The Queen's Rambles

I really don’t care to know my sister’s business, but my mom insists on sharing. I haven’t personally spoken to my sister in about 18 months. This sounds really terrible, but I just have no interest in knowing her. If she was a complete stranger I wouldn’t think twice about abandoning her.

But her kids. . . yeah. . . they hurt my heart.

Anyway, my sister’s body is starting to shut down. Years and years ago when I first met my LJ friend, Jenn, I learned about celiac disease by reading her daily struggles. I looked up some more information, asked my sister some pointed questions, and diagnosed her with celiac disease. As far as my non-doctor self could tell she has a text book case of it. I told her over and over that she needed to request the test, but she always said the doctor couldn’t give her the test–it was too hard, it wouldn’t work for her, blah blah blah. From what I gather of the test it is just a simple blood test initially (followed by an internal biopsy if the blood results indicate celiac), so I’m calling BS.

Five years later and guess what she was just diagnosed with? Celiac. And since she’s let it go for so long it has caused so much damage to her system that she can barely eat anything without having intense illness. She’s severely allergic to dairy and who knows what else. I remember when I first met Jenn she was also allergic to tons of things because of the damage to her system from celiac. Jenn, did you ever heal yourself enough to eat some of your previous allergens?

Eating an allergen free diet is extremely difficult, even for the most responsible person. My sister has been a type I diabetic since she was 21 and she rarely keeps her sugars under control. She eats a ton of candy and chocolate, as well as drinking plenty of alcohol. This has wreaked havoc on her body and things are starting to shut down.

She is also suffering from pretty severe neuropathy, which is not a good sign.

She’s been killing herself slowly for years. I just wonder what all this means. How long can a person live with diabetes and celiac disease if they are unwilling to follow the necessary diet? You’d think she’d be damned sure she kept the wheat and dairy out of her diet since she suffers so much. I know it would be hard, but it seems like it would be worth it to avoid intense intestinal distress. You’d think a mother would want to be as healthy as possible so she can watch her children grow up.

I told my mom to make sure my sister knows to tell her kids’ pediatrician about the diagnoses and get them tested. Perhaps that would explain their stomach problems as well. My understanding is that it runs in families. In fact, I may ask for the blood test when I go in for my physical. I have zero symptoms, but my understanding is that it can be asymptomatic.

So. . . . I have no idea what is going to happen or what I think about what is going to happen. It is going to be a horrible, horrible thing when the inevitable happens. My mom is going to have a nervous breakdown. The kids. . . oh lord. I don’t even know. Will their dad decide to keep them? If he as a decent person there wouldn’t even be a question, but I have no idea what he will do.

And who knows. This might drag on for years.

We’re lucky we live in a country with mostly free-will (let’s not get into abortion debates), but at this point my sister needs to be locked up in a mental hospital and fed a regulated diet to bring her up to health. Won’t happen, but it is the only way she will live. I hope I am wrong about that.

This week has been a whirlwind! I can’t believe it is all ready over. I’ve been almost completely incommunicado with my internet friends, which I hate. I haven’t even read LJ in two days. How can this be?

Monday started with a gigantic Easter egg hunt planned by yours truly. It was an extremely successful event despite snow and a change of venue. I was freaked out because I thought I would be out over a hundred dollars if no one showed/paid for their eggs. In the end we only had four cancellations and three of the people have already paid me so I’m only out $3.50. I think the other lady will pay me; it’s just a matter of catching up with her. I can swallow $3.50 much easier than $112.00.

Planning such a large event is completely out of my wheelhouse. I thought we might get six families, not 20. We had three adults and four seven year olds hiding 32 dozen eggs that kept popping open. You’d be amazed how much energy that takes. Just when we’d think we were done, someone would pull out a few dozen more eggs. Over and over and over!

Tuesday was a great day–my birthday!

Wednesday was completely hectic. We drove down to a Chuck E. Cheese an hour away (Sterling, VA) to meet with friends that moved to VA last year. We miss them so much, but it is hard to find time to visit. My stupid GPS failed half-way there and I didn’t have another adult with me so I couldn’t reboot it while flying down the highway. Instead, I followed the listed directions and ended up going down Leesburg Pike, which was insane. For those not familiar with the area, you never want to go down the Leesburg Pike. It is a big, heavily trafficked road with a million stop lights. I was supposed to take a nice little freeway, but once I lost GPS I didn’t dare. This is what comes of relying on technology. I generally have better luck if I print out a google map, but the GPS talks to me. I like the talking bit, even if I do yell at the lady-voice.

It was great to see our friends, but Chuck E. Cheese during spring break is not the best meeting place when you’ve got five kids to keep track of. We didn’t have much of a chance to chat. We would have preferred to meet at a park or the Reston Zoo, but it was freeeeeeezing outside. Boo for all this cold weather! It does not feel like spring at all.

Thursday was supposed to be my day of rest, but Elsa still had her MyGym class. When we came home from that, we took my mom over to a senior living apartment complex and had a tour of the place.

