Lazy Sunday

I stole this from Vickee and Joke. They stole it first though, so it's okay.

Accent: A small bit of back East (Maine) mixed with California. If I get lucky enough to go back to Maine, the accent returns after a week. I hung my head in shame when I accidentally called my sister Mona, "Moaner."

Booze: Mix me up a margarita minus salt on the rim and I'll be happy. So I guess my booze is tequila or agave. And don't margaritas sometimes have triple sec? I don't know 'cause I'm not mixing it.

Chore I Hate: Every single darn one of them.

Dog or Cat: It depends on the personality of the animal. I've had some great dogs and some great cats. I've also had some that were less than loveable. Either way, the whole cleaning up the poop thing sucks.

Essential Electronics: Computer, MP3 player, VCR (for the kiddies)

Favorite Perfume: I like the vanilla body spray from Bath & Body Works

Gold or Silver: Neither. I don't wear jewelery. It only calls attention to my fatness.

Hometown: Stupid Town, CA - It's near Sacramento

Job Title: Resident Grouch

Kids: Three.

Living arrangements: House with kids and hubby.

Most admirable traits: Loyal friend, unless your name is "Stalker Stacey."

Number of sexual partners: A lady never tells and neither do I.

Overnight hospital stays: I don't know. I had my tonsils out as a kid. I had some surgery on my lazy eye as a kid. I've also given birth three times. So five or so?

Phobias: Moths

Quote: "Because I said so."

Religion: Scientologist. Heh heh. Just kidding.

Siblings: Two sisters, neither of which I get to see enough.

Time I wake up: About an hour after I get up.

Unusual talent or skill: Does burping on command count?

Vegetables I love: Onions, garlic, mushrooms, acorn squash, yams, zucchini, tomatoes fresh from a garden - not the nasty ones from the grocery store.

Worst habit: Procrastination.

X-rays: Two - One for a torn ligament and one for the thyroid that went to heck.

Yummy foods I make: Comfort-style foods

Zodiac sign: Aquarius - but I don't fit the stereotype

A Day Late and Many Dollars Short

The Friday list that many of you posted was too good to pass up.

"I want to do it too," she whines.

Most of these are fantasy jobs. Keep in mind that I have no real idea of the work involved in these or any aptitude for most of them.

1. Professional Student - I can do this one well. It's fun to go to school. Deciding on a major is the hard part. I would be more than happy to go learn for the rest of my life.

2. Beautiful trophy wife to impotent old rich man. This is obviously a fantasy. I would have to do nothing but work out, go to spas and salons, attend parties and, of course, shop shop shop.

3. Voice of cartoon characters - I would love to go to work in my pajamas and do the voices of various cartoons. It's probably much more involved than that, I'm sure.

4. Photographer for the Chippendale swimsuit calendar. "You know, I didn't shoot it just right. Can you strike that pose one more time? Yeah, that's the one."

5. Librarian - Once again, I do not have the education or the know-how. I did work as an assistant to a school librarian once. I LOVED going to work. When I was a victim of budget cuts, I was truly depressed.

6. Person in charge of devising cruel and unusual punishments for child abusers - I wouldn't have to administer the punishments. I would only have to think them up and hire somebody very sadistic to administer them. Is anyone from Sadaam Hussein's former regime job hunting?

7. Cookbook recipe tester - I would like to cook up the recipes for the person writing the book so they could see if they were any good. Of course they would pay for all the ingredients AND I would get to keep the leftovers.

8. Celebrity stalker - I would skulk around with my camera and telephoto lens snapping unattractive pics of celebrities I didn't like. Then I would sell them to the tabloids. A picture of Tom Cruise cavorting with aliens would be a major coup.

9. PMS Reliever - Women with PMS would come to me. I would hand them out happy pills. The pills would give them boundless energy and put a smile on their face. I would be known as the "bitch whisperer."

10. Bakery owner - I would offer a large assortment of gluten, casein and peanut-free delights. Then people on this funky diet could take their kids out for a donut once in a while.

11. Oil Company Executive - Hey if somebody is going to get rich off raping the American public, it may as well be me!

Yeah, that was eleven. So sue me. :)

Tired - But Not Ready For Bed

All the children are asleep. It's so deliciously quiet.

