Blogging is dumb

But it gives me something to do every once and a while.

I would like to know where all the disorganized moms lost in chaos, mismatched furniture and overgrown gardens are. I would like very much to hang out with them. It appears I am at the bottom of the totem pole in terms of moms and haves vs. have nots. I'm not talking about materialism. I'm talking about organizational skills. Decorated, yes actually decorated, homes. Landscaped (as in actual green grass with no brown spots) and well-tended gardens (as in without weeds). Ah well. That's my goal for 40. When I'm 40, we'll have a land-scaped yard and matching furniture, along with a better kitchen and nicer flooring. Might as well throw that all in there.

I've also accepted that my new social circle is the mom's group. I don't really have a choice. It's them or an entire virtual community of complete strangers I can bond with by playing WoW online for ten hours a day. Since I don't have ten hours a day, it'll have to be contact with actual people. Some of the mom's are really down-to-earth, others less so. But really, they joined the club for the same reason I did. What else were they going to do? For my part, I'm going to make an effort. I'm going to try to dress cute. That sometimes helps.

Okay, maybe I wasn't being fair to the virtual people. Somewhere, in their own existence, they are actual people. As for the mom's club, well, I will always be a sort of outsider. I just see things very differently than, well, most of the rest of the world. But dang it, one day, it'll be a nifty book!

Except that would just bug me, so maybe not.

Campy Books I've Read, or Mind Candy

Just to steal a buddie's idea.

Here are the campiest books I've read, and yes, enjoyed...

The latest:

Undead and Unappreciated -- so hilarious. I'm going to dig up the first two. A good mind candy book.

Club Dead and the rest of Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse southern vampire novels -- hilarious hilarious hilarious.

Even Vampires Get the Blues *sense a theme?* -- this one was only okay. The flower-eating fairy only added to its charm.

Karen Moning's Highlander books, yes, all of them... They all have titles like "Dark Highlander" and "Immortal Highlander" and "Spell of the Highlander" and "Broody Highlander" I'll be checking out the next one, "Just Forget the Plot and Read About Sex with Kilt-Wearing Highlanders Amidst Oceans of Purple Heather in the Scottish Moors Highlander" when it hits paperback because dammit I like highlanders and men in kilts from the teen-centuries. And Scotland. In fact, I'm growing heather in my garden to show my love for the rainy chilly country. I've only killed three of them... the other two are fine!

Laurell K. Hamilton's vamp porn books... all of them, but I stopped enjoying them around 5 or 6, I think. Now I just read them because I feel committed.

Laurell K. Hamilton's first two Merry Gentry Series, dumped those, not committed, too many ewww moments for me. But I occasionally read her blog http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/ mainly because she writes as many pages a day as I do *except for the days she gets past ten* and has actually written novels... the bitch. Karen Moning too, but her website just features books and her cat, and she's cute and perky which is also annoying.

Diana Gabaldan's books are just waaay toooo loooonnnnggg for me.

There were others, but these are the most predominant ones.

I've read several non-campy books, but that's another post. Certain types of literature should never be mixed.

Oh and I read the Da Vinci Code. Sooo overrated.

A nice day

This is a nice day, and is going to be a nice weekend. I can tell already.

McRed is building more computers, apparently, the three working ones we already have aren't enough, while simultaneously keeping the toddlered ones free from boredom by ensuring their railroad track is intact and they each have enough engines to not fight. Donald has been safely found. Drama is almost done cleaning her room and plans to fill her new journal with tales of her woeful and wonderful life. She is excited about her dance recital, and my gosh, that little blonde haired blue eyed girl of mine looked soooo cute in her sooo adorable Alladin-style ballet costume...

We're doing a picnic on Monday, hoping it won't rain us out, and tomorrow McRed is going to finish the last small slab of floor. Go Us.

So, while we are doing nothing today, it's still quite the family day. Last night, we all even sat down, toddlers too, and had dinner together, something I'm trying to sneak in once or twice a week since McRed gets home past the kids dinner time.

Happy Rain Day!

Trouble on the Island of Sodor

Yes, it was a rough night for the inhabitants of the Island of Sodor. Little Tank Engine Turbo was distraught becasue Donald was missing! He tried to be a very useful engine, and looked high and low, here and there, everywhere, but he could not find Donald at all! After a few hours of searching, even the great Sir TuppentopMcRedHat had to call off the search. *Yes, I said a few hours, have you ever listened to a two and a half year old distraught little tank engine calling desperately for his favorite useful engine? It's heart-breaking, not to mention stressful because little distraught tank engines do not give up...

