That sounds naughty. Let's talk Wii. ... again, not exactly what I want to say in polite company. But you get the idea... I LIKE it. A lot. Why didn't we buy one of these sooner? Aside from the several hunded dollars, but still. It's worth it. And hey, guess what I've discovered? I like golf. Who knew? I actually got a birdie on Wii Golf today. Seriously, played an entire round at or under par. I'd have never thought I'd like it! Now, mind you, I'm not about to strap on cleats and go out for nine holes. After all, it's still Florida, and despite it being October, it's still 90 degrees out, and no matter what gold might lie at the end of the rainbow, it's freaking hot, and I don't like being outside. But, I'm OK with Wii Golf, and maybe my father-in-law will be proud of my birdie.

What's more than how much I like golf, though, is how much I like the boxing. Yes, boxing. Seriously... I apparently like to beat the crap out of things. Mike thinks I cheat, though... I like to punch my opponents in the kidneys. He suggests that this is, perhaps, not the most lady-like way to win. Ask me if I care! I get to hit things, and I can't be A) arrested, or B) investigated by CPS for these things. Score. If nothing else, I'll have some killer arms and shoulders. Perhaps killer isn't the best adjective to use there.... Boxing while The Spice Girls are blaring in my ears, sweating like a hog in the sun, and grinning like a fool. Heaven. :-) Maybe my fat butt will lose some weight, although considering my penchant for cooking everything with half a stick of butter, I won't bank on that. Again, though, killer arms. Maybe I can get away with sleeveless shirts again in the not-too-distant future.

So, wii! Or, whee, rather. I hurt in muscles I never thought I had, but I've had more fun. I'm trying desperately not to give myself gamer's elbow. But, I have to say, the funniest thing is watching Kid Two bowl. She loves it! And kid has a serious aim, too. She's wicked... Kicked my butt all over the place. Kid One has a serious hook, and has yet to learn how to compensate for it. I've got to get some video, though, of Kid Two, as she bowls. Everytime she releases the 'ball', she piroettes (how the hell do you spell that?). It's hysterical.

And now, you know where I'll be, if I go MIA for any length of time. I will be boxing until my heart's content, jamming out to Ace of Base.

Nothing is EVER easy!!

2009-09-20T21:48:00.000-04:00

So, Friday we flew out to the Atlanta Linux Fest, a fabulously well-thought-out and organized conference of All Things Nerdy, but you know, with me, travel can not be easy. Ever. Ever, ever, never.

And, therefore, I must blog.

Alright, Friday afternoon. Let's leave the house by 3:30!

3:32: Gas station. Go to pay for soda, inside store. CRAP. Forgot my debit card at home. No big deal, right? Well, typically no, I had other forms of payment with me... except we were on our way to the airport, and my plane tickets had been procured with my debit card, and both our rental car, and our hotel room, had been secured using it as well. I knew I would have to present it, in order to have a car to drive, and a room to sleep in. TURN AROUND.

3:35: Back in car, back on our way to airport. Michael gets on interstate, and begins speeding up to merge. As he does, he proclaims "SHIT! We're going the wrong way." CRAP, CRAP. We are speeding along at a nice 75 miles per hour, headed to Tampa. We're flying out of Orlando. TURN AROUND. again.

3:45: BACK on interstate, this time heading to Orlando... laughing hysterically at ourselves, cause you know these sorts of things only happen to us. Make it to the airport with out killing or maiming ourselves (which is a feat unto itself), get checked in, and head to security. Oh WAIT, we parked at A Terminal, and we are apparently leaving from B terminal. So, we schlep our way across the airport. Thank goodness we weren't running late.

Get to security, where, apparently, there is no air conditioning. I'm telling you, it had to have been approximately one trillion degrees, with 100% humidity, inside. I fully expected to see a little Eeyore-like raincloud moseying through the airport security area... and also fully expected to see it come find me, just to rain on my parade. OK, so through security we go. Orlando International Airport could use some instruction on how to effeciently make people stand in line... I seriously felt like a cow, on the way to the slaughter. Perhaps not the best feeling to have when going through the airport.

