but Mommy, why do you want me to take a picture of your buns?
Go to Jail, Go directly to Jail
February 26, 2007 by 13 Comments
My son really, really, really does not want me to go to jail. Or die.
Which is good, because I really don’t have any desire to go to jail. Or die.
He seems to think both are real possibilities and both could happen at any moment. I mean, he’s right about one of those…but still. I wrote about this over at DotMoms, but I need to post it again here, because I honestly don’t know how to answer him anymore. I think explaining to him only bad people go to jail helped relieve some fears. But the death thing? He flusters me daily. I just can’t bring myself to tell him anyone of us could be gone tomorrow.
My son is asking about death.
He wants to know if he will die. He wants to known when he will die. He wants to know how he will die. He wants to know what will happen after he dies. He wants to know if Mommy will die. He wants to know if Daddy will die.
When I was asked these deep questions by a not-quite 4-year-old, I paused. This was one of those moments when I needed to have my Mom act together. I was not going to get away with a, “Oh, just because…” answer.
It was during my pause that my son threw me for a loop. It seems he wasn’t so concerned about dying, but actually more concerned about being “alone” and “away from everybody.”
He wasn’t really worried about dying, he was worried about not being able to hug his mom when he needed it most.
Did anyone else’s heart just jump into their throats?
I, of course, assured my tiny worry wart that he would always have someone. I was vague. I was very non specific, and I choked back tears the entire time, knowing it wasn’t true.
I lied.
I wasn’t as concerned with the lie as I was the truth. One day he may be alone. One day I won’t be here. One day…
I think I liked it better when I thought he was obsessed with death.
I would like to thank the Academy
February 24, 2007 by 20 Comments
******updated******
IT WON IT WON IT WON IT WON IT WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
…in advance.
I know that 24 hours from now, my husband will be able to say he is a digital artist involved in the film that won the 2007 Academy Award for special effects.
I love you Oscar.
Ghetto Cold
February 23, 2007 by 13 Comments
I’m making pizza for breakfast so I can crank the stove.
My thermostat is broke and I can’t bring myself to just turn the stove on for heat. Too ghetto. So I’m making pizza.
MMMMMM pizza at 8am.
What? The furnace guys don’t get here until 9 and I’m not sitting around in the cold.
Yes, I said cold. It’s 52 degrees in my house. I know Karen will call me a pussy, but this Cali girl can’t handle it. Sure, sure…grew up in the gray tundra that is metro-Detroit…but I was never a very good cold person there either. I was the girlfriend you started the car for 45 minutes in advance, not 10. You dropped me off at the entrance and after dinner ran to get the car in the parking lot, while I waited at the bar.
So here I am, taking 5 minutes to get my pizza out of the oven, because I can’t just stand over the warm, open oven. That would be way too white trash.
So instead I’ll pretend to fix the handle. And maybe put in some cookies or something. If you hear about a dead family in LA County, carbon monoxide or something..that’s us.
A HILL-uva lot of Guilt
February 21, 2007 by 8 Comments
Senator Barak Obama was 35 miles from me this week and I got myself a ticket and tried to get there.
Didn’t happen. The rally occurred Queen-less, while I stayed home with two sick children, but I would have liked to have gone and held a sign and showed my support for the senator from Illinois.
That left me feeling guilty. The guilt has been creeping up on me slowly since the smooth talking Obama entered the race and now it’s weighing right on top of my glass-ceiling breaking head.
Have I betrayed my fellow women by supporting Obama? Should I be rallying behind Hillary??? Is this lifelong feminist throwing away the first, legitimate chance at seeing a FEMALE in the white house???
Given the gravity of what is going on the world today, this may seem like a silly and frivolous thought on my part. Just vote for the best candidate, and the hell with everything else. That’s easy to say, but hard to do when you’ve dreamed your entire life of seeing your gender as the leader of the free world.
I not so secretly hope Senator Obama loses the nomination, Senator Clinton wins, and then I can feel as though I supported my beliefs and realized a dream through Hillary.
What a terrible thought, but I am trying to be brutally honest.
Maybe I should just get on the Edwards bandwagon and pretend I’m not affected by dreams of a first African-American or female President. Maybe I should just, once again, find a nice, white, safe male to support.
Hrumph.
No. No. I think my best course of action is Clinton/Obama ’08.
A girl can dream, can’t she???
Crossposted at the Huffington Post
The Twat Isle (of Eden)
February 20, 2007 by 20 Comments
I hate going to the feminine needs aisle anywhere.
I’m not embarrassed. I’m not shy. I just hate when that ONE old man in the store ends up looking for Old Spice in that aisle on accident while you painstakingly decide between the supersuper have a happy period Kotex or the heavy/super Always max.