We finally told our useful and worried engine that Donald went bye bye for the night and was now sleeping er somewhere, and tomorrow we would find him. Finally appeased with promises that Donald was indeed safe and reassured by the presence of Clarabelle, Annie, Bill and Henry, Turbo drifted off to sleep at around 9 p.m....

Until 5 a.m., when he woke with his trains, wondering about Donald. Finally, back to sleep next to SirGrumpyMcRedHat, and then up at 8 to drag SirGrumpyMcRedHat to the Roundhouse where they played.

After a few more hours of wondering about Donald, I finally went out in the rain, in pajamas, determined to look under every goldfish cracker, leftover coat and McDonald's french fries until I found our Donald.

Victory.

Now Turbo is clutching Donald, showing him to SirRelievedMcRedHat, mommy, SirRelievedMcRedHat, mommy, etc etc repeat.... Donald. Donald. Look Donald. See Donald. Donald. Black Donald. *We're learning colors now, green Henry, blue tank, brown Clarabell, yellow Bill...* so anyhow, once again, all is well on the Island of Sodor.

Playgroup

So a little boy pushed my little Turbo three times, and his mother just looked at me, and my philosophy is a 'wait and see' and 'let the mother of the offending child intervene first' of course she didn't, so he just turned around and cried to me, and I told him to come here and hugged my sobbing child. Now, yes, crying might have been uncalled for, but sheesh, she could have stopped her little pusher. But this is toddlerhood, and you can't jump in and play rescue all the time, so bleah.

Playgroup, Bear does fine, but Turbo isn't quite so loving of large groups. They usually ignore everyone else and play together, which they do at home anyhow, so I'm not sure if it does them any good, but it gets me out, so there is that.

Now,

Haagen Daaz (however it's spelled) Mayan Chocolate.... YUM.

Coffee

Only a cup of coffee
it doesn't drown the sound
from the closed door
fist banging
feet kicking
mummie mummie
where are you
crying
crying with blue boots on
Go to sleep Bear
Mummie is on coffee break
Shhh shhh quiet as a mouse
Mummie is
pretending not to hear
mummie mummie no no
where are you
shhhh Bear go to sleep
whispers Mummie where
Bear can't hear
A fist pounding
A falling thump
Sounds of fingers being sucked
Bear is on the floor
just behind the door
Shhh sleep Bear, sleep

An odd thought

The Case For Making Babies

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12888599/site/newsweek/

Okay, I knew Putin was going to start paying woman to have kids. I didn't know that for a society to replenish itself it needs two kids per one family. The thing I find amusing in this article is how America is portrayed as better than the other nations because HEY, we are replenishing our society. Go Us. One argument is that we have managed to balance work and family better... ahhh ha ha ha ha -- anyhow... Italy, Germany, Spain and Japan all have declining populations and will be doomed in 30 -50 years if they don't start popping them out. America, well we're doing fine, we're at a nice 2.1 replacement rate. Enough to keep society hopping, not enough to eat up all our resources. Me? I'm at 3:1, just trying to do my part, giving that extra bit to help out. Funny, how declining fertility rates can make an economy suffer. Now look at China. There is an awful lot of people in China, so many, they are trying to limit the amount of children people have. And their economy is booming. So all those folks who think having too many children is a bad thing? Flawed thinking. Time to do your patriotic duty and help replenish society. We are only a percentage point or two away from a declining population, help turn the tide, put off putting off children, have a baby, and give that baby some siblings. Anything less, and you are just part of our society's future decline.

McRed's pre-coffee thought

McRed had a deep thought this morning, so philosophical and truly, truly the kind that must be pondered and discussed over several years. Usually I like these thoughts, but I wasn't even halfway through my coffee when he spouted it, so I told him to blog it and tried to finish my coffee without hurting my brain. I'm not going to spoil his deep thought either. Eventually he'll put it down.

A Truly Deep Thought

My own thought wasn't quite that deep. It was a sudden dawning about.... nylons. The female tie. Oh sure, I own a pair 'just in case' I ever have a need for them, but they have so many runs and nail polish-patches they are really useless. I was running errands when I suddenly realized, I haven't worn nylons in years, and a sudden smile just unleashed itself, because I despise nylons as much as McRed despises ties. They are uncomfortable, scratchy and far too fragile to be practical. I am lucky that I can live my days without having to don those horrible things. Oh sure, when I was younger and actually going out at the time I now go to bed, I occasionally dressed up in the things, but now? Now, I' m nylon free.