Get to the checkpoint. I'm sweating like a hog, and anxious about making it through security. Of course, the last time I flew, I was lovingly flagged by the TSA, and sent through security no less than 4 times, while they looked for a 'bottle of liquid' I did not possess. So, here I am, watching my laptop, shoes, and bag enter into what my brain deems as the Tunnel of Doom. The charming and friendly security person motions that I should walk through the metal detector, which I do, without blaring alarms. Score! And, as I watch, my shoes, laptop, and bag all make it out the otherside of the Tunnel of Doom without triggering a full-body-cavity search of my person. I swear, I heard the heavens open and choirs of angels sing the Halleluja chorus. Mike wanders his way through, leaves me to schlep the three bags we carry over to the bench, as he absent-mindedly wanders over to put on his shoes.

Alright, off we go, then. Monorail ride out to the terminal... uneventful, if not for the bizarre window decorations of the train. They're advertising for Disney's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party. Donald is dressed like Satan. I'm disturbed.

Off the train, making our way through the terminal. Our gate is the last one, of course. At least I'm not wheeling thirty-seven pieces of luggage behind me. We get to the gate, sit down, and look to our right. Oh sweet Jesus, we've got one of ~~those~~ passengers with us. Actually, two. Mike immediately deems the pair "Dead and Dying". Twelve seconds after we sit and begin people-watching, here comes the rescue team, backboard in hand, etc. Guess who they are coming for... Well, it's not me, so it must be Dead and Dying. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Dead stands up, begins flailing her arms, and starts carrying on about how someone hit her in the back with a Galley Cart, and how it caused her to have a seizure, how she feels her spine growing stiff, etc. Mike and I come to the conclusion that she is thoroughly intoxicated. I am sorta vaguely wondering where *I* can get something to drink, because I'm sure that the only way this woman would possibly make any sense to me is if I were thoroughly intoxicated. Meanwhile, there is much wailing, much gnashing of teeth, much writhing around on the floor. "Ma'am, let us call an ambulance for you, etc." is met with "No, must get on airplane." Damnit all. Dying is sitting in her wheelchair doing nothing more than, well, perhaps dying and looking thoroughly embarrassed about it. Dead is the one making all the racket... in her hot pink skinny jeans. Really now.

Finally, after much to-do, it comes time for us to board. Get in, get settled... Flight is mercifully uneventful. Thank heavens for that.

Get through the Atlanta airport... get our rental car... and start heading to the hotel, right? Wrong. We get on the interstate, again. GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION, again. Jesus H Christ bananas. Turn around. Go toward the hotel. Check in, 10 pm. I am starving!! Hadn't eaten lunch, cause I'm an idiot. Go down to the overpriced, overrated hotel "Grill." Eat fish and chips, because I don't want to pay $37 dollars for a steak (which, for all I know, would have been llama instead), and visit with some friends who happen to also be there for the Linux show.

Back to our room... to discover we are in, as Mike called it, the "short people room". Mike is not short. I, although shorter than him, am not 4 foot 7. It has one of those toilets that looks like it belongs in a pre-school bathroom. I am convinced that if it were any lower to the ground, I'd be sticking by butt through the ceiling of the floor below us. This is not good for business... or doing business, in fact.

Sleep. Ah, good lord, sleep.

Sleep IN. Whoops. No screaming children to awaken us, only a cell-phone alarm clock, which I promptly throw on the floor.

OK, so off we go. Check out of our room, go hang out with the fellas at the Linux fest. Met lots of great people, met some AMAZING girl-geeks. Nice to find some sisterhood in a swamp of testosterone. Learned some stuff, made some friends, discussed flying to Kansas (I need a frequent-flyer card). All in all, excellent time was had by all, and I'm glad we went.

Finish up at the fest, get into the rental car, tell the GPS that we want to head to Car Rental Row, by the airport. Must turn in rental car. Mabel, as we affectionately call her, gets us stuck in an indefinite loop. Oh, you think I'm being silly. No, she told us to make a right. Then another right, and another right, and a fourth right... wait, I'm sensing a trend, here. Every time we made this loop, it made us turn in a just-slightly-different-enough fashion that we didn't pass the same landmark until the third trip around this giant circle. Wait.A.Minute. We've been here before...

Finally, we figure out that perhaps Mabel is not being friendly, and rather has developed a mean streak. Ha, ha, Mabel, you have an off button. We turn her off, and decide to go about this the old fashioned way... Look, SIGNS! Remember that chorus of angels earlier? Yeah, their presence was known a second time.

Returned the car. Went through the security again... Again, sweating like a pig, again worried about making the FBI most-wanted list. Successfully negotiated my way through security again, and went to eat at one of the airport's various restaurants. I have some phenomental chicken. I am a southern girl by birth, and a Paula Deen fan to boot. I like things friend, and think that all food is made better with a half stick of butter. Fried chicken, baked mac and cheese, black eyed peas, and corn muffins. Someone loves me.