I'm waiting for my allergy pill to kick in so the flood of snot will lighten to a trickle and I can sleep also.

Due partially to the fact that gas is 3.07 a gallon, I have been skipping the 20 mile drive to the gym and walking around the block a few times instead.

I felt awkward before I started. I wasn't pushing a stroller. Could I even go outside in public without pushing a stroller or pulling a wagon?

I could have taken the dog, but stopping every two seconds so he can sniff or pee on a bush isn't my idea of exercise.

My husband had asked around Christmas if maybe I would like a mobiblu MP3 player.

I told him I didn't think I would probably use it so he didn't get it. But then I thought some more and purchased one for myself. My husband pointed out to me that our MP3's don't have to be converted to itunes to transfer them. They go straight from the computer to the mobiblu. It is less than half the price of an ipod. I know ipods are cooler, but I'm not cool so I really like it.

Once I got up my courage and hooked the headphones, buds whatever they're called to my ears, I started walking.

Not one person yelled, "Move faster fatty!" Phew.

Hearing music made walking, well, FUN. I walked twice what I would have without it. Yes, I should be satisfied with the sounds around me - birds chirping, wind chimes, dogs - but I'm not.

AND I finally found a use for a bra besides making me feel like a boa constrictor has me in its grip. The MP3 player fit perfectly in it so it didn't bounce around when I walked. (The MP3 player didn't bounce, that is.)

I even had a smile on my face. It probably looked like I was ecstatic to be exercising when, in reality, I was listening to Joe Walsh sing about big tits.

I am hooked on the MP3. Does the novelty wear off or is this a permanent addiction?

The Street Where We Live

Today Blackbird at say la vee wanted pictures of the street where we live for show and tell Thursday. (Look to your right for her blog link!) My camera is down so I am stealing some old pics.

The first pic is looking down our driveway to the left.

The second pic is looking down to the right. The second one is representative of our weather today and how it currently looks outside.

Our street is filled with senior citizens. There is a golf course around the corner. Many of them moved here when houses were less than 50,0000.

It is a quiet street. Nobody uses it as a shortcut to get somewhere else as it is out of the way. It is hilly which makes me pant when I walk around the block.

The name of the street has the word "oak" in it. There are lots of oaks around. Guess what I have developed an allergy to? C'mon give it your best shot! :D

We used to see wild turkeys on our street but we haven't recently. I think there is too much building going on and their habitat is being destroyed. That makes me sad.

Remove the Curse!

I have an appointment with the doctor today to get something for these blasted allergies.

Only my youngest daughter (the queen of sick) started vomiting last night. I thought I could take her with me, barf bag in hand, but my son woke up with eye goo this morning.

I refuse to take him in the doctor's office with me. He is a big turd.

So whoever put the curse on me, please remove it.

Or maybe somebody could mail me some gris gris or light a candle in the church or something. We have not had a week without somebody getting sick in at least a month.
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There is a church that puts up weekly signs I have mentioned before.

This week's sign read, "The Redbud is Back. God Did It Again."

If God makes the redbud, who brings us the greenbud?
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Old Hoss did the "I am" meme today. It is one of the funniest ones I've seen and well worth checking out.
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Vickee recommended to me that I get extra speech therapy for my son.

I called my insurance company. We have Cigna. It's an HMO.

Here was my answer.

A person who teaches speech or occupational therapy comes under the label of "behavioral provider", not medical provider. Therefore, their services aren't covered.

Never mind that autism is a neurological disorder. They will treat his body if he should get sick, but they will not treat his mind.

In other words, fuck you very much.
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I saw some strange insects near the laundry pile in the garage. Considering the way my laundry pile smells, they can only be dung beetles.

Since I am stuck at home today, I think I'll go attack that pile.

File It Under "W" for "What the Heck Was I Thinking"

I made attempts to blog this morning, but kept losing my blogger connection. Blog it all anyway.

My youngest daughter has attended many birthday parties, most of them at gyms and bouncetown-type places.

I wanted to have a birthday party at home, an old-fashioned party. I thought this was a good idea. Mwahahahahahahahaha.

The high-pitched squeals began as soon as the guests arrived. A small tribe of children was running around the house like the kindergarteners in "Reecess."

I had a painting project for them. They painted paper mache boxes to take home. I had stickers for them to put on the boxes when they dried. When the time came to finish the boxes, they were totally uninterested.

