I feel like I should blog

Holy crap, you guys, this month has been INSANE WITH THE BUSY. Things to do here, things to do there, people to talk to, phone calls to make, children to holler at, books to write, books to plan, book to shill. It has been busier than busy at a busyfest.

The good news: Ike-a-saurus is rampaging around like a typical 2-year-old, the wee one has transitioned well to his new school, and the wee-er one has discovered a love for spicy, garlic-infused pickles. I finished draft two of a new book (that will probably need a lot more drafts, but still, yay!), and I have insanely decided to do NaNoWriMo, which, for those of you who don't know, means I have committed to writing a 50,000 word novel entirely in the month of November. Maybe. If I can manage it.

The bad news: not a lot of time for blogging around here.

The news of the future: I'm getting ready to start the super fun times of calling Medicaid Travel every single day and talking to someone new who tells me different things, so that we can get our next trip to the 'Nati planned. We'll be going up there in mid-December so Ike can have a couple of tests done, to make sure his airway is OK, and to see if he can be cleared for thin liquids. Right now we still thicken everything he drinks. Nectar-thickened lemonade? Mmmm.

The news of today: There will be a zombie, a minotaur and a cowboy walking the streets tonight, in search of candy. The minotaur is upset because his face will not be hairy enough. The zombie is upset because she doesn't want messy hair. The cowboy is upset because he doesn't actually want to wear any clothes at all. Just boots. So, when you see the non-hairy minotaur, the perfectly coiffed zombie, and the naked cowboy, be sure to say hello.

The news of my kitchen: I am making pumpkin seeds right now, but I don't think I had enough seeds for the recipe. So, actually, I am making a slurry of butter, oil and salt, with a few seeds mixed in. Still sounds kind of good, though, yes? It smells fantastic.

The news of my ass: it keeps getting bigger, you guys. I don't know what to do about it. Normally, I am not worried about such things, but I feel like lately things have gotten out of control. I even briefly thought about buying an exercise bike, or some kind of DVD on How To Shrink Your Out of Control Ass in 30 Days. I've made no commitments yet, though. The ass and I are still discussing things. Like maybe how I should stop eating homemade slurries of oil and butter and salt.

The news of the hipsters next door: I have yet to see their Halloween costumes, which is very disappointing. However, I have been cleaning up the trail of detritus they leave behind them as they walk past my house to their cars. Beer bottles, skull candy ear buds, Sonic bags. I'm hoping a nice fat joint will fall out of someone's pocket, but so far no luck.

The news of my living room carpet: Still awful and disgusting

One last thing: Go Rangers! Since the Horns have decided to implode on a spectacular scale only known to such things as Death Stars and former child actors, you, the Rangers, are my only hope for Texas sports. Claw! Or Whatever! I don't know what that means!


Hey, mom!



Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom!

Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom! Hey, mom!





I love you.

4:30, bastion of terror

three children shouting
demanding dinner and snacks
yet they won't eat food

time to torture Ike
time to whine and scream and kick
time for tequila

please go play outside
and then they turn on the hose
with back door open

sand in diaper
all of the shoes are missing
someone stole my keys

where is my robot
to cook dinner and be nice
I'm going to hide

talk about homework
lots of homework talk talk talk

dog is barking now
there is never any peace
watch my head explode


I was going to do a thing that would be awesome, but I don’t have the time or minimal skill to make it happen

That's right. I was going to borrow the Hyperbole and a Half method of blogging, and illustrate a story for you about the time I was in afterschool care and forced to eat two pieces of pizza that were this big:

so that I could play in the Chuck E Cheese balls. It all culminated in a puking near miss at a laundromat and a permanent fear of ever wearing socks in the house again. Also a permanent fear of pizza.

Like I said, though, no time. Less skill.

So. In a bid to further borrow from Hyperbole and a Half, in an homage, a terrorist fist bump, a kiss on the cheek to the hilarity that is Allie and her blog of sheer spectacularness, I am going to write some short letters to inanimate objects. Usually, my letters are long and full of vulgarity, so we'll see how this works.


Dear Ike-a-saurus's toenail,

Why do you have to be so gross? Can't you cover his whole toe and not be green? Having a troll toe is not what a baby needs. In case you wondering.

Thank you for your attention to this matter,



Dear Persimmon That Is Biodegrading On My Kitchen Counter,

Can you stop doing that?




Dear Coffee Mug,

Aren't you aware that Darjeeling tea is the Champagne of teas? Then why do you make it taste ass-y? I am pretty sure that Darjeeling tea is not the screw-on-lid "champagne" of teas, and yet, you are fouling it up.

I blame you and not the fact that I steeped the bag too long. Everything is the mug's fault.

Always the mug's fault,



Dear My Lower Back,

You suck so much that you suck all of the suck out of sucking things.