It was completely horrible. It looked pretty and had lovely common areas, but it was the most depressing place I’ve ever been in my life. All the residents we saw were at least 10 years older than my mom. It smelled like old people. Erik walked in and started gagging on the smell. He asked our tour guide why it was so stinky. He’s tactful, that one.

A lot of the residents had decorated the outside of their doors, kind of like you would do in a dorm. I suppose it was nice for them to express their individuality, but it made the whole thing seem even sadder somehow.

The apartment was TINY. I’ve had bigger hotel rooms (now that we usually get a suite). I can’t imagine shoving my mom into this tiny little room in this awful, awful place.

My mom didn’t say much, but tonight at the dinner table she said her plans had changed and she won’t be moving here. I finally said “yeah, that was the most depressing place I’ve ever seen” and she looked so relieved. She thought she was just being picky, but she also found it completely unsuitable.

I knew she wouldn’t move out here, which is why I’ve not been totally stressing about it. There’s no way in hell she’s leaving my sister and her kids, though I was pissed that she thought she could just walk away from the kids. Their poor little lives are awful. I found out tonight that the two big ones set a tree on fire. Firefighters had to come and put it out, then the kids were required to go talk to the fire chief. My mom went with them and said the fire chief was really concerned about them because it was obvious their life was in turmoil.

And she thought she could just leave them? She’s their only source of stability!

It’s not fair, and it’s not right, but it is true.

Two weeks ago my mom was convinced that my sister had her shit together (she’s always convinced my sister is getting her shit together. Thirty six years she’s been convinced of this fact, but it has never once been true). My sister had broken up with her boyfriend and she and her husband moved into a HUD house together. I don’t know why my mom thought this was a sign of something good. They are awful together and can never remain faithful (or non-violent, though my sister is the one who beats the shit out of her husband).

The day after my mom left, the husband left and my sister moved in her boyfriend. Now, apparently, the husband is flying to New Jersey next week to be with his high school sweetheart. The high school sweetheart has no idea what she’s about to get into. Yikes!

Let’s just hope my sister doesn’t completely fall apart until after Mike and I are back from FL. Can she hold out ten more days? I do have childcare covered, but I don’t want to put my friends in that position and have all that stress on my heart when I am supposed to be out enjoying my husband.

I’m not sure what my mom is going to do now. She gave away almost all her possessions, including her car. Her house is on the market. I told her she should still sell the house and move into something smaller, in a nicer neighborhood in her hometown. She had no idea what I meant. She thinks her house is in a nice neighborhood because it’s three blocks from Wal-Mart. Mike and I about died when she said that. Klamath Falls is a pretty bleak place, but there are nicer neighborhoods if you are willing to live more than five minutes from Wal-Mart.

In the end, there is simply no way in hell that she can ever afford to move out here unless she wins the lottery.

According to a cost of living comparison chart this is how much more things cost here:

Groceries 14% more
Housing 105% more
Utilities 17% more
Transportation 2% less
Health Care 9% less

I’m glad that dream has died, but I wish it had died before she gave away all her stuff.

And now I am going to go watch Grimm. Maybe Mike will even go with me and protect me from the big, bad wessen.

I can’t believe I’m 39. It does not seem possible, though the mirror certainly tells me it is true. Having kids has wreaked havoc on my appearance. Yikes!

I had a pretty great day, as long as I wasn’t focused on the number. It’s spring break, so I got to sleep in. Since my mom is here, so I got to go to BodyPump without dragging along the kids. Going someplace without reluctant feet draggers is always a treat.

After a shower, we all piled in the van and headed to a book store. My mom watched the kids at the train play area while I wandered the store.

I adore wandering in a bookstore, but I don’t like to read paper books anymore. It makes me sad that I don’t enjoy those paper books, but the Kindle is much easier to handle and much more convenient so I know I won’t read a real book. I noticed the bookstore is becoming more and more like a toy store. I guess they have to do something to make money.

Several months ago we discovered that the next Magic Tree House book was coming out on my birthday, so Erik decided that’s what he wanted to get me for my birthday. We had a talk today about the whole “getting someone they actually want” thing. I bought the book for him, but made him get me something else. He randomly grabbed a book and asked my mom to hold it. I put it back and replaced it with a blue cupcake puzzle. He didn’t really notice. One day he’ll be a full functioning person that understands the value of gift-giving. One day.

Honestly, he has matured so much lately. I can’t believe how easy he’s been lately, and how grown-up he seems when he does his morning routine without help and wants to do so much cooking. All this hard work is paying off. End segue.

Afterwards, we headed to Target to get toothpaste, light bulbs and Cadbury Cream eggs. The toothpaste and light bulbs were necessary, but the Cadbury Cream eggs were just my special birthday treat.

Of course the light bulbs were the wrong ones. AGAIN. I have no idea what kind of light blubs we are supposed to be putting in my bathroom. None of the ones I find seem to function well on a dimmer switch. I bought a kind that looked like bathroom bulbs, but they don’t even fit in the holes.