The other thing I am free of is heels. Now, heels, in my case, can only be beneficial due to my shortness, but heels are not comfortable. Today, in the store, while I was pushing Bear in the carriage *he refused to go to the babysitting area with Turbo...he's figured out it's free mommy time if he fusses the bugger* I saw the most incredible sight. A well-groomed woman with a trendy hair cut in nice jeans unlike my faded beat up jeans, a white cable sweater over an actual collard shirt, unlike my grey ten-year-old pullover, *I also can't recall the last time I wore a collared shirt* and these two and a half inch heels. Now, first, that's not the usual look people round these here parts don, so she must not be local ha ha, I mean, she was grocery shopping. Who grocery shops dressed like that? The really off thing however, were the two children with her. This woman looked put together, cute, stylish, was wearing a pale color incapable of hiding kid-stains, AND heels, with two pre-schoolers? That is not fair. Now, I know it took her all morning just to leave the house, and she probably had to get up two hours before the kids just to put her look together and match her own kiddies in equally adoring outfits, but still, I don't need that kind of pressure. When I grocery shop with my little horde, I want the other moms grocery shopping to match me -- pair of jeans, pony-tail hair and comfortable shoes, far enough away from sweatpants to not be considered trailer park, but still comfortable and easily donnable in five minutes. And don't even talk to me about make up. Who for? Larry the produce manager? Ugh.

Insomnia

I called Buffalot at 4:45 a.m. this morning and informed him that as I was just actually getting to sleep, I would not be showing up for our gym session. He said holy something or other, good night, don't sweat it, and I KNOW he is assuming it's due to either Bear or Turbo, but honestly, I think it was due to one half glass too much Chilean wine.

I say 'Chilean wine' like I'm in the know on wine, and Chilean wine is in a category of its own. What I really mean is that I read in Sunset Magazine, magazine for northwesterners with WAAAY more money than me, that wine from Chile, or was it Venezuela, no, it was Chile, is comparable to foreign wines which are comparable now to Oregon's wine because, as Looney my sister will tell you, Oregon and France share the same climate, which only means that Chilean wine is as good as Oregonian and French wine, but being from South America, a heck of a lot cheaper. I went and saw a write-up at the local wine section that it was a full-bodied strong red' or some such thing. It was full-bodied. The kind of red that warms your throat as it goes down into a warm comfortable lull in your belly that is so enjoyable, you end up drinking too much. It was called Duo. White label. Very plain. I'd buy it again, but 1.375 glasses appears to have been .375 glasses too much. I tossed and turned and woke up McRed multiple times to complain about my baseless insomnia. The result? We were both exhausted today.

Only I got to take a nap. Turbo and Bear still take two hour naps, and I cherish those two hours, because I know somewhere in the third year, I will lose them. My days of napdom and peacedom will halt, and they will enter pre-school, the drop-off kind, if we can manage to afford it.

I am desperate for new reading. I'm considering rereading something, but what? The Historian? Did it. More Sookie Stackhouse? Haven't gotten to the library. An old classic? Not in the mood for too much thinking. I will probably end up rereading the one mind candy book I have left. I made the mistake of getting rid of all my mind candy, and now, when I need mind candy, all I have is a bunch of text books for my courses, meaningful literature, and books that will make me feel bad for not writing four hours a day. Must get to the library this week. Must have mind candy... need... mind...candy... before the next semester starts.

Good Morning

Last night's blog was a bit, blah.

I have discovered why women have a harder time losing weight than men.

PMS cravings.

Enough said.

Moving on...

I found the solution to my bag/purse problem... a Russian crossover bag. Really, it's like a saddle-bag or messenger-bag or tote or whatever, but the strap is on one shoulder, and the bag on the opposite hip, meaning a hands-free carry system, which is great with twins, because I always need both hands for the boys, and my bag/purse/big-huge-carry-all thing always falls down my arm.

If I hear the word train one more time from my 2-year-old, I'm going to break into tears.

Traintrainupahilltrainchoochooouhohchoochootraintraincomingtraintrain
moretraintraintrainnightnighttrainin
trainingaragetrainupahill...

