Tuesday, January 27, 2009

It's like a see-saw

This morning I woke up in the little known or mentioned "Mood of Death." This mood was made possible by the fucking kitten, who fucking woke me up every fucking half hour last night. She jumped on my feet, attacked my head, knocked crap off the end tables, played with loud things on linoleum and generally made an ass out of herself. John thought this was hilarious. He will be hit in the head with a frying pan when he gets home tonight, unless he comes bearing flowers. Not likely.

The children were tough today. One little guy has had two baths. Because he exploded with poop. Twice. Note: If you plan on having kids, you should know that from time to time they explode with poop. It gets less common as they get older, but it still happens. And it is disgusting. End Note. One little girl, that I spawned, decided to test whining as a communication tool. One has refused to eat, and the other's Mom has been calling a lot to see if he's OK. She's a good mom, but sometimes kids are fussy at night just because. JUST. BECAUSE. There's no Major Ailment causing it. Sadly, this was me with E at the same age, I think. Then again, I've managed to forget all but the wonderful parts of life with her up until now, so I can't be sure. But I remember feeling just like that. I've since chilled the hell out.

And then, when I was feeling like a big jerk for getting on the kid's cases about not throwing, fighting, etc, my Mom shows up. She came over to give me a break for nap time, and ended up taking E home with her. She did laundry and dishes while I slept. She had tea with me. She cheered me up, although I'm sure the sleep helped a bit, too. And then she offered to take my darling little one home so that I could have some alone time tonight. I'm trying not to cry out of gratefulness as I write this. Mom just knows when I need a break. I hope I am this good of a Mom someday. I really, really do, because this woman has been the life saver I have needed so many times, especially after children entered the picture. So now I'm on cloud nine, and I would have been even if E was still here. (I was kind of looking forward to some Mommy time tonight with her, but tomorrow and Thursday will do.) TGIMom.

The Idiot Weather People have once again been predicting the WINTER STORM OF DEATH!!!!! I've been predicting that we will once again get nothing. Funny, though, as soon as Mom pulled out of the driveway it started snowing. I'm glad I sent the snowpants along. John's hoping for a snow-day tomorrow. Me too. But it'll stop snowing by 9, and we'll have just a dusting. Stupid hopes-getting-up weather jerks.

In all this blather, I have some exciting news! I've not mentioned it, because why would I , but E has never had her hair cut. She was born with a full head of curly red hair, and so far we haven't dared to touch it. But lately brushing it, even after a bath with full conditioner and de-tangling spray, has become difficult. Then we (by this I mean I) made the mistake of reading a poem in her children's poetry book to her without reading it first. The poem made mention of how you'll lose part of your ear if you don't sit really still at the barber shop. She freaked out. So now we need to get her hair cut, less we let this develop into a phobia. So tomorrow or Thursday, depending on when my lady is working, we will go to a Beauty Salon (not a barber shop, see how that works?) and she will watch me get my hair cut. And if MY ears are fine, she's going to get a trim, too. Her hair, when wet, is past her butt now, so it's probably time. I'm going to be a dorka nd keep a lock, too. No idea what I'm going to do with it, but as long as I can keep myself from grabbing handfuls from the floor and weeping, one lock will do.

And that's my super long post for today. I have pictures of the knitting needle case, but I haven't uploaded them yet. I'm going to try and add a picture of my pantry. Because Indie Home Ec has a picture of a pntry that looks like it's out of a magazine, and this will not stand. I wish I could post a picture of what the pantry looks like after 3 weeks of John messing around in there and putting stuff "away," but you would die. The mess, it would kill you.

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