Tonight we met up with our family friends for Mexican food! Yummy! They never go out to eat because they are afraid to take their kids anywhere, but their kids did fine. I can’t fathom not going out to eat since it is the thing I enjoy the most. I get really grouchy if we don’t have our Saturday lunch out.

Afterwards we came back to our place for cake and presents. I got a nice haul of Amazon gift cards, strange DVDs that Mike picked up somewhere, and. . . . . . Kenny Chesney tickets!!!! Very appropriate since he and I share a birthday!

All in all a pretty perfect day! Made even more perfect by the knowledge that Mike and I will be sunning ourselves in Flordia, hugging Harry Potter and palm trees this time next week. I am beyond thrilled that we finally have a chance to do this type of vacation. I was worried about leaving Elsa with my mom since Elsa can be so shy, but she is obsessed with her grandma so I think it will all be ok (if my sister can keep her act together).

Want to hear something private that made me all flustered and blushy today? Of course you do. Why else would you read a person’s diary?

I figured out that I will likely be having my period on this vacation. Ugh. Figures, doesn’t it? Then I remembered my old friend, Instead (now called Soft Cups). I used Instead for several years until I discovered my Diva Cup. The Instead is a disposable cup that you can use while having marital (or non-marital) relations. I love my Diva Cup–it is much easier to use than the Instead. I always found the Instead leaky. But. . . . obviously the Instead has one big advantage! It is going to save our anniversary vacation. What’s the point if it doesn’t involve lots of maritalling? The shipping was the same price as the cups, which almost made me not buy them. I NEVER pay for shipping. However, I had a stern talk with myself and told myself that $6 was a small price to pay for a sexy vacation. Duh. I’d spend a lot more than that just to have a little alone time. But paying for shipping *shudder*.

Anyway, the package was on the porch when we arrived home and the kids and my mom were like a bunch of yipping puppies. What’s in the package? Let’s open it! What’s in the package? I want to see! What is it what is it what is it what is it?

You’d think I get enough boring packages that they wouldn’t get a thrill if they see a box on the porch.

Normally I am pretty smooth and can tell my kids all sorts of falsehoods that make life easier, but all I could think of was “sex package! sex package!” and I was all sputtery and embarrassed. My mom must have been super curious.

It’s kind of funny since both kids have seen my Diva cup many times and Erik sort of knows all about it. He calls it the blood cup. I think I was mainly embarrassed that my mom was standing right there, yipping with my little puppies about the stupid package.

Finally I thought fast and told them it was my deodorant and they stopped slavering after the package.

And now I better run off to bed. I drank a glass of wine tonight (love, love, love sleeping so well when I drink this wine! So glad I discovered a kind I enjoy) and now I can barely keep my eyes open.

I had worked myself into quite a tizzy of stress on Friday. I have so many things that need to be done that it was starting to turn me into a non-functioning ball of nerves. I made my list–why, oh why, did it take me 38 years to discover lists?–and started knocking off the easy items.

That didn’t do a whole lot to decrease the stress, though. There were several “not easy” items on the list, mainly “not easy” because I have no freakin’ clue how to approach the problems.

First, our living room was a disaster. I couldn’t see how it would ever be normal again, but at least we were able to take the old chair to the dump and free up some room. Then Mike completely alleviated that stress by cleaning it up and moving the furniture all around. My new chair is still a horrible fit for the room–it is too big and too yellow–but if you look at the room from the front doorway you can’t see it. He’s much better at design type things that I am.

My yard is also stressing me out x(1,000,000). We moved in four years ago and had a beautiful lawn. We’ve mowed it and raked it, but we’ve not done much in the way of weeding and feeding. Apparently that is something you need to do each year? We have almost no grass left and even the weeds are disappearing, leaving horrible bald patches of mud. You know it’s bad when the pizza delivery guy is giving you unsolicited landscaping advice.

I grabbed the rake and cleaned up the side and front yard yesterday. It’s still ugly, but at least it looks a little less raggedy. Our pine tree threw down hundreds of tiny, baby pine cones and there were a lot of sticks and other debris hanging out everywhere. When did I become the type of person that is bothered by clutter?

I was still feeling pretty hopeless and stressed about the situation, but then I opened our mailbox. The clouds parted, and sun shone directly down on the mail! There was an ad for a landscaping company doing spring clean-up specials! They do it all! Rake, mulch, core, seed, blah blah blah bunch of yard-ey landscape-ey words blah blah. I talked to Mike and we’re going to get an estimate. It’s going to cost a small fortune to buy all the supplies to refurbish the yard ourselves. Might as well spend an even bigger fortune to have it done right and alleviate our stress. We’ll know in future years we need to weed and feed at the beginning of the season to maintain.

I really hope we are able to do this. It would make me so, so, so happy. You don’t even know.

I HATE yardwork. Mike is not keen on it either, and he works constantly so doesn’t have time to do it anyway. I’ll be calling for an estimate on Monday, so hopefully I’m on my way to stress free grass restoration by the time the snow stops!

I’ve also been obsessing over making up a schedule for my mom while she babysits. I had it all pictured in my head and this horrible pit in my stomach, telling me that I would forget some super important key element. Instead of letting the pit nag at me, I decided to just make the damned thing and get it over with. Get rid of the stress!

