Sick and Tired

I went to New York City this past weekend for a friend's wedding, sans children and husband. I had a great time with my college friends, but am sick now, and got home to a sick child. Harrison has some sort of chest cold - wheezy and croupy coughing during the night, better during the day. Hopefully we will both be better soon!

Oh, and I'm tired because I've averaged 6.25 hours of sleep a night since Thursday's red eye flight to NY, with adolescent boy next to me putting his bare feet on my leg keeping me from getting a good night's sleep - er, make that a good 3 1/2 hours sleep - on the flight out. Oh well. Guess I should go down early tonight, huh? Nothing like 6 hours of sleep to really help a cold.

If any of you college friends remembered how to find this blog, please comment! (I gave them all the info on it, but I doubt anyone was sober enough to remember!)

Why Are You Trying to Pin Me Down?

Oh, wait, never mind.

I got a new digital camera to replace the one I had that was not working well. I filled in the product registration for some reason, even though that sort of thing is not generally helpful to me, and then filled out a survey afterwards. The last question:

What is your gender?
Male _
Female _
No Answer _

~~~~~~~~~~~

Britney!!

I forgot that Britney was going to be on the MTV Video Music Awards last night until it was too late to watch, so I hunted it down online. You can find it here now.

So, I was a bit shocked. I'd read that it was bad, but it was really like watching a train wreck. I feel bad for everyone involved, especially Britney. But then I think, "Wait, she's got millions of dollars. Why am I feeling sorry for her?"

My fave line about the "performance": "The over all effect was that of an out-of-shape hooker with an inner ear infection." (From here)

For the Kids

In honor of the first week of school last week, I have a lesson today for the kids out there. What, no kids read this blog? Hmm. Well, any immature adults? OK, you'll do just as well.

Today's lesson: Things that don't mix.

First we have oil and water. This is called immiscibility. Can you say immiscibility? No, I can't either. If you're actually interested in reading about immiscibility, you'll have to go here. I don't do chemistry.

What else doesn't mix?

Let's see, there's peanut butter and tuna fish. Haven't tried those together on a sandwich, and don't plan to.

There's paint and hair. Paint doesn't come out of hair easily.

There's gum and hair. Gum comes out of hair with peanut butter, but then you need to get the peanut butter out of your hair.

There's also Silly Putty and hair. Silly putty is quite a cool little invention created by a General Electric engineer during World War II, when the US needed to come up with a synthetic rubber compound. The boric acid/silicone oil combination didn't work for its intended purpose, but made a nifty toy! And it has some other uses, which is why Hubby keeps an egg of it on his desk. I can't remember what he uses it for, but it's there, and it's tempting to little boys like Hutton. He's often getting into his Daddy's Silly Putty, and I'm always telling him to please put it back and not play with things on Daddy's desk.

So, this morning as I was showering, I heard Hutton getting upset in the other room, crying and calling for me. Showers are short around here. I got out and called Hutton into the bathroom, where he was holding his head and saying something was stuck.

Now, kids, can you guess what Hutton had stuck in his hair? Did you say Silly Putty? Great job! You're right!

I looked at the mess in front of me and started tugging at putty, while holding Hutton's hair at the roots so as not to pull it all out. This didn't work very well, so I got the biggest chunk of putty out (along with a lot of hair) and told Hutton to hold tight while I went to find Silly Putty removal options on the computer.

I googled "Silly Putty and Hair" and clicked on the first likely website. I scrolled to the bottom of the comments and found that hand sanitizer and Pam cooking spray were two recommended options. I knew we didn't have any Pam in the house, and I didn't have any hand sanitizer handy, but I did have some hand sanitizing moisturizer on my desk, so I grabbed that and squirted a glop into Hutton's hair. Didn't do too much. I read further: alcohol was another option. I took Hutton back to the bathroom, doused the back of his head in rubbing alcohol, and grabbed Hubby's comb. It did the trick, plus now Hubby's comb is all sanitized! Great!

Now, look at the picture below and tell me what you think it is:

If you said, "Something your cat left on your doorstop!" then, I'm sorry, but you're wrong. (Though it does look like something a cat might have hacked up.) The correct answer is, of course, "Silly Putty and hair!" Silly Putty and hair do not mix, as I hope you've learned from this little lesson. I hope that Hutton has learned this lesson, too, though he had to learn it the hard way.


As I combed his hair, I told him over and over, "This wasn't a very good idea. Please don't ever put Silly Putty or anything else sticky in your hair!" We'll see how his listening comprehension is.

We're going to be working on some different bald spot covering hairstyles for a while. Unfortunately, the two cowlicks on the back of Hutton's head don't cooperate with many hairstyles.

Time for My Weekly Post!