My favorite is train up a hill. Also, now he is saying train is coming instead of rain is coming. It reminds me of this great country *shuddup* song bout 'the big black train is coming' and the big black train is where all the sinners go, and it stops, and if you get on the train it takes you to damnation and hell, but if you let the train go by you while you're stuck in the desert or side of the road on a hot, miserable day, you still have a chance to be saved. I pretty much, upon hearing the song, have reconciled myself with the fact I'd jump on the train. If I'm not already on it. Maybe that's what Turbo means when he says 'train is coming,' he's actually a toddler prophet, and he's trying to tell me the big black train of sin is heading our way. ALL ABOARD....

Anyhow, trains are Turbo's latest obsession, and Bear's only by proxy. Bear hasn't actually been obsessed with anything since the giraffe on his playsaucer in his early months of life. Now, he's jumped on the train bandwagon, if a train can also be a wagon, and the two sleep with their trains, carry their trains everywhere, and while Bear will actually go do other things, like eat, play, etc, Turbo spent HOURS on the floor surrounded by his little trains on his little track. That is why the trains are good. But wow. Can he talk about trains anymore, you may ask. Must he spend ALL DAY saying train, or using train in every sentence and uttering, and how long can it last? Well. Three days now. Started before that, slowly, but it's bad this week. We shall see how long this obsession lasts. Lets just say we are all very aware of the train whistle in the distance now...

I'm not signing them up for the bilingual preschool for purely selfish reasons... I would be bored. So instead, I'm going to be looking for mini martial arts, gymnastics, or other tire-the-toddlers-out classes this fall.

Now, it's 8:25 a.m. and every person in my family aside from me is asleep. I should have woken them up at 7:30, but then, they shouldn't have shut their alarms off, and for the first time in MONTHS, I've actually enjoyed a quiet cup of bliss. (Coffee for those who don't know me)

Happy Day!

Death of a Couch

The nice, less-than-one-year-okd cream leather couch is destroyed. Thank you Turbo and Bear. They got a hold of some pens, permanent ink, and expressed themselves all over the seat cushions.

Nothing will take the marks out. Now, I'm covering it with pillows, and the children now have a $2 K couch to lounge on... *%#($ # kids.

Other than that, today was good. Turbo is obsessed with trains, Bear is obsessed with taking all of Turbo's trains. I had to go back to the store to find them matching trains. Train drama solved. Had to take the trains in with us to EVERY store today, Target, Home Depot, their playgroup time, and the grocery. But today was a good day despite the trains.

Oops, it's 3 a.m.

That's what happens when you get a book you enjoy. Charlaine Harris' book latest Sookie Stackhouse book *I know, I know, a literary masterpiece* and I read it from cover to cover. I only meant to start it, but I couldn't put it down. Unfortunately, that means that I don't have a 'chill book' to read, so now I have to go pick up all her other non-Sookie-Stackhouse books, but I love her Sookie best! Ah well...

Monday

Ah, Monday.

McRed wakes up needing to go to the doctor for his swollen, pink-rimmed eye ball. I am sure he would have preferred a 10 a.m. appointment, give him time to sleep in, relax and lounge about, but I scored him an 8:45er... he had to get up, hustle and go.

Preschool

I took Turbo and Bear to visit a bilingual school for pre-schoolers, where they teach everything in Spanish. If I enroll these boys, by the time they enter kindergarten, they will be fluent in Spanish, and then, by the time they are in third grade, they will forget it, but is it better to have learned and forgotten, than to have never learned at all? A timeless question.

I could go with a co-op, but that involves, well, parent involvement. I'm more like a drop the kiddies off and bolt kinda mom myself. I can't bolt til they are 3, BUT, I can veg in the room next to their class with a good book :).

Bloody Child

We were GOING TO BE ON TIME dang it. We were. Until misfortune struck. Oh oh. The #*%#$@ choo choo. Yep, them red lights started flashing and I know these red lights are not the kind you mess around with. So we stopped and waited for the long, long, loong, looooong train to go by. So that made us late. I found a nice semi-English speaking person who asked if I needed help when I got to the school which is located in a Spanish Catholic Church. Mind you, the only thing that makes it Spanish is that the majority of the congregation is, well, Spanish speaking. Anyhow, I let the boys go and Turbo took off and got a fairly good distance when SPLAT and I just picked him up. He fussed, but then shooshed so I made the mistake of not checking. So we enter the doors to the preschool to... gasps.. HE"S BLEEDING... Now, most mom's would go, OH NO poor baby oooh... Me? Ha. I'm thinking "#(%_#$ y%) bloody child would be do this to me today. Now, he didn't fall and wound himself completely. He just reopened an old scab wound, sharing his blood with his brother's new shirt, all over his new green cargos, that luckily, hide blood real well, and mommy's shirt. We got him fixed up, to which, to all our shocks and horrors, in class, he proceeded to fall four more times. /boggle. So there we were, late and bloody. I bet they will be thrilled to find we may join them on a more permanent basis.