So that’s just what I did. I am not completely finished, but I have all the emergency numbers written down, a master schedule for the week and the specific schedule for a couple of the days. I just need to finish the schedules for Wed-Fri and create a menu with simple dinner recipes and it will be done. This is no longer stressing me out because I have a pretty format and nice fonts. Mike is laughing at me for making it in Publisher, but why wouldn’t I make it in Publisher? I like having complete control. I have no idea how to work Word. Funny how just getting started on it totally alleviated that stress. Getting started really is half the battled for a seasoned procrastinator like myself.

Now, I just have one question for you all: What’s the appeal of drinking wine and getting sloshed? My friend introduced me to Barefoot Sweet Red, which is pretty good. It’s a sweet red wine that’s easy for me to drink. I like to drink a glass before bed because it knocks me out cold. I really like it for the sleep proprieties, but I don’t see how it qualifies as fun. I’d be the girl passed out on the couch.

Speaking of which, I don’t have anything new or profound to say about the Steubenville rapists. I didn’t know much about the case until the web exploded with outrage. I did a tiny bit of research and was so disgusted that I couldn’t stomach any more. Those boys are animals. Every news network that made them out to be victims deserved to have their credentials taken away. I am proud of all my friends. Every single person I’ve seen mention it, male or female, has been completely outraged and disgusted. I wish the whole world was as enlightened as my friends.

The case has been weighing heavily on my heart. I have a son and a daughter. It is a huge responsibility to teach them both to respect other people’s boundaries, but to also teach them to protect themselves and the people around them. Like most parents I know, we’ve started doing this from a very young age. We never force our kids to kiss or hug people. As soon as they say “no” in a game of tickle wars, we stop immediately. We talk about respecting ourselves and others. I just hope it is all enough.

It was a beautiful day yesterday, so I took Elsa for a stroll around the neighborhood. All the kids were out playing and having fun. One girl started screaming “don’t touch me! I told you not to touch me!” Of course I was thinking of Steubenville. I had a very serious chat with the two little boys who were chasing two little girls and poking at them. I told them they must never, never, never touch someone who tells them they don’t want to be touched. All four kids, boys and girls, looked at me with big eyes and probably thought I was crazy. They need to be hearing this message from everyone–teachers, parents, random neighbors walking down the street. We have a pretty close-knit neighborhood, so it’s not like I was a perfect stranger to any of these children.

Anyway, time to go take a shower. My friend just called me to ask if I can go watch her kids for a little while later today. Her husband was just taken to the hospital via ambulance after passing out from dehydration! He’s had the stomach flu since Thursday. Oh my!

We’ve had a great weekend for a change! No illness! Mike was convinced the stomach flu would hit him on Friday, based on the timing of illness for the rest of us but he never got it. Instead we got to hang out with some family friends. The whole family came over for dinner (pizza–no way was I cooking), then all the boys (Erik, Mike, the dad and Irish Lad) headed over to Erik’s school for a puzzle competition. We had to pre-register and pay $20, so I’m glad we didn’t have to cancel.

Everyone has been saying a team headed by some guy name Ed was the clear winner and everyone else was showing up just to have some fun. I have a wee bit of a competitive spirit, but I am not a great puzzler. Still! I couldn’t let this Ed fellow stand un-challenged! I resorted to putting the pressure on the menfolk. They were not going to be allowed back home if they didn’t win. They were not impressed and didn’t consider themselves the likely winners since two of their teammates were first graders.

I did a huge victory dance when I got an e-mail from the PTA president telling me they had won! I knew it was smart to send in the rocket scientist and the world renowned planet formation guy! Science geeks rock at puzzles. They are the champions, my friends! Notice how I somehow take credit for something I wasn’t even involved in?

So the boys get home, I rush down to great them and congratulate them on their victory, and they start laughing at me. There were only five teams in the whole competition and no one named Ed! They were the only team that even finished the 300 piece puzzle. The little boys were beyond excited, so their victory was not completely hollow.

Our little friend, Irish Lad, stayed for a sleep over and it went really well. I tucked them in at 10 pm and we heard a few giggles but that was it. They got up in the morning and took care of themselves. I came down the stairs at 9 am to see if they were all starving. Elsa was eating a piece of left over pizza and Erik had made a batch of crepe batter. He didn’t want to turn on the stove, so he was waiting for someone to come down and cook them.

If you would have asked me two years ago if I would ever get to sleep in or if my kid would ever prepare himself crepes on a Saturday morning while I slept in, I would have laughed you out of the room. He has had such a huge shift in maturity lately. He doesn’t want me to tell him any part of the morning routine anymore–he does the whole bit before I can even get my mom voice going. It is so pleasant to have an independent kid around. He wants to please us and is so proud when we notice all the little changes he is making. I look back and pictures of him when he was little and miss my squishy baby, but he is such a nice boy now. Who knew that crazy, screaming, running kid could turn out so well? All that hard work I put into learnin’ him a thing or two is paying off.