Yeah, it seems I've fallen to weekly posting. Sigh.

Hubby is still working on our deck. The boys and I went to the library today. I had a new book to pick up, and the boys always love getting more library books. We followed that up with a trip to the park.

Hoo, boy, do we know how to have an exciting Labor Day weekend, or what?!

I'll let you know what I think about the book when I finish. I've only read about forty pages, but those have made me feel like we're on the right track with Hutton -- he's getting MB-12 shots for his methylation, which is important for detox. I have definitely noticed a big improvement in his verbal skills over the past 6 weeks since we've started the shots. Now I need to start adding in other things since we know that the shots are working for us. Hmm. That means we've got some lab work we need to do, as well, which is always fun. Lab work = collecting blood, urine and stool. Now who doesn't think that sounds fun?!

Let's see. The room I'm in looks like toy bomb exploded. The litter box needs to be cleaned. (I need to write a post on our new kitties, don't I?) I need to make dinner. None of those can be done by keyboard...yet! When I've perfected my keyboard-run robot I'll let you all know.

Speaking of robots, last night when I was making dinner, the boys (meaning Hubby, Hutton and Harrison) watched the last half hour of "I Robot" on TV. I caught a few minutes, and found the dialogue cheesy, with all those computer-generated special effects being the only thing going for the movie. Hubby commented, "Yeah, it's really necessary to have a computer mainframe with an 8 story drop-off" during the scenes when they try to dismantle the evil robot mainframe. Harrison commented, "That was a good movie!" after it was finished, so hey, at least he enjoyed it! Hutton thought the robots looked cool, and laughed at them climbing buildings. So, two out four ain't bad.

And to Think, I Actually Paid Money for This Crap

(That was typed "carp" first. But I fixed the typo because I didn't want to mislead anyone into thinking I was blogging about goldfish, and have them be terribly disappointed!)

Check out this link. Click on the picture of the cute little baby to read the article, first.

Essentially, she took the blog entry right out of my brain! I was reading Parents Magazine in the bathtub last weekend, and I got to the page mentioned above, and steam literally started coming out of my ears. Well, OK, maybe the steam was coming off the hot water, but still....

My thoughts (the ones I had in the tub, but didn't get around to blogging about last weekend. And then I had the magazine in my car and spilled some caramel sauce on it. It's a long story involving lattes. You really don't want to know.): First the "Autism Update" was some stupid "study" that supposedly disproves any connection between vaccines (or, the mercury in them) and Autism, because the mothers of children with Autism were no more likely to have had the RhoGAM shot than other mothers (of non-autistic children, I assume). And that proves what exactly? Some mothers get a RhoGAM shot because it supposedly protects their unborn babies with an incompatible blood type from the mother. Before 2001, these shots had thimerosal (a mercury-based preservative). After 2001, they apparently took out this super-important ingredient for some reason. (No, not because it's bad for you. Really, it's perfectly fine to have lots of mercury in your body. Ask those dentists who still use mercury fillings in your teeth. Or that Mad Hatter character from Alice in Wonderland.)

So this study says there's no connection with women receiving the RhoGAM shot having a greater incidence of children with Autism. Great. Good for them. But you know what? I had a shot containing mercury when I was pregnant with Hutton. A flu shot. In fact, I had two of them. Because the first does supposedly doesn't cover you. And I fell for the hype. "Oh no! The flu! You'll die! Run for you life! Get a shot! You're a pregnant but otherwise healthy woman, but without this shot you're doomed!" And just in case that wasn't enough, I had my eight mercury fillings leaking mercury vapor with every hot or cold drink I had. Coffee and milkshakes? Yes, please! My baby would like some more mercury! And then, in case Hutton didn't get enough mercury in my uterus, he was injected with his first mercury-containing shot just hours after birth, when he came out blue from having the cord wrapped around his neck. Hmm. We'll just give him some oxygen in the NICU to get him good and pink before we further tax his little immune system with an unnecessary shot. Yes, I'm calling the Hep B shot unnecessary. Hutton did not, in fact, leave the hospital to go shoot up drugs and have unprotected sex soon afterwards. Now, it's possible a Hep B infected druggie or crack whore could have run up to us while we were leaving the hospital and injected him with a dirty needle, but not really probable.

So, the fact that I didn't receive the RhoGAM shot and still have a child with Autism means nothing to me. This study doesn't make the vaccine-Autism theory immediately disappear, as far as I'm concerned.

And, please, don't look at the cute little baby above the story and assume he or she has Autism. That would be just horrible. That's why Parents added that neat little disclaimer: The child pictured is a model and is unrelated to the issue described in the text. God forbid a child have Autism. It affects 1 in 150 now, but rest assured that the model doesn't have it and your child couldn't possibly get if from your RhoGAM shot. Back to your normal lives.