There were a few normal kid things I had to deal with.

Everybody got three swings at the pinata. There were arguments about who was where in line and who got more swings. There were also arguments about who got more candy. I gave them more candy in the house. Some kids were still shy so I made the others ante up.

SJ has a mini trampoline. There were fights about that. I began setting the oven timer for two minute intervals. When the two minutes were up, it was the next person's turn.

Rachel and Anabella fought over who got to help open presents. I made them take turns.

At the end of the party, they were fighting over the pinata rope. I cut it into pieces so everybody could have some. The rope was the hit of the party. It was like when you buy your kid a gift and they play with the box.

At one point, they all went in my daughter's room to watch a movie. I heard arguing. I told my oldest daughter to go in and take care of it. She has learned fine parenting skills from me. Telling your kid to "quit yer damn whining or I'll smack you upside the head" is fine parenting, right?

My worst moment was that Christopher, who is allergic to peanuts, found a candy in the house that wasn't in the pinata. It was a chocolate egg with a gummy dinosaur inside. I let him have it without thinking. (after I had been so careful with the cake and ice cream and pinata candy.)

He came around the corner asking, "Did this have peanuts in it?"

"Why are you sick?" I asked.

"No," he said.

I checked the package. There were no peanuts in it, but it had been manufactured on an assembly line that processed peanuts.

"You don't need to call my Mom," he said.

Of course I didn't need to call his Mom. I needed to wait until he went into anaphylactic shock and then call his Mom.

I gave her a call and explained what happened.

She asked if he had red spots on his face and he didn't.

She told me that he ate regular M&M's all the time and that he wasn't THAT sensitive to peanuts.

I got off the phone and changed my underwear.

If my oldest daughter, her boyfriend and another of her friends hadn't helped, I never would have made it through.

I also learned that a bag of candy and a painted box are no substitute for a goody bag.

As Christopher was leaving, he asked, "Where's the goody bag?"

I said, "Well I sent bags of candy and I thought you would enjoy your own painted box instead of a goody bag."

"But what about the goody bag with toys in it?" he said. I gave him some frog stickers, some sports-style beads that were for the boxes and a few Cuban cigars and sent him on his way.

The rewarding thing about the party was getting to know a bit more about my daughter's classmates.

Would I do it again soon? Hell, no!

Not only was I ready for bed at seven, but my house looked like the aftermath of a frat party, only with empty punch cups instead of beer cans.

Next time, Bouncetown!

Good Morning World

Today blogger will be down from twelve to two PST, but it won't affect me.

Guess why!

A babysitter is coming at noon and my husband and I have two and a half hours to go out to lunch.

Mexican food and margaritas are calling my name, especially the margaritas.

Two and a half hours seems like too long for lunch. Maybe after lunch we will go out in the RV and, um, check the roof for leaks.
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I also have to go shopping today for all of my second daughter's birthday party stuff. Her party is tomorrow.

I need stuff to bake with. One boy who is coming has a peanut allergy so the cake will be from scratch.

I also need to bake a gfcf cake from scratch. Some of the ingredients in the gfcf cake were processed on the same assembly line as peanuts. Two kids with food issues equals two cakes.

Oh well, more leftovers for me. LOL

I need a pinata and peanut-free candy, a tablecloth, goody bags, goodies, craft stuff and other assorted party stuff.

My oldest daughter has to go to the store to buy a gift for a birthday party she is going to at eleven today.

My second daughter also has taekwando at nine this morning if she can make it.

Busy, busy, busy.

I am going to proceed to get off my butt and start cleaning this house.

Have a great weekend everyone.

My MIL Sent This Story To Me

I had never heard this inspiring story. I'm not sure if everybody else has, but it is worth sharing.

PENDING MARRIAGE

My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing bothering me.

It was her beautiful younger sister.

My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was braless.

One day “little” sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations.

She was alone when I arrived and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn’t overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister.

Well, I was in total shock, and couldn’t say a word.

She said “I’m going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me.”

When she reached the top of the stairs she pulled off her panties and threw them down the stairs at me.

I stood there for a moment, in total shock, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door.

I opened the door and headed straight towards my car.

Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping. With tears in his eyes, my future father-in-law hugged me and said “we are very happy that you have passed our little test…we couldn’t ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family.

And the moral to this story is:

Always keep your condoms in your car!!

My Brain Has Shriveled

I have nothing to write about - NOTHING!

So I will post some of my favorite spam lines for your reading pleasure. I am absolutely positive none of you get enough spam in your inboxes.

"Nice" Shaftoe says, "But it doesn't tell time too good."

(Too good? Shaftoe must be the kid that always asked the teacher, "Can I go to the bathroom?" Then the teacher always said, "Do you mean may I?")

A client to me is a mere unit, a factor in a problem

(Call me a unit. Then try to sell me something. That'll work.)

Bob and childbirth.

(If his name is Bob, I want to see the childbirth.)

"See," she explained, "The library is directly under the gunroom."

(Instructions for Babelbabe and Liz should they get lost at work.)

I have been asked how much of this tale of modern freebooters is true?

(If there's free boots anywhere, my blogger buddy Mary Poppins is getting in line!)

"My eyes are going," Doug says, "Does he look intact to you?"

(How do you check if a man is intact and where do I sign up?)

New impertinent pretext

(Damn those impertinent pretexts anyway!)

Began capital mescaline

(Mescaline, now you're talking!)

Dung beetles cavort tirelessly on Gene's bed

(I made that one up for Old Hoss)

Now that I have shared all these stupid spams, I can delete them. Woo-hoo!

Ms. L Does This

Ms. L. does this and it's kind of fun. This time I did it myself before I looked at her answers. It's a word association thing.

1. Ambition :: Madonna


2. Meatloaf :: Fat Guy Who Sings


3. Celebrity :: Meatloaf


4. Coach :: Birth


5. Slacker :: Stoner


6. Reflection :: Mirror


7. Original :: Sin


8. Risk :: Factor


9. Saved :: By the Bell


10. June :: July, August

My answers are boring. Ms. L's are always much better.

TMI Mom Meets TMI Babysitter

Last night we went to a family counseling meeting.

Only SJ was uninvited. Elder Options, who is performing our respite care, sent out an employee to watch SJ from 7:45 to 9:15.

Her name was Roberta. She looked uncannily like my mother, a bonus as I think it made SJ comfortable with her.

We went to the meeting and got home in time. I knew she had some paperwork I had to fill out stating the times she had watched him.

But first she hauled full-size pictures out of her purse. They were of her dogs. She then showed us the dogs and told us about them. Some of them were dogs who had already gone to the great dog park in the sky.

She regaled us for quite some time with the stories about her dogs. Then she finally got out her paperwork. She mentioned that she hadn't been working for a few months because of her surgeries.

I said, "Well, hopefully you're done with those."

I wasn't trying to pry, honest! I meant it in a "hope you will be feeling much better in the future" way.

She took it as a "share your story please" comment.

She told me that she had had a hysterectomy and hemorrhoid surgery. She said she needed the hysterectomy and that she had told the doctor, "while he was down there, could he take care of the other."

She said that she was sore on both ends. TMI - TMI!

Then she began telling me about her houseguest who had overstayed his welcome by a year and his medical problems.

She told me about missing his birthday because she had to take a client to the E.R.

Then the next day they did his birthday. They did a short hike.

After the hike, they were looking for a Quizno's to eat at. She went to make a u-turn and they found an all you can eat Chinese food place. So they ended up there. And they loved it and wasn't it a good coincidence that she had chosen to make the u-turn there?

By now, my husband and seven-year old daughter had gone to bed.

She talked THAT LONG!

I was saved by the clock. It chimed and she noticed that it was ten 'o clock. She got up to go. I walked her to the door and stood there with my hand on the knob while she talked another five minutes.

I almost started laughing. Is it still respite care if you need respite from the caregiver?

I hope they don't send her out again. She was sweet, but a less talkative sitter would suit me fine.
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I am no longer a Whole Foods virgin. I finally went a few weekends ago with the two youngest children.

Their store brand rice milk was only 1.19 a carton. Wow!

Their rice bread was yummy.

I found gfcf chicken nuggets for my son. He loves them. They were five bucks for fourteen nuggets, but that is two lunches for him.

Most of the people were nice. I ran into one jerk who was tailgating me with his cart. I tried to move out of his way, but the way I moved was the way he wanted to go.

