Here we go . . .

Well.

August is over. We are almost at the end of September - the last month before it is officially The Holiday Season.

It got colder. Abruptly, if you ask me. I guess I'm always caught off guard by the down-shift from 85 to 65.

Where are all my pants?

Anyway, I bought ghost-shaped marshmallows last night, and we used them this morning for car snack.

What? You don't know about Car Snack?

We instituted Car Snack about a year ago when the children were resisting getting in the car to go to daycare in the morning. So we bribed them (duh) with some kind of treat they could only have in the car.

Now they don't care so much about going, but they sure aren't about to give up car snack.

So the boys are eating some ghost-shaped marshmallows and Sam announces, "Ghosts are mammals."

"I don't think they are, hon."

"Yeah, they are. Because they have fur and give birth to live young."




I don't really know where to start with that, but, dude, ghosts are dead.

It occurs to me that I should stop referencing my boring life.

Because if I know the cosmos (and I DO) that's going to get me a ticket to middle-of-the-night barf faster than I can say, "I wonder what spaghetti tastes like mixed with stomach bile?"

What I really mean to say is not that I am bored by my life, because I'm not, but, rather, that I imagine everyone ELSE is bored by my life.

There has been a dearth of funny things happening to me.

I can tell you however, that it is NOT a good idea to try to refinance through Quicken Loans unless you ENJOY being yelled at like a naughty nine-year-old who has both angered and disappointed her parents.

Seriously, Quicken, this is AMERICA. And I am a GROWN ASS WOMAN. And I am MIDDLE-CLASS. The tactics you are using may work with children who are chronic underachievers, who need to be "scared straight," or, you know, the underprivileged, who are used to being pushed around, but I am WHITE, and I am used to a certain amount of DEFERENCE.

I wonder if they would have talked the same way to a man. I wonder why they find this to be an acceptable/successful approach. All I am is sure that I don't want to do business with them. I got off the phone and I felt angry and embarrassed. That they acted that way, and I, generally speaking, let them. I wish I had had the balls to give them what for.

Eloquently.

I'm composing useless speeches in my head.

It reminds me of a post from long ago, that I would link to if I knew how, about State Farm's hard sell approach to selling me life insurance.

I hate places that do business that way.

It convinces me that the product does not sell itself.

BTW - I don't really think I deserve respect because I'm white. That was a joke about white privilege. White privilege is funny stuff.

That's it?

A story about stumbling around in the bathroom?

Yes.

My back still hurts.

Our car broke down.

At McDonald's.

Super Klassy, eh?

I'm trying to refinance our mortgage.

I'm going to the dentist today.

To get a bite guard.

I won the lottery.

Not really.

God. Finally.

I knew I'd do something embarrassing eventually.

As an aside, do you remember how I mentioned that the bathrooms are FAAAAAAR away from my office?

Well, I found out that there is a short cut.

But you have to go through another group's suite. You can walk the long way, through public hallways, or the short way, through another suite.

I tried walking the short way for a few days, but it made me so ANXIOUS. I was worried that those people were like, "Uh, who does that girl think she is? Just WALTZING through here. Nice girls don't even USE the bathroom."

So I just gave up and now I'm back to walking the long way. I use the time to think about what a freakin' wuss I am.

Which is all just to say that CLEARLY I care about what people think of me.

Have you ever been alone and wanted to do something embarrassing, but realized that your alone-ness could totally be a temporary thing, but decided to take the gamble and gone ahead and done that embarrassing thing?

I have!

The thing is, earlier today I pulled a muscle in my back looking at pictures on Facebook. And I'm in the bathroom and I decide to lean over to [try to] touch my toes. My pilates instructor has shown me a stretch that opens up the small of my back, which, by the way, I thought was total bullshit at the time, but has been very enjoyable.

So I'm stretching and thinking that I would look pretty weird if anyone decided to come in. But I think to myself, "what are the chances someone will come in in the next few minutes?" Which was an ABSURD thing to think because this one bathroom services all 50 or so women on this floor, and ladies sure do use it a lot, so I've almost never seen it empty. It was a RIDICULOUS thought on my part, that was quickly answered by the sound of the door opening.

So I fling myself upright, but all the blood that was collecting in my head-ball-area now has to rush quickly down, which renders me light-headed, so I stagger to the side and crash into the mirror.

I lurch quickly to the sink to pretend I'm just washing my hands with zeal.

But I'm pretty sure that lady was looking at me funny.

I think she was from the suite I used to walk through.