We met up with Irish Lad’s family for an Indian lunch, then made a trade-off. Erik went off to their house for the afternoon and played outside all day. I am really sad that he hates being outside at our place. The neighborhood boys are not his type–way, way too rough–so he refuses to go out even though he is a natural athlete who used to love the outdoors. We live in a townhouse community so there’s not much option of minding your own business and staying away from the other kids. Irish Lad lives out in the country on a huge piece of land with no neighbors, so they can run free and enjoy themselves without the specter of bullies.

Eventually Elsa and I went back out to the Irish house and had dinner and purple cake (chosen by Elsa), and came home again, leaving Erik out there for a second sleep over. The boys are in hog heaven.

I also got my new chair today! It is way bigger than I realized and the color is too yellow for my beachy room, but it is very comfy and fits a lap full of kids a lot better than my other rocker. I need to do some serious re-arranging of the living room to make it blend in a little better. I saw a great idea for storage/seating HERE and need to talk with Mike about how we could implement something like that in this room and get rid of some of the other storage. I need more seating. I host a lot of playdates and it can get really crazy in my little townhouse.

++

My mom now has plans to move to my town. She needs to do a little more research, but it seems like she might be able to move into one of the senior active living apartment places. There are a few around here that are actually within her budget, so we’ll see what happens. I like this idea a whole lot better than the idea of her living within a few hours of us. If she lives in town we can visit with her, then send her home. I fear that if she lives in a nearby town she’ll want to come and spend days at a time with us to make the drive worth it. I do like her and enjoy being around her, but being able to send her home after a few hours is very appealing.

Not that I think this is all going to pan out.

Update on my sister: her boyfriend found another girlfriend, so she and her husband are back together. The whole family just moved into a HUD house within walking distance of a pretty good school (relatively speaking). My sister is taking pride in it and is acting like a mom instead of a drug addict. She’s been good for a whole week, so my mom thinks she’s cured. We all know how this will go.

Her diabetes doctor told her that he can’t treat her if she doesn’t get her mental health in check and that she’s going to die sooner rather than later. Like, VERY sooner. Yet she doesn’t have time to go get the mental health evaluation that will get the ball rolling.

I am convinced she’s going to pull something while Mike and I are on our vacation. I hope if she kills herself she doesn’t take anyone with her, especially one or all of the kids. Isn’t that an awful thing to even have to think about? We all know she’s on the verge, but because she is an adult there is not a damned thing anyone will do to help her until she does something really bad. I begged and cried and pleaded with CPS, but got no where. The case is still open, but the caseworker says her hands are tied unless an authority figure catches her in the act of doing something illegal.

I still don’t understand how my mom can leave those kids, especially the boys. She raised them both (my sister had a lot more interest in my niece because she could dress her up like a doll).

And yes, I totally believe my sister would pull something just to ruin my vacation. That sounds so dramatic and I would roll my eyes if someone else declared that their sister would kill herself to ruin a vacation, but you don’t know my sister. She hates me and thinks I have everything (which. . . well. . . I guess I do, but only because I’ve worked my ass off, not because anyone handed it to me). She doesn’t think things through and is very impulsive. She’s straight up untreated mentally ill–who knows what she’ll take a notion to do.

I’ve had a few different friends offer to take the kids if we are on our trip and my mom has to leave so I think it will all be ok on our end. My kids will be well cared for no matter what crazy thing she decides to do. I’ve built a really wonderful community of support for myself and our family. I love this place because I feel like I belong. I went to Five Below today and a troop of girl scouts was selling cookies. I knew one of the girls, so bought some cookies. When I came back out they had switched shifts and I knew a different girl and the mom supervising. Though this town had a large population, it has a small town feel in some ways. No main street or anything like that, but I feel like I know someone just about anywhere I go. Granted, I do get out a lot.

Ok, time for bed. I’ll have to tell you the exciting news about Elsa’s goodie bags later. You know how much I love goodie bags [/sarcasm].

What a day yesterday! As expected, I was hit with the stomach bug. It was bad. So bad that I had to call Mike and have him come home to care for Elsa. It’s impossible to care for an almost-three-year old who wants to wiggle around on your lap, when the slightest wiggle sends you running for the bathroom.

Thankfully he was able to come home. I know he had to do a lot of shuffling of meetings and such, so it was not easy to drop everything and come work from home for the day. I don’t know how we would have made it if he didn’t manage, though.

As soon as he arrived, I fled to the bedroom and slept about 12 hours straight, with a few breaks to spend quality time with the toilet. Ugh. Not a good day by any means.

But then! I woke up at around 10 pm and checked my computer for the first time all day. I got the shock of my life! Veronica Mars!!!! Movie!!! It’s happening! Kickstarter! I’m so excited I can’t make a coherent sentence! They raised the minimum required for the movie in a few hours, but are still taking backers. I had to kick in some money. It wouldn’t be right to be this excited and not donate.

Erik came home with a folder STUFFED with graded papers yesterday. I had pretty much convinced myself that they don’t do any actual paper and pencil work in first grade. I couldn’t figure it out, but I’ve seen very, very little in terms of graded papers.