"Sorry, I was trying to move," I said.

He glared at me. Perhaps I was between him and the Preparation H aisle. Perhaps Roberta, the talking sitter, could have given him her doctor's phone number.

The kids and I both enjoyed the man grinding his own peanut butter. He mentioned that he always came there for his peanut butter because he knew it was fresh.
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We played highway sandwich on the way to Whole Foods.

Conditions have to be just right to play this game.

The first player in the game is the person in the left lane who won't move over. They are usually going sixty-five to seventy and feel that they shouldn't have to get out of the way.

You can tell this person immediately when you come up behind them quickly and they continue toodling along.

I drop to a comfortable distance behind these people and cruise at their speed.

Sometimes, though, a person comes up on my butt like speedracer and tailgates me.

I move over and let them pass. I then get back in the left lane and watch them tailgate Mr. "Ain't Gonna Move."

Then, if I get really lucky, tailgater number two shows up. I move over and let them by.

This is where the sandwich part comes in. The "Ain't Gonna Move" guy is the top slice of bread.

The tailgater number one is in the middle.

Tailgater number two is on tailgater one's ass, forming the bottom piece of bread.

Playing games like this almost makes up for having to hear "Itsy Bitsy Spider" as I drive down the road.

Did I just prove to all of you that I am a few fries short of a happy meal?
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My children have vitamins that look like gummy worms. They are called "Daily Grubs."

"Give us this day our daily grubs."

I saw a house for sale. The sign said, "I am beautiful inside."

Where can I get a sign like that?

Vickee Tagged Me

I AM: So tired that I want to drop
I WANT: The doctor to prescribe me a pill that will give me more energy
I WISH: To lose fifty pounds (If wishes were horses, than beggars would ride.)
I HATE: People who cut in line
I MISS: Me
I FEAR: My children dying
I HEAR: My overworked washing machine laboring away
I WONDER: Who wrote the book of love
I REGRET: Many of my parenting failures and not taking better care of myself
I AM NOT: Tactful
I DANCE: Horribly
I SING: In the car
I CRY: When I am really mad. It's uncontrollable and embarrassing.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: Consistent with disciplining my children (Bad, I know.)
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Food for my family
I WRITE: Because it is fun
I CONFUSE: My wants with my needs.
I NEED: To spend more time with my husband
I SHOULD: Take better care of myself
I START: Every day out with a prayer to get through it.
I FINISH: Everything on my plate

A Long and Boring Tale

Honestly, I didn't quit blogging.

I like talking too much. :)

Remember that sinus infection I mentioned my 7 year old daughter had?

She was taking amoxicillin for it.

The day after her birthday, she woke up at three a.m. with itchy hives.

Hives I can handle. I called her in sick at the school and gave her Benadryl for the itching.

I noticed around noon that her knees, ankles and wrists were grossly swollen and bright red. We made a doctor's appointment for 2:45.

The doctor was very worried. He had the nurse test blood from her finger. Then he sent us to the local lab for a real blood draw. Only it was 4:20 and the lab had closed at 4:00.

Another lab that took our insurance was about a half hour drive away. The phlebotomist kindly held the lab open for us. I tried to get there quickly but was stuck behind the inevitable ass driving ten miles below the speed limit in the left lane.

There were nine others also stuck behind this sorry excuse for a person.

I promised my daughter a stuffed animal if she was good for the blood draw. She has too many and I never let her get new ones. The phlebotomist had to dig around with the needle, but my daughter was as good as a seven-year old can be.

I took her and SJ home. By then my husband was home from work.

I went to the pharmacy and purchased Benadryl for her itching and Advil for her joint pain. We had an appointment to see the doctor the next day.

While I didn't know what everything was that the doctor tested for, I did see the box checked on the lab slip for rheumatoid arthritis. I later learned he also tested for elevated white blood cells. I was better off not knowing that as I was worried enough about the RA.

We went in the next day and the doctor told us she appeared to have serum sickness, doctor talk for allergic to her antibiotic. To be safe, the nurse pricked her finger again and ran one more blood test.

Then my daughter mentioned she was short of breath. The doctor listened to her lungs and said he wanted a chest x-ray. I told him that I would pay out of pocket to go to the facility next door then, because the nearest place that took our insurance was half an hour away. My daughter was so sick that I didn't want to haul her around anymore.