Feel free to blame the coffee mug.

up yours,



Dear 4:45 pm,

Why do you always make my kids think it's dinner time? 4:45 pm is not dinner time. It is mommy facebook time and also mommy sit in a chair and try not to cry time.




Dear Letter t,

Why do you have to be so close to the letter r?

Pain in my fucking ass, t. Seriously.




Dear Butternut Squash,

Why do you have to taste like barf? I really want to like you and eat you and be healthy and have a smaller ass. But you will not comply. Man, why do you have to be that way.

Why can't you taste like something that makes my ass big?




Dear Third Grade Word Problems,

Why do you have to be shouted at me while I'm trying to blog? You were irritating in third grade and you are more irritating now. If Thomas has 18 thank you letters and only 9 stamps then Thomas must live in a parallel fucking universe because no sane mom would invite 18 third graders to her house for a party.

Obviously sane,



Dear Baby Wipes,

When have you ever been toys?

Answer: Never. Stop being so beguiling to the baby.

giving you a warning look,



Dear water hose,

Why can't you stop being an asshole?

your kinks make me stabby,



Dear The Phrase "your kinks make me stabby,"

I love you long time.

your friend and omnipotent creator,




Would you rather be squeezed into a Chilean rescue tube


Spend the hours of 4-6 pm with three kids who have not napped


Eat the goulash in the fridge that you made two weeks ago


Be in 7th grade again for two weeks


Put on last winter's skinny jeans AFTER you eat Thankgiving dinner


Get your hair cut like Justin Bieber


Change your name to Humper J. Bootybutts


Open mouth kiss someone after they eat Funyuns


Stick oranges in your bra before parent teacher conference




I love you, man

I'm having one of those rare moments where I sort of like everybody. I have a mad desire to, like, talk to people and be around them.

I know!


I mean, it's not like I hate people under normal circumstances, because I don't. I just… feel awkward and weird and am full of pauses and jokes no one understands and lots of times I accidentally mumble and people are like, WHAT?! so I have to repeat myself and you know, it's a disaster.

I'm not saying any of those things are different right now, but for some reason they seem less bothersome. PLUS, it turns out I sometimes like to hear what people have to say about stuff. I am also sometimes interested in possibly eating food and/or drinking a beverage with said people and talking about the stuff for which I just spoke of.

Don't worry, though, I'm sure this weirdness will pass. It's probably just part of the whole "holy shit, we can go out into the world again!" feeling that the family is relishing in. Pretty soon we will be back to our old hermit selves, especially when it gets cold and RSV season starts up in full swing.

Until then, though, the beautiful weather, the wee one's new school, getting Ike-a-saurus out to playgrounds and grocery stores… it's all having this cumulative effect of me being all, "Hi, People! What a lovely day, yes?"


So, please disregard the crazy lady who needs a haircut and whose kids have to wear rain boots because she can't seem to muster the energy to buy them new shoes. She is obviously going through a thing of unknown origin. Perhaps this is the other, unspoken side of PTSD. Perhaps she is ovulating. Who knows. Anyway, watch out for her and her shenanigans.

You have be warned.

You will have to excuse my tardiness

I just suddenly realized I haven't blogged in a bunch of days. Doh.

Things are just so crazy busy around here. The Ike-a-saurus is quite a taskmaster when it comes to preventing me from working at my computer. He is relentless. If I could somehow train him to be the opposite way then I would get so much work done. It would be Guinness book worthy, the amount of work I would do while he taskmastered me with his growls and shouts.

As it is, he screams his cute fool head off every time I even approach my computer. Also, he refuses to nap. So this leaves me with, like, 8pm til whenever I pass out (10? 11 if I'm lucky?) to cram in writing a book, blogging, emailing people, watching TV, eating, etc. Sometime, I'm going to have to find a way out of this "routine" because it isn't working out that well.

I'm taking a short break right now from working on my book, just so I can do this. Multi-tasking!

Speaking of multi-tasking, I was informed by the wee-er one today that she can pee and poo AT THE SAME TIME. We marveled over how time-saving this bit of multi-tasking is. Now, if only she could clean and eat at the same time, we'd be golden.

I hate that phrase "we'd be golden". Please strike that from the record. I never said it.

What else can I tell you guys? The wee one is transferring to a new school on Monday. That has been a source of stress and headaches and stomachaches and more stress, but only on my part. The wee one is all for it. All.for.it. I'm the one who's going to have to schlepp across town 600 times a day to make it work. I hope it's worth it. I hope, hope.

Also, apropos to nothing we're talking about here, my downstairs carpet is now so disgusting I might rip it out with own two hands sometime this week. For real. It is foul and gnarly and just plain gross. Does Obama have a flooring stimulation package? Because my floor needs stimulating.

That whole paragraph is super gross.

OK. Yes. I have to get back to my book now. Exciting things are happening. I just hope they're exciting to other people so I can sell this manuscript and buy some new floors.

Most boring blog post ever?

You're welcome.