Apparently my dear son has just “forgot” to bring home all his papers. I think his teacher must have cleared out his desk on the day he was absent and discovered several months worth of work. I don’t know, but it was nice to see that they actually do writing and reading and ‘rithmatic!

Of course, not all the work was high quality. I am thinking of calling a child psychologist after reading his writings about a koala bear. They had to follow instructions to draw a koala bear with a baby on it’s back climbing a tree. Then they had to do a little writing. The prompt was “Write about what the koala will do in the tree.”

His response:

Uoos a gun to kill me. Then the world. Then the galixy. Then every galixy. Then I dont no.

I talked to him about it and he looked embarrassed, but also giggled a lot. He said he was just trying to be funny. We had a talk about guns never being funny, but I don’t know if the message really found his brain.

So, innocent comment or sign of a budding sociopath? I’ll have to go with innocent comment, even though it was upsetting for me to read. He is a really sensitive, caring little boy. He always tries to make people happy and seems to have a knack for social situations. He almost always finds the kids who looks lost and alone and tries to make them comfortable.

Elsa, my other little darling, was having trouble working my computer and told me “My life is so hard.” I started laughing hysterically because she was just so serious and her life is anything but hard. With that reaction, of course she has spent the rest of the day going around saying “my life is so hard.”

Can you believe I’ve been writing this little tid-bit all day? I haven’t had the energy to mess around with the computer. We bought a subscription to abcmouse.com and the kids have basically taken over my computer, even though Erik has his own desktop now. Argh! I am so woozy from lack of food that I can’t form a coherent thought anyway, so it is best if I wrap this up.

I finally got my phone number changed. I was getting too many pictures of manly rods in my inbox. Gross gross gross. The penis is not an attractive organ anyway; unsolicited pictures of self “portraits” are really not my thing. *shudder*

I kept putting it off because I didn’t have time to go to the Verizon store. Finally made time, only to be told I would have to call the customer service number. I called them and the guy was extremely helpful (and completely flabbergasted by my story), but told me I could have done it all online. Well then. Welcome to the modern era. I used to think I was all fancy-pants techno girl with my fancy-pants angelfire website with GLOWING buttons. GLOWING, people!

My younger friends don’t know a horizontal ruler [hr] from a strike-out [s] but they can run their lives from their phones. I am starting to feel like an old woman several steps behind the time. I don’t understand why I want everyone to be able to contact me at their convenience. I don’t know why I need to talk to people on the phone while I’m trying to drive. Now, 15 years ago I certainly would have been all over the texting thing. That was back in the day when I was constantly chatting online on a website and via ICQ (and where I met Mike!). I think I’m all texted out.

I’ve never had a call to pick Erik up, so it didn’t occur to me to update the school with my new contact information. I really should have thought about it since Elsa spent all night Friday in our bed, puking her little guts out.

I took Elsa to get her pictures done (had a big gift card about to expire) and that’s when Erik decided to puke all over his classroom, the hallway and the nurse’s office. Lucky Mike got to leave work and go pick him up. They now have my phone number. Ha. If I can just keep track of my phone and realize the phone is ringing when it starts playing music, I might be able to be available to pick up my sick kid.

Here’s a picture from our photo session:

This one isn’t my favorite, but I had to pick it because Elsa had such a strong reaction to it. The egg is just photo magic, but Elsa saw it on the screen and had a combined freakout/happy reaction. At first she was laughing that she was trapped in an egg, but then she started freaking and wanted to hatch. I tried telling her she wasn’t really in an egg, but she started crying and just wanted to get out. Two year old logic is fun. She didn’t understand that she was not in an egg or even in the basket. She was sitting on my lap on a stool.

Other than that little blip, it was an awesome photo shoot. It is the first time in my child-rearing history that there wasn’t full on screaming, crying or running in circles like a fool. She listened to the photographer and followed directions as best she could. It truly was a dream. If you’ve been reading long, you know my write-ups of portrait sessions with Erik always read like a war report. Amazing how different life can be with a child who is somewhat biddable and doesn’t enjoy being contrary just to be contrary.

Elsa had her parent’s day out program today, so that left me and Erik to spend the day alone. Very nice! We haven’t had a day to ourselves in a long time. He was feeling much, much better so we went to the store and loaded up on all kinds of soda for his science fair project. They were supposed to think of a question and have a theory, then prove or disprove it. His question was pretty good: what happens when you put baking soda in soda? We both thought it would bubble up like vinegar and baking soda. We were both totally wrong. There was a little fizz with the Pepsi, but overall it was a bust. It was still worthwhile, though. He learned that you can’t just go off on a wild tangent. You have to measure, record, and think about things–all very valuable lessons.

I video recorded each different mixture so we can make a little movie to have playing on the laptop during the science fair. You can only take in self-contained liquids so there won’t be anything too fun going on at our table. Now I just have to figure out how to splice together some videos with a little sign in between each one. Anyone have a super simple, free video editing program they like? Windows only, please.