He tested her blood oxygen and it was low. He decided to try a breathing treatment first. The nurse brought in a nebulizer and my daughter did that for almost ten minutes. Her blood oxygen went back to normal.

The doctor told the nurse to send a nebulizer home with me, but...the office was out of them. (It's allergy season.)

The staff at the office found a place where I could go get one. I took my daughter home. (My husband was off work that day, thankfully.)

Then I went to get her nebulizer and fill a prescription for Prednisone. I took a trip to the nebulizer place and then a trip to the pharmacy, and then again a trip to the nebulizer place and then again to the pharmacy.

Between Thursday and Friday, I spent at least six hours on my daughter's medical issues. And the house still wasn't clean. LOL

I had to take her in again Saturday morning. The Benadryl wasn't working for the itching. The doctor prescribed adaracts.

I took her home, left her with hubby, picked up my oldest daughter from the train and then picked up the medicine.

The house never got finished, but we did have a great visit with our friends.

My daughter had to go back to the doctor Monday and she has to go back again Friday. She was one very sick little girl.

But now all is well and the sun is out and that is the end of my long, boring story.

I hope everybody had a Happy Easter!

I Should Be Cleaning Right Now

Summary -

My house is improved, but still scary.

It's hard to stop every few minutes to deal with SJ, the amazing turd.

I was looking forward to cleaning while he was in pre-school this week. Then I found out that they are taking spring break. He is all mine!

He had a full day of tantrums yesterday. I now know that he can't have marshmallows in any way, shape or form.

My oldest daughter, who could help, is visiting her Dad for spring break.

I will never be done in time with all that needs done.

Along with all this cleaning, I have had to bake two birthday cakes from scratch, make out invites to the party next week, wrap presents and I still need to make gfcf Easter candy. Sigh.

Yesterday was horrid. I was picking up videos and SJ was throwing them on the floor twice as fast.

I looked up and shrieked, "God do you hate me?"

And God said, "Nah, I just don't like you very much."

Happy Birthday Daughter #2

Happy Birthday to A.
My bossiest daughter
You need to be queen
Like a duck needs the water

Happy Birthday to my big seven-year old.

Happy Birthday Daughter #2

Happy Birthday to A.
My bossiest daughter
You need to be queen
Like a duck needs the water

Happy Birthday to my big seven-year old.

I Can Stop Anytime I Want To, Really...

I went three days without blogging, right?

I usually don't buy tabloid rags, but I couldn't pass up The National Enquirer this week.

Why? There was a picture of Whitney Houston's "Drug Den" (her bathroom) on the front cover.

Now when anybody's bathroom is dirtier than mine, especially somebody famous, that is worth paying my two-dollars and ninety-nine cents, thank you very much.

The picture was taken by Tina Brown, Bobby's sister.

Tina is a recovered addict, but Whitney is still using. Since Whitney is out of money to borrow, Tina decided to sell some pics to The Enquirer for cash. At least, that's my theory.

The whole shame of this thing, IMHO is that Whitney has a young daughter.

Apparently Whitney goes on drug binges, ignores her personal hygiene and pleasures herself with sex toys.

Now the only time she warbles out her sickening rendition of "I Will Always Love You," is when she's serenading her crack pipe.

There's a bright side though. Bobbi Kristina and Francis Bean are now attending al-anon meetings together. (Yes, kidding.)

Remember Whitney's song, "Greatest Love?"

Remember the line, "No matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity?"

It's okay, Whitney, you took it away all by yourself.

Fifteen short years ago, she was beautiful. Now she looks like twenty miles of bad road.

But hey, it's her perogative.

Taking A Blogging Break

Blogging almost sounds like a curse word in that title.

We have company coming in a week and my house looks like the health department should condemn it. It hasn't helped matters that I have a sick child at home who wants to be held 24/7.

So I am trying to take the week off. I may not be completely successful.

If I do anything, I will be reading your blogs.

Ciao until after Easter. And I hope all of you have a good one.

The Fit Hits The Shan

Well maybe it isn't that bad, but the day started out in a way that nobody wants it to start.

I was up on and off for the second night with little guy. He kept coughing and waking up. One time he woke up and said, "drink of dowa." (soda) I told him we had water on the table near us.