Yes, I'm tired of these parenting magazines. I think it's time to cancel my subscription.

Blah-de-blah, Blah-de-blah

Too much going on in my poor little brain to actually blog lately. Easier to sit on my butt reading other people's words, sipping cold coffee I'm too lazy to go reheat.

Let's see. School starts September 4th. Hutton's TK class -- the one he took last year, with the evil teacher -- is doing a job-share this year. A new teacher (!!) will be there Monday and Wednesday, regular old megabitch on Tuesday Thursday. I'm going to try it out for a month to see if it works. If not, I'll start annoying the special education director again. It's the lazy mother approach. I'm a lazy mother, so it works for me.

Harrison is still not potty trained. He can pee on the potty, he just chooses not to most of the time. Sigh. We'll see if I can still get him into his preschool class. I keep telling him if he wants to go to school, he has to use the potty like a big boy. He always says, "I'm a big boy!" but when you're peeing in a diaper that doesn't mean much.

My desk is a big mess. I have to find a new speech therapist and a new home therapist. Our current home therapist is pregnant, so I have until November, and it would be nice to have some overlap time for the new therapist to work with the current one.

Sigh. Ever have one of those days weeks years when you don't feel like doing anything?

Hubby has been working on the deck all weekend. I didn't have a party for Hutton on his sixth birthday. We went to the State Fair on his birthday instead, with my best friend and her kids. It was fun. Hot, but not unbearable. We saw lots of cute farm animals, and rode on some kiddie rides. Well, the boys did. I rode on the kiddie roller coaster with them, and bought the picture.

I'm the one in front, partially blocked by the red afro of the girl in front of me. You can't see my friend's daughter in the picture. She's sitting next to me, and is probably hiding behind the red afro. I'm not sure if it's technically an afro, since I don't know what race the girl was, and I don't like to be racist when it comes to hair, so why don't we call it fluffy hair? The adorable boys behind me are Hutton (taller one) and Harrison (shorter one). I love the faces of the other kids on the ride, as well, especially the back row. You'd think we were on the Tower of Terror. I also have the picture from that ride, which Hubby and I went on when we went to Disney World when we were dating, eleven years ago.

I'll try to be a better blogger. We'll see!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, in follow up to this post, I had a wonderful birthday dinner. Hubby and I went to a really, really great restaurant, and ended up taking much longer than I'd thought, so we kinda screwed over the babysitter. Well, we did pay her a lot of money for being late, and she told my friend she liked my kids and didn't mind, and she'd like to sit for us again. Yeehaw! I didn't know where we were going until Hubby came home, and I neglected to read the website for the restaurant which said, "Please allow 4 to 5 hours for dinner." Yes, that's right. This restaurant serves 9(!!) courses, and into our fifth hour, we cut out early, missing part of the eight and ninth courses. We got a to go-box with the little truffles they were serving, but missed out on the 1910 Madeira wine. Oh well. Next time Hubby decides to spend that much on dinner (yeah, right!) I'll find a babysitter who can stay all night.

It's My Party and I'll Bitch if I Want To

Well, there's not a party. Not even a dinner. And I'm pissed. No, I don't need a birthday party. In fact, I don't really like birthday parties. They're OK every once in a long time, but really, after a certain age (post college for me) I think they're kinda silly, unless you're getting the whole family together to celebrate Uncle Hughey's 85th or something like that.

But, Hubby and I did make plans to go out tonight to celebrate my birthday. The night after the real day, but Hubby had to work late yesterday, so whatever. Friday night sounded great. A night out for the first time in months. We went out to dinner on our 10th anniversary in June, but other than that, haven't gone out together since December probably, when we visited family and left the kids with grandparents. So, I searched around and found a babysitter who seemed nice and professional, had good references, etc. I was so looking forward to dinner, and dare I dream, possibly a movie, with Hubby! Whoa. Craziness. I saw Ratatouille with the boys last week, and that was my big summer movie. Make that my first movie of 2007.

So, yesterday was nice. I met my friend and her kids at a farm that has kiddie rides, and the boys had a great time, as did I. I was tired when I got home, and didn't really want to deal with getting dinner ready by myself since Hubby was working late, but hey, I had Friday night to look forward to. I could do it!

I checked my email around 6, then went to make dinner, get the boys ready for bed, etc. I checked my email again before bed at 11:30 or so. And saw this:

Dear Laura,

Good evening. I feel awful about this but I am not going to be able to come over tomorrow evening. I know you will most likely not want to hire me in the future as this is very unprofessional. I have had something happen that I must attend to tomorrow evening and that is all I can say. I am so sorry for all of the inconvenience I am sure this will cause to your plans.