Catholic churches

Going to that parish made me reflect on my childhood. The boys and Drama better hope I stop reflecting wistfully or they may find themselves sitting in Sunday school every other week or so for the next 15 years.

P.S.

P.S. to the blog below...

Check out McRed's new blog, Common Nonsense... You'll find a link to it on the right... He hasn't officially blogged yet, he just has one short introductory post. I believe he's going to use it as a forum to pontificate on matters great and small. It'll probably be more amusing than mine, which is mainly a blog to babble.

Happy Mother's Day

It's 2:30 a.m. on Sunday night, or Monday morning.

Happy Mother's Day to me. I gardened all day. I gardened all weekend, actually, and now my eye hurts. I can't decide if it's a) because I gardened outdoors when I'm allergic to the outdoors b) my husband who somehow got pink eye sharing it with me or c) me thinking I have pink eye because it's 2:30 a.m. and what else is there to do at 2:30 a.m. but let the mind wander off to worry-worry land?

So what, at 2:30 a.m., could the mind worry about? Haven't you see any of those sleeping pill commercials? Lets see, here's my mind "ow, your eye hurts, pollen, no worse, pink eye, no, leprosy, it'll fall out by dawn" and "the bills are due next week. You'll never make the bill due dates, in fact, all the bill dates just changed to tomorrow and not next week after all, so you're doomed, because now you'll never make the magically changed due dates, they will shut off your tv, electricity, water and everything else" and "The insurance company needs paperwork from you, and even though you faxed it over a week and a half ago, you need to send it in again, and call, because they didn't get the fax" (which may actually be possible but still, 2:30 a.m. concern? No.) "Your cats now like to go outside. They have been outside, and one spent the night outside, and now he has ticks, lyme disease, fleas, and the bird flu, and you need to take them all to the vet for ticks, fleas and bird flu, tomorrow" and "it's not pink eye, it's the bird flue, we're doomed."

Anyhow, the list goes on. Normally I would just stay up and chill a bit and let my mind mellow out, and sleep in a bit, but I have to get up at oh, 5:15 *only ten more gym sessions left and then I can go back to my nice cardio workouts at like, 10 a.m. instead* and I don't see how I'm going to get through tomorrow without a nap. I can always tell it's going to be a rough day when I start looking forward to the next day's nap before I even officially wake up.

Tomorrow, or today, we check out the bilingual preschool for the boys. Hope I like it.

G'night.

Maybe now I can sleep.

Go to sleep

My sons have been testy today. One woke up with a major case of the grumpies that hasn't disappeared and the other one woke up babbling and still hasn't stopped. I'm waiting for them to sleep because I want to water my strawberries and plant some of the plants still in their flats.

It's almost time for their fun playtime sessions to end, and I'm going to be stuck with toddlers home all day for the summer. I am going to try to sign them up for one class a week, in something, but really, I predict they will be playing in the back while I attempt to contain the sprawling garden, and I'll probably drag them to a playgroup every now and again and a story time.

I don't know what to do with Drama yet. She is being forced to take swim lessons, because she loves the water too much for someone who can't swim, *yes she's had swim lessons before, but somehow, still can't swim* but after that, I think she's going to want more dance.

Other than that, my great Ikea trip may be postponed due to Grumpy, er Bear. We will see what state he is in when Drama gets home. I want to scout out toddler bedrooms that involve places to hide toys. They aren't getting new sets til fall, and the beds will only be used for like, two years, but they are too young for real bunk beds or loft beds, and the crib beds aren't cutting it. I may change my mind and make them sleep in them til they are five, it depends on what the price for a new set of beds is.

Neighbor fight! Neighbor fight!

I am surrounded by neighbors. I know this is surprising, especially since I live in a suburban community, and that would be the last place you'd expect to find neighbors.

