Dear Mean Faerie or Goblin or Spawn of Satan Who Is In Charge Of Making People and Animals Barf,

Hi.

I know it’s been a while since we’ve spoken, and to be perfectly frank, that’s been just fine with me. Yet, you’ve forced the conversation today, haven’t you? In fact, you have ruined a perfectly good post I was writing about getting to meet Mary Roach last night, co-opting it, and forcing me to, instead, write you a mean letter.

Listen, MFOGOSOSWIICOMPAAB, I know that you know I’ve hated you for pretty much my whole life. This has not seemed to bother you, and we’ve been able to happily coexist without bothering each other very often. So what confuses me is why you had to come after me with such a vengeance today.

Well, I should clarify. You didn’t come after me, you came after the wee-er one. While she was in her car seat. And we were 35 minutes from home. And I had nary a wipe or change of clothes in the car.

Because of you, MFOGOSOSWIICOMPAAB, I am now not only going to have to set fire to the car seat, I am going to have to set fire to my car, too. Not cool.

And then, just as a little haha joke you thought it would be funny for us to finally make it home (after completely dismantaling the car seat, strapping a nearly naked wee-er one into her brother’s booster, strapping the wee one into the front passenger seat, and high-tailing it down the highway as fast as I could go while holding my breath from the stench) and discover a GIANT PILE OF PUKE on the newly cleaned carpet.

WTF, MFOGOSOSWIICOMPAAB, W. T. F.?

At first I was really pissed. Why would you make the dog puke everywhere like that? But then I noticed the empty box of raisins full of the teeth marks from a really stupid dog. Are you laughing hysterically now that I can’t hate you for making him puke? Are you pleased that even though I want to swiftly kick your ass for the drama you caused in the car today, I can’t, because you might have saved the dog’s life? Of course, we still have to watch him carefully all night so that we can catch the first signs of kidney failure, because the moron seems to have re-eaten a portion of the regurgitated raisins (gross), but at least there was that initial puke to keep him from croaking.

So thanks, MFOGOSOSWIICOMPAAB. You have reinstated contact with me after radio silence for quite some time. You have killed the car seat, which pisses me off. You have altered the smell of my car, which really pisses me off. But hopefully you have saved my dog. So I guess I can’t hate you as much I want to.

Still. You suck.

Sincerely,
Kari
concerned mother

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not the cool kid

wonder what it’s like
five hundred comments per post
mommy superstar

There are so many mommy blogs out there. I hardly read any of them.

Every now and then I will pop over to one of the super popular ones, but for some inexplicable reason I can’t read more than one or two posts without getting tremendously irritated. This makes no sense because a) I am basically a mommy blogger b) the posts that irritate me are sometimes pretty funny.

This leads me to believe that I don’t like popular people just because they’re popular and/or I am an asshole with problems stemming from buried jealousy and out-of-control egotism.

It’s interesting to me to think about this (I fault the rampant egotism). Am I really jealous of the Dooce’s out there? Not really. I don’t want people making satiric websites about how I’m screwing up my kids. That is something I am happy to do myself. But on the other hand, I see these sort of inside-joke-y posts from mamas who have just come back from some unnameable, unspeakable, top secret, invite-only mommy blogger advertising expo/conference type thing and I think, "Well, damn. It sure would be nice to be famous enough to get invited so that I could say Hell No."

It’s the same conundrum I’ve had since my school girl days. Would it be nice to be the girl who has a brand new outfit to wear to school everyday, and all the boys hanging off of her? Probably not as fun as you might think. Do I enjoy being the girl who wears the same sweatshirt three times a week and who starts the underground "newspaper" making fun of the Girl With The Clothes? Waaaay more fun than you would think.

So why do I feel such vitriol towards my "successful" "peers" out there? They could care less about me, which doesn’t bother me. I am happy to keep ignoring their blogs as a sort of continued protest against the mainstream (even though I am about as mainstream as one can get). And yet, I feel compelled every few months or so to drop by one of these blogs and be driven completely bonkers. Bonkers! For no reason!

It is like the local band going to see Pearl Jam and complaining the whole time about how much Eddie Vedder has sold out, even while buying the new album.

Surely there are other people who feel this way? We can start up the Snobby Blogger Conundrum Consortium. Fun! And we’re too old to get a detention because of it!

Today

Things that I am not doing:
sleeping
eating queso
cleaning my fridge
laundry
vacuuming
writing anything important
watching TV
wearing clothes that are less than eight years old
making money
cooking

Things that I am doing:
reading the Terror (awesome, by the way)
sitting in a chair
vaguely keeping an eye on the wee-er one
daydreaming of wood floors
listening to Buena Vista Social Club
imagining that Tina Fey wants to be my friend

It’s time for Sousa again

you will never guess
not in one gamillion years
what happened last night

Click here for some very important background music.

The wee-er one slept in her own bed! All night long! Without nursing once! I KNOW!

It’s a miracle, but I can’t take credit for it. My mother-in-law is here and she slept in the wee-er one’s room with her last night. Apparently, though, the wee-er one woke only once with a small whimper and went back to sleep. When she sleeps with me, she wakes every hour and a half to kick me in the head, nurse, pinch me, nurse some more, and pull my hair.

This is quite an accomplishment. We are celebrating by being grouchy and demanding pirate booty.

such an old lady

exciting morning
guys with grillz performed magic
carpet is so clean!

I shouldn’t admit to this, but wow! Dudes came today and cleaned the downstairs carpet. All of the mysterious black spots and yogurt stains and spat out cheerios are gone. Gone! The dog pee stains remain (alas) but I can pretend to overlook them while the rest of the carpet looks so shiny and new.

So, Guys With Gold Teeth (who made the wee-er one furrow her brow, point to their mouths and say quizzically "teef? teef?"), thanks for cleaning up my family’s filth. You rock.

By the way, GWGT? What does your schedule look like for next week? I’m sure we will have destroyed all your handywork waaaay before then. Maybe I could get you on a retainer.

Guys? Hello? Why are you running away so fast?

Four years

type, ignore the kids
chatter into the ether
truly have no shame

It’s been just over four years now that I have been blogging. I started this blog at the very end of March 2004. Can you believe that? I was just going through the archives, and I had forgotten that everything actually started on a LiveJournal blog. I’m sure it’s still there somewhere, floating in the ether. Then I switched to this format and wrote mostly haiku, with a smattering of posts about trying to be a writer. Then I started writing stupid imitations of rejected-NPR essays and critiques of famous people’s hair.

It took me a while to find my groove.

That groove was the wee one, I guess. It’s hard to believe that when this blog was started, he was younger than the wee-er one is now. And, yet, here I am, still typing away and having a good time doing it.

When I started haikuoftheday I never thought about how long it would last or what it would morph into. But I’m happy with what it is now. It’s a great outlet, a great writing exercise, and a great way to be reminded that I’m not alone in the day-to-day world of mommy-ing. It’s funny to write that out loud, because I don’t really consider this a mommy blog. Maybe that’s what it really is, but I’ve never thought of it that way. I’ve just thought of it as a Kari blog. I dig it. And I thank you for taking the time to read it.

Go check out the archives! Go see what an idiot I’ve been (and continue to be)! Go! It’s funny! I promise!

one more day! one more day!

O, complex Starbuck
can you be the last Cylon?
or the one true God?

Battlestar Galactica is back tomorrow! I am so geeking out over here.

Can I watch three seasons in one day to prepare myself for tomorrow? Probably not, even I can’t ignore the kids for THAT long. I’ll just keep watching this over and over.

Battlestar! Tomorrow!