Go hang out, waiting for the gate to open. Twiddle my thumbs a bit, read a book a bit... Finally board.

Flight is uneventful. Lovely flight attendant. Nothing remarkable. Whoo hoo!! Just the overtly religious folks behind us talking the entire time about Jesus. Not that there's anything wrong with Jesus, mind, but I was exhausted, and some quiet time would have been lovely. The mommy in me was very, very tempted to shout "TALKING TIME-OUT" at them, but I refrained. Be proud of me.

Back on the ground in Orlando. Offload with no particular difficulty. Get out through the terminal, over to the main part of the airport. Realize we're walking the wrong direction, turn around. AGAIN. I sense a theme.

Get to the elevators where we go down to the parking garage. Out into the parking garage... we had parked on the row directly in front of the elevators, on Row C. We get off the elevator, and look up at Row K. FART. We took the wrong damn elevators. Jesus. I needed him in that moment, let me tell you. So, off we go schlepping 13 rows down through the airport parking garage. It is 8 pm, but it is Orlando, FLORIDA, and we're working with about 97% humidity. I don my swim fins, and make my way to the car, which seemed a lot further down the row than we remembered it being. Finally found it, and off we went.

We mostly managed to get on the interstate going in the right direction... and finally made our way home. 9:27pm, and we are home, and I declare that Jetsetting is perhaps not my thing.

SLEEP.

Today, I get up, and now have what I affectionately refer to as the conference-airplane-exhaustion-flu.

Going to bed now.

I've hit a wall!

2009-09-14T19:20:00.002-04:00

So, I suck at most everything these days, it seems.

The laundry trolls have overpopulated, again, and the dust bunnies have formed colonies in places I never expected to find them... under the laundry trolls. Alas, I should probably do something about that, like call the Orkin Man, or something, but I genuinely have no inclination to do so.

Things I've procrastinated:

Writing a presentation for Saturday.
Packing clothing so I do not give presentation Saturday in my birthday suit.
Washing said laundry.
Locating my sanity.

And about a brazillion other things. But hey, I feel sorta bad about it. Sorta. Not 100% bad about it... maybe 35%.

I feel as thought I have been negligent in posting here... No, wait, it's a cold, solid, look-you-in-the-eye fact that I've been negligent, and for that I apologize. I will not apologize for the laundry trolls. In fact, if you come visit, you can locate me under Hall Family Laundry Mountain. What are you looking at? Don't just stand there, fold a sock!

Things have been amiss. We have had troubles at school, we've had challenges at home... We've started the process of finding YET another specialist, and that alone makes me want to pull my hair out and braid it into a rug for relaxation purposes. The last thing I've wanted to do has been write. Wait, more lies from myself. I just haven't had any inspiration to say something witty.

So, here I am, out of sheer obligation, yammering on about nothing in particular. Not particularly funny, nor particularly relevant. However, I'm hoping it will catapult me off my ass and into the laundry room... I might stop in the kitchen, though. I *do* have cookie dough in the fridge that really needs to get used. Hhmmm....

But, because these sorts of things only happen to me, I will tell you this. Yesterday I was driving down the road, at a reasonable speed, I promise, when I got passed, going the other direction, by a miniature horse.

Yes.

Pulling a miniature buggy.

With a teenage girl at the reins.

I suppose when you're too young to get your driver's license, you get creative, right? I've seen mopeds, I've seen ATVs, I've seen golf carts, all manned by underage drivers driving like bats just released from the gates of Hell itself. But a miniature horse? AND buggy? This one is new on me.

Only here in Polk County. And only to moi.

I am well and truly blessed.

2009-08-16T13:35:00.003-04:00

I wish I had more time and energy to reflect on all of the silliness of this week, and I will yet.

But, I wanted to make a note, before I forget my good manners, to be thankful for how blessed I genuinely am. For family and friends, for good health (more or less) and for good fun.

Mr. H and I run a charity in our hometown, recycling computers for children. Yesterday, we hosted a build-day, and I took a minute, once we got started, to stand back and survey the goings-on, and reflect on how amazing it was. We had an approximate 75 bodies building computers yesterday, kids from 5 up to grown adults in the late phases of life, from all walks. The kids were kids who came not from well-to-do families, but kids from an emergency shelter in our home town. It was amazing to watch. And all-total, we processed a grand total of 47 computers in some form or fashion, within the span of about 4 hours.