Regretfully yours,

Super Megabitch

Arggh! I told Hubby that I'd try to find another babysitter today, but so far no one has called me back. This just sooo pisses me off. I know it's just a stupid dinner and (possibly) movie, but when you don't get to go out with your husband more than a couple times a year, its something you really look forward to.

And, once I start wallowing in self-pity, I think that I have no idea if Hutton will be able to live on his own as an adult, let alone be left at home without a babysitter when he's a teenager, so I can't look forward to that: "Only seven more years and you can go out to dinner again!" Hmm. If I wait ten years maybe Harrison can be the babysitter for himself and his brother. Well, that will be a great 44th birthday, then! Can't wait!

It's My Birthday. Go Ahead, Worship Me!

Yes, it's my birthday again! I share it with my sister-in-law and Madonna, and it's also the anniversary of Elvis' death. So, it's a day of joy and sadness. Sadness if you hate Madonna or love Elvis. Joy if you love Madonna or hate Elvis. See?

This morning as I was checking my email, I scanned for things that looked personal and birthday-ish. Saw a note from my sister, and then I saw something about an e-card.

Now, the past month or so, I've had tons of spam masquerading as e-cards from friends, loved ones, and colleagues. Of course, they're always listed that way -- "A friend has sent you an e-card!" or "A relative has sent you a new card! Click here to read it!" or, "A co-worker has sent you a card!" Hmm. I don't have a job. Or friends. I know they're scams! I always delete these instantly, though if you scroll over the address they're from, they are usually from some spammer's address, not a legitimate site where a card might come from.

So, this morning, I found this one particularly amusing:

Your Worshipper has sent you Birthday postcard from superlaugh.com.

Click on your card's direct www address below: [insert fake link here]

My what? Hold on a second. The person who wrote this spam thing actually thinks people who read this will believe someone worships them? Well, I'm sure someone somewhere is narcissistic enough to be well on their way to having their hard drive infected with spyware at this very moment! Just not me.

OK, I do think that I'm being worshipped somewhere. Come out, worshippers! Show yourselves! We will restore the glory of the earth through my ministry!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bit related, but this morning I was thinking that this is my 34th birthday, which means I've lived longer than Jesus did. Then again, I didn't have a band of followers and change the world. I also didn't get crucified. Hmm. There's always this year, right?

I LOVE This Show

FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS!

I had a few episodes TiVoed, and when my mom was in town, we watched a couple. Monday night I watched three more back to back, and I laughed more than I have in ages.

It's a freaky weird show and you should watch it now! Or at least a clip, if you don't get HBO. Some background, Bret and Jemaine are the two members of "Flight of the Conchords," and they came to NYC from New Zealand to get their band more recognition. Their manager, Murray, works at the New Zealand consulate and has awesome posters in his office like: "New Zealand! It's not part of Australia" and "New Zealand: Why Not?" Anyway, the last episode had Murray taking the boys on a "warm-up tour" of some hotel lounges in New Jersey.

Right before this scene below, the guys had given a women's water polo team their room number in the hopes they'd get to hook up with them. Earlier in the episode they both bought "rock star" leather suits with their per diem money; the suits promptly shrank when they got stuck in the rain. You can see the short arms of the jackets as this clip opens.

Lottery - You Know You Want It

The book, that is. I just got home from a book signing event in Seattle. Patricia Wood was reading from her new novel, Lottery. I loved listening to her read. Add some wine, and I was tearing up listening to her read. Well, I would have been teary eyed sans wine. I know I'm going to love this book!

The book signing was heavily attended by Patricia's family and friends, as she grew up in the Pacific Northwest. I, and a few other "regular people" were there, too. I talked a lot to a guy who is friends with one of Patricia's cousins, and he promises to have a book out soon, about his great...great grandfather, John Sargeant, a missionary who lived in Stockbridge, MA in the 1700s. It was nice to talk to a man about something other than autism and poop. Wow, I feel sooo...womanly. Oh wait, we did talk about autism. But we didn't talk about poop! Wow! I'm amazed! Did I mention I drank some wine?

Gonna start on Patricia's book right now, after I go get a chocolate cupcake from the hidden stash. Did I mention I drank some wine?

You'll have to wait to get a picture tomorrow, as my camera is in the car. I was going to try to get a picture of myself with Patricia, but you'll have to settle for one of her reading. Really, I look just like my new avatar. My skin is a tad peachier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UPDATE: I read half of the book Friday night, and finished it last night. It was wonderful! Now, go buy it!

Here's a doctored pic of me with Patricia Wood reading from her novel. I superimposed a picture I just took of myself over the back of some guy's head.