Nightly ritual

Every night, before I go to sleep, I lie in bed and imagine my most worrisome worry: That one of the boys will wake up sick in the night.

I picture waking up to the sound of them crying, or to the sound of barfing, or a small hand patting my face.

The thought of being woken up in the middle of the night to a sick kid is the one thing guaranteed to make me never want to have another child and, in fact, who wants the ones I have now?

So every night I worry about that before I fall asleep.

Recently, I've added a new one.

You know, to mix things up a little bit.

After I get done worrying about the boys getting sick in the night, I start to imagine a bat flying around in my bedroom.

I have to believe that the second worry will abate in time.

There you go. Two of my greatest fears. Barf and bats.

So how are YOU?

I don't know, guys.

I haven't posted much recently. Because nothing funny has happened.

And I don't enjoy writing about the not-funny.

If it's not funny it's just

oh, me?

I'm tired, but not very super tired, just regular tired.

I'm hungry because I'm on a diet. But still enormous because my body apparently has a strangle hold on my fat. "Doooooon't leeeeeeeave meeeee, faaaaaat! I will misssssss you sooooooo muuuuuch!"

Owen pooped in the potty and not on the floor!

The baby smiled! And she is too tall for her clothes.

My office is cold.

I like to watch TV.



See? That's not entertaining.

My life is very pleasant, but not much is going on that I feel the need to share.

So let's hope that something interesting and funny happens soon.

If a mom talks, does she make a sound?

It's morning. 6:55 a. m.

We've just been joined in bed by two of our ill-considered offspring.

Chris rolls out of bed to take a shower. It's a good choice because getting in the shower means you don't have to find the remote PLUS you get to be alone. Mostly.

"UM, CAN I WATCH TV?" Owen asks. Whines? I'm not sure which. He asks in a really high-pitched voice.

"Sure, okay, just let me find the remote." Is it where it's supposed to be? Did Chris cuddle up with it last night in bed? On the floor? Oh, there it is. "What do you guys want to watch?"

"SCOOBY!" Owen answers enthusiastically.

"No Scooby. You know you aren't allowed to watch Scooby."

"It's too scary, right mom?" Sam says.

"Scooby is scawy?"

"That's right, Owen. You can't watch Scooby because it's too scary, so what do you want to watch?"

"SCOOBY-DOO!" Owen answers enthusiastically.

"NO SCOOBY!"

"MOM? We can't watch Scooby because it will freak Lilly out like you were freaked out by the bat, right?" Sam hypothesizes.

"Well . . . yes. But I wasn't 'freaked out' exactly. I think I was responding appropriately given the danger involved. Anyway, what do you want to watch?"

"SCOOBY-DOOBY-DOO!" Owen answers enthusiastically.

That's it. You're getting Blue's Clues.

Not to worry, I'm still largely invisable

I went out with a friend of my recently.

Do you like how I said that all casual, as if, oh, yeah, just me going out with my friends again. Do it all the time. Getting a little boring, you know. All these friends and going's out's.

Anyway, this is my friend who is an excellent hand-washer and is the kind of woman who would actually scream or something if she were being followed by a weird guy, whereas I would NEVER make such a scene.

Which is to say that she is good at paying attention to her safety.

Being around her makes me think of all the dangerous things I do, like leaving windows open at night and writing a public blog using our real names.

So I did a google search of my name. Not to fear, people! Somebody would have to search "crazy AND baby AND chris AND falling AND grumpy AND pregnant" in order to find this blog. So I don't think anyone is going to come across it unless they already know about it, in which case they probably already know us and the fact that we have a perfectly good baby for selling.

You know what does come up when you search my name?

1) the fact that I am on Facebook
2) Kim Hodgkiss's financial records (DUDE! That's not even me!)
3) all the Facebook groups I'm in
4) the fact that I signed a petition on-line once and had the poor judgement to use my real name

What is this petition, you ask? Must be important, right? Using my real name and all. We recently had a hugely important election. It was probably in support of Barack Obama or gay marriage or something.

Nope.

It was the petition to keep the American version of the children's television show, Hi-5, on the air. "Keep American Hi-5 Alive!" it's called.

Super.

Why did I DO that?

Plus, I think it totally sounds xenophobic. Like, "Let's keep Hi-5 for Americans! I'm tired of those immigrant Hi-5's!" When really, I just liked the show. I'm sure the Australian version is lovely, but it's not on my TV and was not being cancelled.

So that's it. That's my internet footprint.

My contribution to society is INVALUABLE.