I guess I better go do something useful. I don’t know what that would be, but sitting here in this horrible chair is not helping my back. I got a message that my new chair is finally ready, so if I’m not puking I can go get it tomorrow! I will not be sorry to see this poor, old recliner hit the trash. The side arm is now laying lower than the seat. I guess it had a good run for a cheapo chair. We got it right after Erik was born. Time sure flies.

I had a few people ask me about my new cleaning system, which means I probably gave the entirely wrong impression. It’s not that I have a clean home. It’s that my common areas are no longer pig styes. My house isn’t dirty, but I am a clutter bug. My bedroom and Elsa’s bedroom are complete embarrassments. I am not freaked out about this because we had a home organizer talk to our MOMS Club last year and she said it is impossible to organize if you don’t have a junk room. Somehow those two bedrooms have become our junk rooms, which works because we only use our bedrooms for sleeping. I would love to have a bigger house just so we could have a dedicated junk room.

Anyhow, on to the system! It is not a system, so much as it’s a total mind shift.

My mom went back to work when I was in fourth grade. My mom had a very critical mother who abhorred anything she viewed as lazy. These two factors combined to make housekeeping a living hell in my childhood home. My mom was insane about the housekeeping and the children were never allowed to help because we just got in the way. That was a-ok with me. I had friends who had chores and felt so sorry for them!

But. . . .

That meant I grew up, became an adult, and had no idea how to cook or clean. Not exactly a parenting win in the long run.

My mom cleaned by getting up super early on Saturday and spending the whole day Cleaning! All! The! Things! Saturday was a day of yelling and screaming and maybe a movie if she managed to steal enough money from my drunken dad’s wallet the night before. She still doesn’t understand how I have money to do anything since Mike doesn’t get falling down drunk every weekend, giving me an opportunity to steal the next week’s spending money.

So I’ve always had this aversion to getting up early on a Saturday and doing all my chores. I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination and I like to laze around on Saturdays. Why do I want to mar the fun day with the most un-fun stuff? Makes no sense.

A few months ago I saw a little cleaning schedule on Pintrest. It completely blew my mind! The details of the actually crafty part are sketchy, but the important point was that the lady broke all the cleaning tasks down and spread them out over the week. As she did a chore she pulled it off her magnetic to-do list.

Doing tasks all through the week? On my own schedule???? I can do that?

Yes, I’m 38 years old and had no idea I could spread the tasks out instead of doing them in one big, exhausting spurt of hateful resentment. Doh!

Around that same time I read a blog by a lady who was using some kind of heart rate monitor/calorie counter and she noticed that she burned more calories cleaning at home than doing cardio at the gym. There’s a sweet spot in regards to your heart rate and fat burning, which is well below the heart rate for cardio. Cleaning finds this sweet spot because you are moving around, but not running.

These days I have a sort of flex schedule set up: Mondays and Thursdays are laundry. Tuesdays are bathrooms. Wednesdays are the kitchen. Fridays are whatever needs to be done. Picking up clutter and vacuuming the living room are daily. Mike does a nightly cleaning of the kitchen and he takes care of the basement.

On days I miss a gym workout, I set the timer for an hour and do a strenuous household project (baseboards, windows, painting, something. . . ). I turn up my radio or put in my iPod to make it go faster. My next step is to get a heart rate monitor thingee. Any suggestions? My friend likes her FitBit so maybe that’s what I will get.

I do all this work at 2 pm. I am not meant to be a morning person. I resent being pulled out of my morning stupor and being expected to get straight to work.

Not that this system is perfect. I painted on Tuesday instead of doing the bathrooms, then on Friday I made a complete meal for a family who lost their house in a fire. Somehow making a meal for someone else is much more exhausting than making a meal for ourselves, so I never got to the bathrooms this week. And, like I said, if you looked in my bedroom you would see that this whole thing is a complete sham that barely keeps us from living in a hovel.

I honestly don’t know how families without a stay-at-home parent or nanny or housekeeper do it. I read a blog yesterday that stated every family needs a carer, and I agree 100%. Even when both kids are in school, how will I have time to work without completely shattering the semi-idyllic life we lead? I don’t want to pick my kids up from aftercare, rush home, eat a hurried dinner (probably take-out or frozen) while trying to get homework done. Send the kids to bed. Start all over again. Clean! All! The! Things! on Saturday. And oh yeah, grocery shopping, doctor’s appointments, special school projects, keeping up with friendships. . .

That lifestyle doesn’t appeal to me at all if it is not 100% necessary. Then I feel like a loser for having no career ambitions, but no job I’ve ever had has given me the satisfaction that mothering gives me. It’s enough to make me want to have another baby just so I don’t have to jump back into the working world. Which is INSANE. I want to start to sleep sometime in the five-ten years. Did I mention Elsa was up all night puking? I should have cleaned all the bathrooms today to prepare for the inevitable night on the bathroom floor that I’m sure to endure in the next couple of days.

Remember the good ol’ days when the Queen of Rambles could ramble about anything at the drop of a hat? A nice, long rambly entry every day. Often an adventure. Boring for some, I’m sure, but it was my life.