Oh, So That's What We're Doing This Weekend

This morning, Hubby and I both woke up late. Well, I got up at 2 a.m. to change a poopy diaper (Harrison has some issues with daytime pooping, and apparently can only really relax when he's asleep! Guess we'll have some therapy for him in the future. Kidding, kidding!) then again at 8:00 a.m. when Harrison was "locked in his bedroom" by Hutton, meaning Hutton had closed the door after himself when he got up this morning. It wasn't locked, but for some reason, Harrison forgot the door opens in. Sigh.

So, I had no trouble going back to sleep for another hour. But Hubby was taking his time. At 10:00, he was still at home, getting himself a bowl of cereal and some orange juice. I reminded myself that it was in fact, Friday, not Saturday.

I started cleaning up the kitchen, when I noticed something brown on the floor. Hmm. What is that? Cereal? Nooo. Of course not. It was DOG POOP. Again! Can I get a break? Where did it come from? Closest source - Fergus. He looked up at me, and I grabbed a paw and saw lots of stuff clumped on his pad. Grrr!

Meanwhile, Harrison has appeared back in the room, diaperless and demanding a new diaper, as I'm surveying the floor for more poop spots. I grabbed a paper towel and started picking up and wiping down anything that could have possibly been poop, while asking Harrison to go get a diaper, please, and trying to pin Fergus on the floor so he won't run through the house spreading poop. I was also trying to avoid being bitten by old Ferg. Fergus has lots of paw anxiety from past events, including a bad nail trim episode, as well as cutting the pad on his paw, requiring a trip to the vet for stitches. He really doesn't like having his paws handled, and when they're covered in dog poop....ARRGGGH!

I managed to get Harrison's new diaper on while pinning Fergus, then tried to drag Fergus to the bathroom, but he wasn't going for it and started baring his teeth at me again, knowing I was going for his paws again. I pushed him into the garage, then started cleaning the floor. After that was done, I readied the bathtub for a dog bath, and somehow convinced Fergus to come out of his crate in the garage and carried him to the bathroom. After bathing him, I got a muzzle on him and started trimming his nails and cutting the fur between his pads, so he won't drag in more poop. Fun times. Not something I wanted to do this morning, but I can't say that Fergus didn't need a bath and nail trim. I would have preferred not to deal with the poop, though.

Then, I finally got upstairs to the golden mecca that is my computer, to check email and drink my coffee, and saw Hubby at his desk, wearing headphones. He used to work from home, so that wasn't too unusual, but I noticed he wasn't looking at a "work" looking screen. No, he was playing a game. He looked up and said, "I'm working from home today! Halo 3 is out!"

"Oh, so you're working, huh?"

As I wrote for my title, I know what we'll be doing this weekend. The boys and I will be entertaining ourselves while Hubby devotes himself to a video game. Sigh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did I mention that Hubby is rebuilding our deck? I mentioned to him last night I wasn't sure what to do for Hutton's birthday in two weeks. I didn't want him to feel pressured, so I didn't add what was on my mind: I can't just have a simple party at home if our back deck is missing. Well, I can, but having people stuck in the kitchen and family rooms, rather than having the kids able to play outside and serve food that we grilled out, takes away from the summer birthday party at home thing. And now that Halo 3 is out, something tells me Hubby is NOT going to be working on the deck a lot this weekend. Sigh. Better start looking for places to have a birthday party.

Great Gift for the Dog in Your Life!

I'm going to have to get one of these:


Sally and Fergus don't really destroy toys like they used to, though. Maybe if I rub ole Vicky in peanut butter, they'd rip him apart.

Important Note to Remember

Note to Self:

The next time your younger son wants to climb up on your desk to pick out a DVD to watch, using your leg and office chair to climb onto the desk, please ascertain that there is no dog poop on son's shoes. Because you will forget this, I'll remind you here that this caused your "oddly cheery for afternoon" spirits to go down instantly. In fact, high spirits plummeted instantly back to normal "bitchy mom in the afternoon" levels.

Please make certain to have both children remove their shoes at the door when entering the house. I know you try to do this, but Harrison, AKA the poop smearer, isn't good at doing it on his own, so you'll need to remind him from now on.

Thank you for your attention to this matter!

Sincerely,
The Smart Half of the Brain (yeah, I know. I'm on vacation a lot. Sue me. Wait, you're too stupid to do that, Stupid Half! Ha!)

Day of a Thousand Tantrums

Friday morning, I dropped my mother off at the airport at the end of her lovely visit. She came, we shopped, we redecorated my "dining room" (read: room with dining room table normally used for sewing and other crafts) and had a nice, if too-short visit with "Gogo" as the grandkids call her.

Unfortunately, Harrison didn't want Gogo to leave. Though, during her visit, he was standoffish and aloof, like a three-year-old channeling a teenager, when she got out of the car at the airport, he immediately started crying, "Gogo come back!" It got more intense as we drove away.