Anyhow, neighbors all around all have children. The parents of the second grader are friendly with us. By friendly I mean I've actually conversed with the wife and they've had our daughter over for the night before. The husband and I speak often through a variety of waves and several different levels of smiles from 'bad mood hi' to 'elated thrilled to drive by you today.' I anticipate progressing to a full conversation sometime this summer.

Now, neighbors to the right of us, with the kindergartner, and the boy I totally pegged as 'potential playmate to Turbo and Bear' aren't quite as friendly. In fact, I once spent an entire night torturing the husband until he finally revealed that yes, he did indeed recognize I was a fellow member of the human species and not actually some alien that was just tagging along for some free candy on Halloween. His wife smiles and pretty much ignores me.

So I'm minding my own business the other day, weeding what I hope was the flower bed on the west side of the house, as my HOA shame-letter instructed me to do, when the neighbors with the potential playmate suddenly hail me with a greeting! OHMIGOSH. I did not know what to do. These people never greet me with anything, although admittedly, to be kind, he did start my mower as I pathetically couldn't get it to start... but generally, persona non grata. So I talk. gecause that's what I do when people talk to me, only, shutting off the talk is hard for me, but hey, we all have our faults... I was so confused with the whole talking thing I had to give up weeding and get a beer.

The next day, Drama and second-grader are doing jump rope, hula hoop and an amusing attempt at the pogo stick when the kindergartener and parents come home. The girls ask if the kindergartner can come play, when all of a sudden what does she do but unleash a torrent on the second grader of how rude she was, how even her MOM said she was rude, and she's just rude. Now, I'm tuning all of this out, when I hear 'and my mom said you were rude' and then my ears perk. See, mom's should KNOW to never tell their kids another kid is such-and-such, because they will repeat it, and if mom is friends with other mom, it gets testy. So nothing happened, after letting her friend know her sins, the kindergartner proclaimed that after the park she might play and we all went our merry weeding way.

Soon, while pulling something that's thriving far to well to actually be a planned perennial, the second grader's mom starts walking. I see her out of the corner of her eye and figure she's walking to the mailbox. I take a moment to think this is odd, because it's the dad who always gets the mail *I swear I do NOT watch these people all day, it's just that our routines cross often* and then I realize, quite alarmedly, she's coming over to see me. Most people wouldn't be alarmed, but when your neighbors never really come over to see you, and then suddenly beeline in your direction, it's mildly disarming. Was she going to complain about the weeds on the west side of my house?

So there I stand in my yard, leaning on a rake, trying to act not surprised. She wanted to know what was up with Kindergartner and her kid, and what was said. Now, what am I supposed to do? Say nothing? I just told her. Turns out the kids had a tiff a few weeks back, but the parents had a fit. Kindergartners dad told second grader's dad that his kid was a jackass. A JACKASS ha ha ha. Second graders' dad flipped. Moms talked and then, silence... for weeks. One of the major faults? My Drama spent the night, but kindergartner was not invited... umm...

Now, to prove that I don't spend my days watching my neighbors, I had NO IDEA there was a bit 'thing' going on, or that Drama's sleepover debut was an issue. I think it's a silly fight, but the parents were fighting, and second grader's parents didn't like that the other parents let kindergartner berate their daughter without interfering. I didn't interfere because, well, kid stuff. Plus I had weeding to do. What I thought was interesting was that second graders' dad described me as 'watching and standing guard' which I thought was silly, until I realized that actually, when kindergartners tone got harsher, I stood up and got closer and started listening, which was why I could recount the entire conversation. Good thing I can be stealthy huh? Can't trust those kindergartners... a danger they are, danger to us all...

I predict they will be friends by tomorrow, because there was scurrying between houses tonight reported to me by McRed who thought the whole exchange was funny because yes, our neighborhood is that boring. McRed then informed me that because I rehashed the conversation to the parents, now I'll go back to being persona non grata and NO ONE will talk to me again, which is very likely, but at least the weeding will get done.

Eventually they will get bored of not talking to each other and sort things out, though I imagine some trust has been lost, words after all, were said, specifically, 'your daughter is a jackass,' so there may be some lingering bitterness. But still, that is not my concern. I have only one duty here, and that is to stay neutral so my kids can play with all their kids while I weed.