I’ve completely lost the mo-jo. Things happen and my thought process is no longer “how can I turn this into a blog.” It’s more like “sleeeeeeep, how could I get more sleeeeeep. If these people quit talking, can I sleep?”

Sleep is not a hot topic.

I’ve been spending the last two nights re-doing our PTA website. They had a fairly decent one up, but the guy running it left our school and the guy who was supposed to take it over couldn’t get together with him and get the info on how to update it. I really don’t understand the problem. I made the mistake of asking why the former webmaster just couldn’t e-mail us the log-in info and suddenly I became the person making a whole new website, complete with a new domain. Why I couldn’t just take over the old one? I have no idea. But I made it and it’s fine. I enjoy that kind of challenge.

I am feeling guilty about my lack of blogging these days. Not because I feel I owe it to you, oh faithful reader. I like you, but I don’t owe you.

Nope. I owe my daughter the same type of intense scrutiny of early childhood that I gave my son, but she is not getting it. I don’t post every single funny little thing she does, even though she is hilarious and beautiful, fierce and sweet.

I think she frightened our friends the other day when she started growling and saying “bad boys, bad boys, bad girl, bad mommy, bad daddy.” Her growling, deep voice is a little disconcerting. As are the things that come out of her mouth. Bad indeed! It’s hard to control what she’s exposed to when she has such an older brother. For some reason he is not a protective mama bear.

She’s going to be three in five short weeks! What happened to my chubbiest, laughingest baby in the world? The Threes have already started. The defiance, temper tantrums, completely illogical desires. . . . some days are exhausting. She’s got a much better mother than her brother had, though. I know for a cold, hard fact that this is just a stage. I will not be dealing with this for the rest of my life, so I can deal with it in a much calmer manner. This behavior not a reflection of my complete and utter failure as a mother. If she loses control it is totally normal and we just roll with it. Getting stressed and thinking every bit of imperfection is FAIL FAIL FAIL is a thing of the past. Thankfully. It’s not easy to live with such high expectations. Poor Erik had a crazy mother.

Elsa is learning to share and take turns. She’s sweet with her friends, and speaks very clearly. She is starting to have conversations that make sense, not just toddler non-sense. And, of course, she’s really starting to know who she loves. There’s nothing better than a big, fierce hug while she screams “I LOVE YOU!!!!”

Erik is doing great as well. He’s really hit his stride as a wonderful little man. He has started getting himself ready in the mornings without being asked. The pride shines in his eyes as he shows me his socks are on and his teeth are brushed. He wants to help with the cooking and I usually am able to find a task he can do because I remember being that age and being shooed out of the kitchen. I know why my mom wanted to be alone in the kitchen. I would love to be alone with my cooking, but it is so important to teach these little people how to cook and be self-sufficient so I suck it up and try to be patient and is takes him three times longer to do a task.

Of course, the problem with raising independent children is that they are so damned independent and they are just children. Erik thinks he can do anything and doesn’t really understand why there are limits. After all, he can peel an onion, why shouldn’t he walk to Diary Queen by himself?

But this was supposed to be about Elsa! Will my children actually read all of this blathering one day? Will they be able to handle the innermost thoughts of their mom? I don’t know if that would be a good thing or not.

I guess I don’t write as much about Elsa because she’s not as frustrating as Erik was. I’m much more experienced and she’s more interested in typical “girl” things like coloring, painting, playing play-doh, making her dolls talk. A lot of times she just sits on my lap and I wiggle my finger around. My finger is the princess and I have to hide it. We can play that for at least 30 minutes. We also play a lot of doggie and Team Umi Zoomi. This game must be played in my bed. I sit in my spot and she faces me and says “I’m baby doggie, you’re mommy doggie.” Or “I’m Bot, you’re Milli.” And so it goes for hours. Not much ever happens in these games, except establishing our identities. It always surprises me that she wants to be the male robot, not the little girl. I’m convinced it’s because the girl has ponytails and she hates ponytails.

I need to get out my camera and take some pics. I was going to *gasp* work on my New Years Resolution and get January and February done in my yearly photo book, but I hardly have any pictures.

I’m going to get a new number tomorrow. Apparently people wrote down the phone number of their favorite fake whore. I just got a pic of a giant naked cock. A few minutes later I got a text saying “im sorry from da bottom of my hart i had wrong number” so at least he somehow figured it out.

This has gone on long enough, though. I get a few calls and texts a day about the business. Most of them are just annoying, but that last one? Ugh. I really don’t need that on my phone.

Completely unrelated: Erik had a sleepover last night and came home wanting to play Minecraft. He used all his saved money to buy a refurbished desktop and the game. He has no clue how to play and just keeps whining about it. I’m about to go into orbit with the whining. I have no clue how to play the game. I don’t want to have a clue. I have a shit ton of work to do. I am mean and cranky and having a visit from dear aunt flo (which always feels weird to write since I actually have an Aunt Flo. It took me years to figure out not everyone had an Aunt Flo.)

I hope I’m in a better mood tomorrow. I hate throwing bigger fits than my two year old.