It was cute and sweet at first. Aww! He misses his Gogo. My reassuring, "It's OK, sweetie!" did nothing. Eventually, after 15 minutes of driving with screaming from the backseat, Mommy was screaming in the front seat as well. I took a breath. Bribery? Sure, it might work.

"Do you want to go shopping?" Yes, it sounds crazy, but Harrison likes to shop. Hutton said, "No shopping! Go home!" OK, if I go ahead with the shopping, that will mean Hutton will be yelling and tantrumming, too. But, unfortunately, Harrison DID want to go shopping, after he heard my suggestion, and then I had to yank it back.

"Sorry, Buddy! Hutton wants to go home. Let's go home." Yeah, that went over well.

Idiot that I am, I suggested Target next. Again, Hutton didn't want to go, but Harrison did. More screaming when I said, "Let's just go home. We'll go to Target later." Only now, the screams were about Target instead of Gogo.

I tried turning it into, "If you're quiet, we'll go to Target." This turned into, "If you will please just stop shrieking, we'll go to Target." As my head pounded and I tried turning the radio up to drown the shrieks, yelling along loudly to whatever song was on. Strangely enough, this didn't work. I tried turning the radio off all together, then I just gave up. Hutton managed to keep the tantrumming Harrison going by hitting him now and then, though I never actually saw him do it.

Did I mention the ride home from the airport is about 40 minutes? Yes, it's a long ride, and listening to a screaming three-year-old makes it that much longer.

Harrison finally stopped screaming and crying when we were about five minutes from home, when he essentially passed out. I enjoyed the silence for an hour while he napped, though my headache lasted for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Hutton threw his own super tantrum around bedtime. He wanted to sleep in "Gogo's room" instead of his regular bed in Harrison's room. (Really, it's Hutton's room, so he can sleep in there if he wants, but he usually wants to sleep in Harrison's room.) I explained that Gogo had taken the sheets of the bed, and if he wanted to sleep in there he'd have to sleep in the bunkbed, since I wasn't going to put new sheets on it that night. It seemed to work. He went to sleep in the bed in Harrison's room. I tucked him in.

Then, "Go sleep in Gogo's bed!" Huh. I explained the sheet situation again. He walked into his room and jumped on "Gogo's bed" which still didn't have sheets on it. I explained the sheet situation again, and pointed to the bunk bed, saying that's where he'd have to sleep if he slept in here. Repeat this process five more times, ending with my screaming, "I'm not letting you sleep on the bed with no sheets because if you pee you'll ruin the mattress, and I'm not going to put new sheets on when your regular bed and the bunkbed have sheets on them already!" I finally got Hutton into his bed in Harrison's room, and he stayed there, after four or five more times of getting up to ask about Gogo's bed. I put the clean sheets on "Gogo's bed" yesterday, so now we won't have that problem again. Yeah, no more tantrums about anything. Right.

So, we didn't really have a thousand tantrums. It just felt that way.

Back From Sleepy Town

I'm back! I had a nice "day off" yesterday, meaning I left the house without children. I did some mystery shopping, followed by, gasp, clothes shopping for myself. My mom bought my a gift card while she was in town as an early birthday gift, and I had a nice 30% off coupon from a friend, so I did some real shopping. I got to try clothes on and everything! Amazing!

Now it's back to the grind. Laundry. Housecleaning. Blogging.

Well, that last one doesn't really belong with laundry and housecleaning. At least not all of the time.

Yawn

My mom is here for a visit, hence the lack of posts lately.

I'm enjoying her visit, but not having my normal amount of down time is exhausting. Yet, here I sit at my desk typing when I should be in bed....

I'm sure I'll be back soon with lots of scintillating reading for my faithful readers. Crickets chirping. Well, for the two of you. One. Anyone? Also, I'll be back to posting my insightful and witty comments on all of your blogs. Oh, you didn't notice the lack of my insightful and witty comments from me? Hmm.

Happy August, everyone!

Stuff

So, I changed my meez icon to reflect my new look. I got a haircut, and determined my old meez looked too young and sexy to reflect the "real me". The new one makes my face look fat, but hey, what am I gonna do - put a picture of the "real me"? Nah. Though I have a very incriminating one from the bachelorette weekend. Let's just say, watch what you do when drunk and around friends with cameras.

When I got home Sunday night, Hubby told me there was a change in Hutton's speech therapy. Due to issues with the insurance company, we would have to pay in advance, then be reimbursed for 80% of the costs, which is essentially what we do with the ABA therapy. The speech therapy was looking like it was going to add another $500 to our monthly budget that we don't have, though. We discussed it at dinner last night, and decided when Hutton starts first grade (yes, I'm almost certain we're going to go ahead and do the full day contained class first grade, rather than repeat Transition Kindergarten with the mean teacher) we would drop speech therapy.