Sigh.
So why all the twat talk? Let’s just say I had to be taken to the doctor by my husband this morning due to…um…complications from the catheter during my surgery.
I swear I’m the only one in the world with an infection in her pee hole from having her thyroid removed. $10 to anyone who can find me someone else.
Anyway, it was doctor day because we then took both kids and they have the ear infection/sinus infection winter blahs with an added bonus of bronchitis for my little princess peanut.
Armed with cranberry pills and orange flavored amoxicillin, I’m ready to announce that Karen over at Swank has been kind enough to, once again, indulge me in a redesign which you, my faithful reader, will get to see very soon.
It’s beeeeeeeeeauuuuuuuuuuuuuutiful, if I do say so myself. The great and powerful Kaiser finally bestowed upon me his time and artistry and whipped up a lil something. Of course he made Sarah’s header eons ago. But I’m not keeping track. Really, I’m not.
The design will also include some very exciting Second Life information about my money making fun in the virtual world. Virtual world, real MONEY.
My business partner and I have been buying and selling virtual real estate and making some bank. Let’s just say our first deal TRIPLED in profit. He’s boy wonder and I’m the eye candy. Because in Second Life I totally get to be eye candy.
The really fun part is I plan on bringing you guys along for the ride. I’m counting on you. The Queen has a virtual castle in which everyone is welcome to talk, surf, ride jetskis, pet the monkeys (I’m not kidding) and meet each other in real time. For real talks. Having real fun. Ask Gidge….she’s living in my castle and having a blast.
You can advertise your blog at my pad. You can network with the likes of Arianna Huffington and Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Or you can go have cybersex with my neighbor. You can even buy land next door and set up your own place and we can all live in one, big, happy, Mommyblogging commune.
We’ve named the island the Isle of Eden, and in honor of my blogging friends I commissioned an AMAZING piece of artwork (because I can do that in second life…) that an amazing female artist painted to represent YOU. YOU my blogging friends. The artist has been reading our blogs (as part of her research) and she made this piece to be the focal point of our virtual girls night out space.
It brings tears to my eyes.
So grab some cranberry juice (just in case) and join me, won’t you? I’ll show you the piece and then we’ll go to an all male review.
Sigh
February 16, 2007 by 14 Comments
It’s been a long few days around here. The kids are sick, I’m still iffy…and Nana’s novelty on the children has worn off.
Reinforcements arrive in the form of my mother-in-law today, and I think it will be a welcome change. As the 4-year old has decided he will no longer listen to anyone or do anything anyone wants.
It’s making me a bit…well, low. I keep immersing myself in Second Life business and shutting out the world.
Not healthy, I know. But the incision hurts, the kids are sick and acting like beasts, and my mother is OVER helping everyone. She’s exhausted. Add to that a husband with a horrendous commute, and we’re just a barrel of laughs over here.
Did I mention I’m out of Vicodin?
Sigh.
Let’s look at cute pictures of the kids, because I need to remember they are not small monsters out to destroy my soul.
When CoSleeping Ends (Part II)
February 13, 2007 by 18 Comments
Put on PJ’s. Brush teeth. Read stories. Get tucked in. Go to sleep.
It’s that FUCKING SIMPLE.
My kids don’t do that. They have NEVER done that. Well, expect for the past three nights.
Cue the choir of angles.
Having been breastfed to bed, co-sleeping babies, our bedtimes habits are a bit…umm, lax. Throw in the usual snots and sniffles and pukes and we had a routine of children either having been breastfed, laid with, or held to sleep.
We slowly made the transition from our bed to their beds with protests. Throw in some parental laziness and bam…four people in our king.
Now that I’m on the mend and the kids had a few night of Mommy gone at the hospital, we’ve decided to re-impliment the “kids go to bed in their own beds” rule. I automatically assumed this would be a total failure. Which is fine. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy.
Turns out we’re on night #3, as I type this…with kids asleep in their own beds. I nearly gave in to the Count because he has a bad cough and runny nose. But I held firm. KNOWING this could go on and on and on until they go off to college.
People TELL me co-sleeping kids eventually leave your bed, but really you don’t believe it. You just assume they will come and go and come and come and come and come and come. And just stay. Forever. Or until they decide to marry or something.
I am still emotional over weaning Princess Peanut. So this whole not sleeping with a kid-leg in my ribs is a little hard for me. I keep telling myself it’s fine. I keep telling myself not to get all crazy/protective/hover mommy.
But none of that really goes away until mindblowing sex, IN MY OWN BED, with the Kaiser.
Emotional crisis over. Cue the choir of angles again.
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