WOHM vs. SAHM

I've been reading this silly blog which I won't post to save everyone a week of misery before finally pulling the plug. Essentially, it contains the angriest WOHMs and SAHM's you could find. Now, there are a few sane ones, but they get lost in the pity-party battle, because this is what the blog is, a fight to earn the right for more pity. It's a giant, festive pity party of angry, bitter crybabies who would like some violin music to play to their cries of 'I matter more.' The thing that makes it hard is that both sides are holding their pity party on the same blog, so there's a lot of hostility. Now, keep in mind, most of these WOHM's make a lot of money. Not all of them admit it, but lets face it, the only people who have time to hang out on a blog during the workday are people who make decent money. Everyone else is too busy working. Let me sum up the entire argument by listing here what the actual argument is, and what these women REALLY mean when they say what they say.

WOHM's - we are more valuable as women because we have an education and jobs and maintain self-identity. We aren't hostages to babies and husbands and are too important to worry about diapers, home-made play-doh and helping out with the PTA by pouring punch during kindergarten parties. If we can show up, we will and it means we are great moms and if we don't it's because work is too pressing, and we're still great moms, just great moms with an important job.

SAHM's - we are more valuable as women because we have an education, we even mostly had jobs, but we chose to leave the workforce to care for society's most important commodity, it's future. If we go to work and farm our children out to daycare's and nannies and relatives, what are we doing but giving them inferior care and we all know how important early education is to children. We do this because by doing this, our children, and not the children of WOHM's, will grow up to do great things, and they will be so thankful to us they will fund our retirement, since by not working we can't actually invest in our own 401Ks.

WOHM's - you stay home and smother your children while you eat chocolate, watch Oprah and hang out with other mom's.

SAHM's - you hang out in the office all day, buy fancy clothes, and outsource raising your children so you can attend office functions and eat out for lunch everyday talking about how hard it is to work and then come home and deal with cranky children who haven't eaten, AND you TiVo Oprah. Then you talk a tough game to all the guys saying 'I am working woman hear me roar' while at the same time you are secretly worrying because your kid is home alone for the firt time with a new babysitter while you are out ensuring your professional future. Then you confide in your working girlfriends how hard it is to advance in your career because half the office found out about your children and now think of you as a working mom and not a career person.

WOHM's - you go take your precious little excuses for not working to the mall in cute little strollers and browse all day with your Starbucks mocha. Then it's off to the park on a sunny day where you just gossip about your husband's jobs and all the women they work with. THen you come home and throw some hamburger helper on the stove and call your day hard and as your hsuband to take the kids because oh wahh, Timmy had a Tantrum.

SAHM's - jealous.

WOHM's - insignificant.

SAHD's - what about us?

SAHM's/WOHM's - you so don't count, you think it's a vacation, whatever, go get a job. Oh but wait, your wife has the job. Why don't you go buy her flowers, with the money she earns, and thank her for giving you the opportunity to stay home and louse around you lazy git.

WOHD's - what about us?

SAHM's/WOHM's - you are men, your place is in the workforce, shut up and suck it up and bring home the money, and then when you get home, do the freakin' laundry, too, just because you work doesn't mean you should get out of household and kid duties.

Single, Childless/married, childess - what about us?

SAHM's/SAHD's/WOHM's/WOHD's - quit your bitchin' and get back to work. Your money is all yours, you have no bills, and your last vacation was to the Bahamas. Nobody cares about your sob story.

SAHM's - can't believe these people. Oh we don't have kids, but we deserve rights.

WOHM's - yeah like anyone ever cared about us when we didn't have kids.

WOHD's - they all think they'll never get married and have kids, idiots.

SAHD's - I love watching a 9-lb ball of life smacking them right in the face. Oh then all of a sudden it's 'I don't know I"m so torn I want to be a good parent but these hours...

WOHM's - then they come running to us 'how do you do it' have you seen our homes? we don't.

SAHM's - then they say to us 'how do you do it' and we say have you seen the car we drive?

SAHM's/SAHD's/WOHM's/WOHD's - whiners. lets have a barbecue. We'll let the kids run around naked in the kiddie pool while we drown in margueritaville. Open invitation to those bringing kids.

Croc a lot

Because it matters to Drama that we have the same of something. It matters so much that she wanted a red pair rather than her normal fuschia, pink, purple color fare. Then when she got them today *she's been in a mood for a week because they didn't ship her shoes with mine and had to wait longer* she insisted I wear mine. So here are our crocs. Aren't we all just adorable?



And check out that non-turquoise floor!!!!

Updates....