Well, it ends up it isn't even an issue now, as I received a call from his therapist that the office is now officially closed! Apparently the insurance issues went deeper than we thought, and the therapists weren't making enough to cover costs. So, our summer is going to have some more free time, and no more early morning trips on Tuesday and Thursday, which is good, as I tend to get stressed out trying to get the boys ready on time. I feel bad for the therapists we worked with, however, as they're now out of jobs. Hopefully the demand for therapy will mean new jobs for them soon. And I hope Hutton will have enough therapy through ABA and school that we won't need to add more speech therapy in the fall, though I'm not holding my breath on that.

So, with no speech therapy today, we went and looked at cats at the Petco store that are up for adoption, and may go back tomorrow afternoon to adopt one or two. I don't know how well we'll do keeping them in the house with the boys and dogs going in and out, but I'm going to try. Hubby was asking tonight if I thought it was more humane for a cat to be euthanized, or to escape outside and be eaten by a coyote. I told him to define "humane", then pointed out that humane has the root word human, not cat, so cats could have a totally different idea of "cate". Hutton really liked one of the cats available for adoption, though, and the boys still ask when Tully is coming home. Sigh.

Tonight I had a soccer game, and received a phone call from my stepmother right before the game. She told me my stepsister had her baby last night, but there were complications during the birth necessitating an emergency C-section, and the baby is in the NICU and needs genetic testing. They had tested for Down Syndrome in utero, and my stepmother didn't really go into detail of what they were testing for, or what problems that baby has. I didn't really know what to say. I told her congratulations, and that I was glad Stepsis was doing OK after the c-section, but I'm not good at coming up with things to say in situations like this. I said something stupid about how she has a "real" grandchild now, as opposed to the step-grandchildren of my siblings and me. She said she considered our kids her grandchildren, too, and that my dad had cherished the time he got to spend with them, especially when the two of them had come up for a weekend to babysit Hutton when Hubby and I went to Hawaii for a wedding. That made me cry, of course, and I told her I was glad he got to spend time with Hutton, and that I hoped her grandson would be home from the hospital soon. I'm just sad for my stepsister having to go through this when a new baby should mean joy and happiness, not worry. I hope she and her husband are good support for each other and the baby will be OK.

Bringing SexyBack With the College Friends

This past weekend I flew to San Francisco to celebrate a bachelorette weekend with my college friends/housemates. The seven of us all shared a house for two years in college (well, technically that's a brothel in the town of Durham, if three or more unrelated women live together, so let's just say we spent time there, but didn't really live there) and try to get together once a twice a year as a group.

Thursday morning, Hubby and the boys dropped me at the airport, and I flew in to San Jose, stopping at my stepsister's house to have lunch with her and my stepmother. Stepsis looked great. She's due with her first baby any day, and is a long-distance runner, so has the perfectly fit with beach ball sticking out in front look. Stepmom was fine, too, even though she seemed to gloss over that she has neglected to return any of my calls since the middle of January. She's either depressed or attempting to get on with her life since my dad's death three years ago September, but either way, if she thinks she can get me out of her life that easily, she's got another think coming!

After lunch, I drove my rented minivan up to San Fran to my friend Amy's lovely home, where four of us made cupcakes. Or rather, Amy made cupcakes, and the rest of us decorated them with "witty" pictures and statements. My first read "Sugar Tits", with an image in frosting and sprinkles of said breasteses. There was also a cupcake decorated with a frosting picture of a sex toy that the other three had bought at the local adult store earlier, a penis cupcake, etc. You get the idea. The red velvet cupcakes were very tasty, even with adult images. That evening, we picked up two more housemates, including the guest of honor, who is getting married in September, at the airport in "the cherry" as I dubbed the red Dodge Caravan, and shared more laughs, cupcakes, and drinks that night.

Friday, our seventh housemate arrived, and we headed to lunch, followed by a walk on the beach with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. We window shopped, we drank wine and discussed serious topics (the state of women at our college, as opposed to what it was 15 years ago, politics, jeans), we went back to Amy's and made a delicious dinner. (Well, again, I had nothing to do with the dinner making, which is why it was delicious.) We watched the DVD copy of two films Jen made in her college film class, in which most of us made our film debuts. They were hilarious. (though in a very artistic and well filmed manner, of course, Jen!) We finished off the night with a game of "Totally 80s!" Trivial Pursuit, which my team won, as I am the 80s trivia master. Well, my teammates did help, but I think I'm the only one who remembers the spin-off series, "AfterMASH". Really, even Jamie Farr has blocked that one out.

Saturday, we walked on the Golden Gate Bridge, then went hiking in the Muir Woods. It was hot and we were all svitzing and complaining as we hiked the first two miles up hill, but we still laughed and talked and enjoyed the shadier half of the hike as we went back down through the beautiful redwood trees.