Everyone came back to our house for dinner, afterward. We had almost 30 bodies in and out for dinner. The only part of the day that went horribly awry was a burnt pan of lasagna, but it was the last pan out, and everyone had already gone back for seconds, so we were all good.

Today, the house is quiet. I'm not tripping over twelve thousand monitors, pieces and parts. We had a plan of attack for the next time. We learned a lot, we met good people, we reconfirmed some old friendships. We stand a chance at having seriously impacted the lives of those in our community. And how truly blessed are we, to be able to have a day like that?

I'll go through it more, here and in other places... But I wanted to make a note, while it was fresh in my brain, to remind myself of how blessed we can be, and how blessings arise from struggles and trials. If it hadn't been for one little boy.

Home Improvements, I think.

2009-08-02T10:59:00.002-04:00

This morning, Mr. H and I set out to 'improve our home'. Riiiiiight, cause I look so much like Bob Vila. But off we went.

The goals: To put shelving units up in the front (12-foot-long) closet, and paint one wall in our bedroom a lovely mocha brown. We can do this. We're capable, aren't we?

Sure we are!!

So, we get started, and Kid One sees us carrying out the hammer, the drill, etc., into the front closet, since we're gonna tackle the shelves first. Kid One doesn't like loud noises; it's part of who he is. He generally chooses to be elsewhere when we're doing some sort of construction. However, the closet is in front of, and shares a wall with, the bonus playroom, where Kid One and his sister were currently coloring.

You should note that part of who he is results in interesting language patterns. His verbs are askew, he often says things by verbifying the noun he's referring to. He's nailing a nail, for instance.

So there we are, in the closet, when we hear this from Kid One, out in the bonus room:

"Remember to shut the closet door before you screw!"

OMG... I almost died of an aneurysm, I laughed so hard!

Long story short, we did not get those shelves hung, due to lack of correct hardware, but we have successfully gotten coat 1 of the paint up in our room. And so far, it looks lovely.

And we've learned an important life lesson, as well. Always shut the door before you screw, folks.

Particularly Peckish this Morning

2009-07-31T09:08:00.002-04:00

I am decidedly Not SuperMom this morning.

Kid Two has decided that this particular Friday morning is Drama Day... and she's sobbing about *every*thing. I mean everything. Kid One shuts his door, and she cries. We're talking full-out wailing, in that ridiculously high-pitched wail that makes me want to stick chopsticks in my ears.

It's ten minutes after 9 in the morning, and I've just sent her back to bed.

Mean, mean mama.

All I desperately want this morning is to go throw myself headlong back into my bed... my nice, soft, bedecked-with-37-pillows bed. But noooooo. No... that would be irresponsible parenting. Instead, I have to do thinks like drag myself to the grocery store, cause good parenting says I've got to feed these chillens, and since Kid Two's birthday is Wednesday, I need to go locate something that works for birthday presents. How I'm gonna do that with her in tow, I'll never know, but it's got to be done.

And Kid One wants to play dress up... and I've realized that all of our dress-up materials are Princess themed, because you know we're singlehandedly keeping the Disney princess line in business. So... should probably find him a fireman suit, or something. I don't know about these things. Do they even make dress-up stuff for boys? And can I locate this stuff at the Wal-mart? Do I even want to go to the Wal-mart? I think not.

Le sigh. And, even though it's still early, it's HOT. Cause it's Florida and all that.

But, Mom, I don't wanna go out!!

Well, that was a brilliant idea.

2009-07-30T17:10:00.003-04:00

I live in Central Florida.

It's July.

It's HOT. H-o-t. Blazing desert sun hot. Fiery furnaces of hell hot.

So... I, in all my brilliance, decided to drag Kid One and Kid Two out today. Uh, huh.

They were driving me just shy of fruit loops crazy this morning. We hadn't left the house since Tuesday afternoon, so I'll give them a break. I thought we'd go out for the morning.

Off we went, over to the Museum of Science and Industry, a wonderful facility that, apparently, has shoddy air conditioning. We showed up... along with 35 bus fulls of screaming brats*cough*, I mean smiling, charming darlings.

Go to membership desk, as I wanted to get a year's pass, and discovered that 'today only', member passes are on sale, 50% off. Sweet! Excellent! That's delightful. Hand the lady the charge card, and she asks me if I want to take the kids to see an IMAX movie while we're there. The choice today was some fish-under-sea thing, notably, not Nemo, but nonetheless something seabound, and I thought the kids would enjoy it. $15. Ok, fine, here have cash.