But First:

Banking with Bank of America

The bank has erroneously entered a deposit of thousands and thousands of dollars into our account. I feel I should call them tomorrow and rectify the situation. McRed feels I should just let it hang out in our bank account for a few days, see how it feels, enjoy it, see what it's like to actually gather some interest on it, and then rectify the situation. We've been at it for an hour. We all know I'm going to call and rectify the situation. McRed feels by doing so, I'm getting the teller who erroneously gave me all the money fired. I doubt it. It would eventually come back that um, we don't actually have that money, nobody is giving us that money, and um, some nitwit's finger just slipped on the number pad a few times resulting in a large amount of money nowhere near in relation to the amount McRed actually brings home....

Now, on to the updates:

Marketing plan... 88 baby.... WOOOOT.... can you say not taking the final? It actually worked out really well, if I take the final, I can only hurt myself. So not only am I not taking the final, I'm not taking the final guilt free, knowing that doing so would not raise my grade any higher, since I can't get a grade high enough on the final to do so, but COULD lower my grade... GUILT FREE GOOF OFF! Okay, admittedly, I don't really suffer guilt about things like, not taking tests I don't have to, but anyhow....

Air conditioning... all hail the heat. We got an estimate. For the amount that it would cost to add central air to our home, I could a) re-do my bathroom... twice b) re-do kitchen cabinets and buy new appliances or c) re-do cabinets and re-do the bathroom. Sooo the new plan is to buy a room cooler, McRed has been charged with this mission. He has to report to the crazy mecca he is always on about, someplace called Frys, or Fries or something, and buy a room cooler that Gravy was telling me about. He said they cost $300, which isn't enough to re-model my bathroom, so is acceptable. Also, we are moving all the 'adult' furniture upstairs like I wanted in the first place, and sticking the kids stuff in the basement, so this summer the boys will be in the cool lower level of the house. The salesman was aggravated, but now it makes sense. It's only hot for about TWO MONTHS. Sooo easier to hang out with the kids in the basement and add a room cooler for the upstairs. So yes, I will sweat, just not lots. And we'll buy more fans.

Drama.... Her room VICTORY.... It's clean clean clean. Every day I make her spend 15 minutes putting away stuff I'm pulling from the children's version of the bag of holding. Everything on the floor went into the big black bag, minus clothing which went into a separate one for Mom to sort through. So she's kept her room spotless for, seriously, TWO DAYS. She gets an allowance if it's clean on Sunday mornings. What she doesn't know is she's never seeing all that junk paper she collects for fun again. I don't know why she feels she should collect paper. I mean, yes I do, but it's called junk mail and I am always happy when I purge the household of it...

Garden... Okay, I stopped shopping. I'm even going to wait on the lime tree... it's hard but the lime tree can wait. I really want it, but it's just not the time. I should plan the things I have first. I bought fish emullsion for the roses. I bought a bulb planter. I bought Drama a cactus she named Max Prickle. I bought planting soil and food for the vegetables. I found weed and moss killers in the garage. This weekend, big planting, de-weeding and death-to-moss weekend. Also, weekend of 'preparing soil for imminent arrival of mail-order plants.' Drama will help. Turbo and Bear will probably eat my flowers again.

Training... I LOST 5 POUNDS. I don't know how or when, but I'm not complaining. I'm just trying not to celebrate by eating.

Floors... Goodbye ugly carpet... hello really cool-looking, almost-done, floor. Tomorrow, when I'm scramming to do my last three-page paper due with five references, one cited, that I haven't started on that's due by midnight, McRed will be finishing the last bit of floors by the stairs. May is the month of baseboards and actual stairs, and moving nice furniture upstairs.

Cucumbers, eggplants and lettuce

I can stop whenever I want... really...

The thing is, I can't actually plant much more outside than what I have planned, but believe me, once all the plants are in the ground, if there is so much of an iota of space, a spot, a section, a piece of bare soil, it will be planted... So I didn't buy anything else for the garden except for purple coneflowers... la la la shh.. I'm sure I can find room for them somewhere... I mean, this is impressive. You have no idea how long I struggled before finally putting back the pumpkin and corn seeds.

What I did do, however, after reading Sunset Garden's special publication with 160 of the easiest things to grow and what veggies are great in containers, is yep.. CONTAINER PLANTING... I'm going to plant cucumbers, eggplants and lettuce in containers :) So excited... now I just need to buy fertilizers, plant foods and fish emulsion oil...

Just a thought...

If food of the future tastes as crappy as energy bars do now, we're all going to starve to death.