When we returned to Amy's, we showered, then the real fun began: the opening of gifts. The adult themed gifts were fun and we all laughed and shared stories. There was "The Fiance Game" - a tradition we started at the bachelorette party before my wedding ten years ago. Similar to The Newlywed Game, but played before the wedding, one of the housemates calls the fiance of the bachelorette being feted to ask him questions, then the bachelorette is asked the same questions, and lots of, "Ahh! Isn't he sweet?!" and "Oh my God! I can't believe that!" ensue.

While the gifts and games were going on, we all were getting our drink on, in preparation for our dinner. We took two cabs to the destination: AsiaSF, a restaurant and club with lovely "ladies" as wait staff and entertainment. They really were pretty, though Kelly and I agreed one looked like Latoya or Michael Jackson from too much plastic surgery. I thought most of the ladies looked more feminine than I do, with larger boobs and smaller "guns" as we were joking about my giant muscular arms throughout the weekend. The table of drag queens sitting next to us made me feel better, though. They were all a bit more masculine, so I felt better, and I wasn't retouching my makeup throughout the meal as the lady next to me was.

After dinner, Bachelorette Dawn suddenly got very serious and starting polling/grilling the rest of us about our sex lives, which resulted in lots of laughs and true confessions. We finished up with a short visit to the dance club downstairs, where we posed on the stripper pole, but mostly felt old as we looked at the younger ladies in higher heels. We got cabs back to Amy's, where we all went to bed after downing much water, fearing the impact of the drinking. Sunday morning, Eva left at the crack of dawn, scrambling out to the airport shuttle after the alarm clock failed to go off. I'm impressed she made it so quickly. Julie and Kelly left later that morning, then Amy, Jen, Dawn and I went to lunch and walked around Golden Gate Park. Amy's husband returned from his weekend "Escape From the Crazy Women" - a smart thing to do when the seven of us are together, as Hubby will attest to. (Being awoken early in the morning to "The Sound of Music" blaring from the TV downstairs is a memory he has from my baby shower weekend in 2001.) I drove back to San Jose, where it was 20 degrees hotter, and made my way home to a smelly home -- what is that smell anyway? Does it always smell like this? -- and cranky Harrison, who was out of sorts from staying up too late picking me up at the airport and couldn't decide if he wanted a bath, didn't want a bath, wanted to use the potty, didn't want to use the potty, etc. Much tantrumming and screaming ensued, but eventually he was in bed and I was doing laundry and going through mail. Back to Reality.

Oh yes, the theme of our weekend ended up being "SexyBack", or rather _____Back, filling in the blank with whatever was going on at the time. Overheard this weekend:

I'm bringing:
Cupcakes Back
Frosting Back
Creepy Back (our visit to the "Cell Phone" lot by the SF airport Friday night)
80s Back
Windy Back (The Golden Gate Bridge and beach by the bridge)
Sweaty Back
Lazy Back
Ugly Back
Drinking Back


Seeing my girlfriends was wonderful, and I love that we've managed to stay in touch and have these reunions over the years, as we all live in different parts of the country (San Diego, San Francisco, St. Louis, Philadelphia and New York City - or Brooklyn and Queens). Truly, we're bringing Friendship Back! OK, that was cheezy. I'm bringing CheezyBack.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Hutton, one morning, looking out at the rain: "Where does that light go? [This is a new routine he and Harrison have worked out for the car. At every traffic light, ask where it goes. Mommy (that's me!) replies, "To Redmond. To speech therapy. To Woodinville. To Hell." Well, not that last one, unless "Highway to Hell" happens to be on the radio. In which case, Mommy would change the station. Gotta stop referring to myself in the third person as Mommy!] That light goes to the rain! The rain needs to be all done! Rain be all finished!"

Harrison, in the car, on the way to speech therapy, "What's this song about?" We were listening to ELO's "Evil Woman" on the radio. I replied, "It's a song about an evil woman, like Mommy." Harrison said it was "his song" which means he likes it, and he started dancing in his car seat. Gotta love the Jack FM weird variety of songs.

A few days later, also in the car, also on the way to speech therapy, Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" came on. Man, I love that song, and even though I didn't really need my boys to learn new euphemisms for sex, I couldn't turn it off. Harrison, boogieing in his car seat in the back, announced it was his song. Hmm. Let's wait a few more years on that, little guy!

While watching an episode of "Curious George", in which George buries the only copy of a speech the Man with the Yellow Hat is writing, Hutton got very excited. "Curious George is going to speech therapy!" He was glad he and George had one more thing in common, I guess! He loves this show, and has tried many things he's seen, like building dams in the yard, using the garden hose to make rivers to dam.