As she's printing my ticket, I hear this on the walkie-talkie on the desk. "Attention Box Office: IMAX camera malfunctioning."

She hands me my ticket, smiles, "Thank you Mrs. H, have a great show!" Then turned to confirm that the camera was, indeed, down.

Sigh... ok, so she *should not* have sold me those tickets. But, we'll go with it... hopefully, they'll get it repaired before our movie time, an hour from then.

Off to the bathroom we go. I'm hauling a 5-year old and a 4-next-week-year-old along with me... Gotta remember that bladders are approximately the size of nickels. Go into the bathroom, and we could have sliced the humidity in there with a butterknife. It was awful. About 90 degrees, I swear. I should have known... Should have turned around and came home.

Up we go to the third floor... It was HOT. Ick. Ok, fine.

Mess around, only to find that half the third floor is devoted to the gestational processes of the standard human fetus. Again, Kid One is 5, Kid Two is 4. I *really* don't want to have the BirdsNBees conversation with them in the middle of MOSI. Really don't. It would take hours, and Kid One would go to kindergarten and discuss the finer points of reproduction with his teacher. I am all for Parent-Teacher conferences, but not for that reason.

Back downstairs to the 2nd floor. Earthquake show... which Kid One hated, and Kid Two thought was hysterical. Sigh... She's demented, what can I say? Alright, it's time to go see our movie.

We wander over to the IMAX theatre. Still camera malfunction. Dammit. "We're aiming for the 1:25 show."

...o...k. So we sit. And we wait. And, because it's official that their air conditioner is less than stellar, we *sweat.*

1:30 ticks by... still no movie. I look over, and Kid One is turning that shade of green he gets when he's too hot. Cause he's sensitive to heat, too, to top things off. OK, fine. Let's go.

Fortunately they refunded my money, or there would have been a throw-down. Or something equally Internet-Tough-Guy. So, we schlep our way across the parking lot, sweating like pigs in the sun, because I, in all my genius, parked in an easier to get into parking space, halfway across the face of the planet.

And it's HOT. Shoe-soles-melting-to-the-pavement HOT.

Home, James. Off we went. I had to poke kidlets to keep them awake in the truck... "NO, YOU ARE NOT NAPPING!"

And then we made it home. And now, it's 5:30 in the evening, and they're both still sleeping. I have no inclination to go wake them, either, and I know I'm gonna regret it, when it's 10 this evening and they're still bouncing off the walls. But, it's quiet, and since I keep the house at a crisp 72 degrees, I'm not hot (well, except my toes, but they have their own circulatory system, I think)...

What on earth possesses me to do these sorts of hairbrained things?!

I don't know, but it's scheduled us to go to the zoo next Wednesday. And it's gonna be HOT.

Pass me the water bottle.

I'm pleasantly surprised!

2009-07-29T22:42:00.002-04:00

So far so good! We'll see how this blogging thing continues to go.

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum yesterday... or rather, it happened in the hallway, in front of the bathroom, but hey.

This is the conversation that took place between Kid One and Kid Two.

Kid Two: "I want to play with that toy!"
Kid One: "OK, that'll be ONE dollar."

Kid Two: "Whine, whine, whine, whinity, whine, whine"

Kid One: "Ok, well then, that'll be THIRTY dollars."

Gotta love it. He's a smart one.

Hello World!

2009-07-29T22:06:00.000-04:00

So, I'm venturing into this whole blogging world. I figured enough crazy shit happens to me that people might find me mildly amusing. Whether or not this proves to be the case is a completely different story. But everyone else is doing it, so why not me?

I'd also consider jumping off that bridge, Mom, if all my friends were doing it. It looks like fun.

I don't have much to say at the current moment... but thought I would get something posted, just to wave hello at your Internet folks. Cause you care, and all that.

I yam who I yam, as Popeye would say. I disagree with most people on politics. I'm loud, I love to laugh, I'm a foodie. My shape reflects my incessant urge to eat everything before me. I don't like shoes, I do like chocolate. I love to read, and will read the cereal box if there's nothing else to be had. I've often wondered if I am a woman with something to say.

I've decided that I am. We'll see where it goes. But for the moment, it's late, and I'm sleepy. I'll get back to this tomorrow.

Hasty bananas, Internet folks.