"No - DOWA," he insisted. Then he passed out on my chest. We have been sleeping on the couch so I can keep his head upright.

Then this morning, daughter number one woke me up ten minutes late, I crawled out from under him and went to wake up daughter number two. (Number two - it suits her, ha ha.)

She had migrated to my bed and was crying in pain. Her ears hurt and had hurt all night she wailed to me.

This child has missed a good two weeks of school on and off in the last month and a half. Yikes.

I called her in sick and made a doctor's appointment. I made one for little man too, as we were going to be there anyway. I don't usually make an appointment for a coughing kid, but he can't tell me when anything else is going on. Come to think of it, I do make daughter two appointments when she is coughing because it almost always goes to bronchitis or bronchial spasms.

We got to the doctor's office. I tried to read a magazine while simultaneously keeping my son from climbing in the chairs and adding a broken arm to our list of maladies.

We got in to see the doctor. The girl has a sinus infection and the boy has an ear infection.

So we trudged to the pharmacy at the grocery store, dropped our prescriptions and went shopping.

Does anyone remember my post where I complained about shrinking packaging and rising prices?

Ice cream went from two quarts to one and three-fourths.

Sausage, tofu, and coffee went from 16 ounces to 12.

I've noticed two more mysterious shrinking items.

Bacon is now 12 ounces in some cases.

And didn't chocolate chips used to be sixteen ounces also? They're not now!

As I said before, I want my whole pound, thank you very much. Our grocery bills are high enough without getting ripped off in all these little extra ways.

We finished shopping, put the groceries in the van, and walked back in. Two seconds before I made it to the pharmacy line, a man beat me to it. My kids had already hit their half an hour maximum grocery store time, especially the boy. He was getting turdy. I was feeling like twenty miles of bad road and it was taking forever. Aargh.

But my day could have been worse. When I got home, my friend Joy called. While she was driving down the road, her front passenger side window shattered. Fortunately she wasn't hurt.

In fact, she pulled a piece of glass out of her finger and continuted to yoga class. LOL

She said at first she thought it was a sniper. Then she realized it was a rock. She needed to take her van to the shop to get repaired and to have the glass vacuumed up. I told her if I thought a sniper fired at me, they'd be cleaning up more than glass. Joy needed a ride home from the glass shop that afternoon which was not a problem.

I picked up the kids at school at three o'clock (my oldest daughter, her oldest daughter and my daughter's boyfriend.) We drove to the window shop.

The Delta Bedding store was right next door to the window shop. I went in and browsed. We want to get rid of the bunk bed and get two twins for the two youngest kids. A bunk bed is great if you don't have a three-year old strong enough to pull himself up on it who then proceeds to jump up and down. I caught him halfway down once.

The bed prices at the Delta shop were excellent so I am going bed buying later this week.

What started out a lousy day ended up pretty good.

Between Joy's company and the prospect of some new beds, I'm feeling pretty good.

Now to get these sick kids healed and off to school...

Not Much To Say

Don't let your jaws hit the floor, but I don't have much to say tonight.

Are pink pigs flying past the windows yet?

We worked on spring cleaning some more this weekend. I tackled a particularly heinous closet. I ended up with two bags of trash and three bags for charity. Now I need to actually drive the bags to Goodwill instead of leaving them in the garage for months.

Middle child was kind enough to pass her cold on to me and SJ. He has been a bit of a turd today like most kids are when they're sick.

I had to go to the pharmacy to get him some of the kid's medicine that dissolves instantly in his mouth. Otherwise, my shirts gain a tie-dyed effect with little splotches of purple and red, depending on which medicine I try to give him.

It beats me how a kid who will eat non-food objects can so violently reject stuff that is supposed to be injested.

After I went to the pharmacy, I went to the grocery store. There was a little container of cut up watermelon for six bucks. Usually I'm too cheap to pay that, but it looked delicious and it was. I only got a few bites but it was a slice of heaven in the middle of this darn rainy weather that is supposed to last THROUGH APRIL! Come on already warm weather!

My husband was the recipient of my pitiful attempts at wit today. He needed the step stool and asked, "Do you know where the blue stool is?"

"Up the smurf's butt," I replied.

It must be tough being married to a wit like me, but somehow he manages.