Time to flex my brain muscles.

This one's going to be a big one, folks. I promise I will try to not let it just be one huge run-on sentence. I've got a bunch of nonsense to say and I'll be damned if I'm letting the opportunity slip away from me in the INSANITY that is going to ensue very shortly.

No, not the normal insanity. Like QUADRUPLE that. And throw in some fire ants.

I considered going through and basically trying to fill you in on all the wonderful, amazing things I've done in the past 4-5 months in which we were not on speaking terms, but that would take forever and most of my readers are friends with me on facebook, which means that you pretty much already know. However, in case you have forgotten how adorable my kids are, here are a few pictures to start us off on the right foot:

Riley at the Baltimore Harbor. People say he looks just like me and I'll take that with thanks.

He's a photogenic lad.

Too cool for me.

I got this one via text message while at work and coffee came from my nose.

Love this picture.

Now let's move on.

The next couple of years are slotted to be very busy for me. Tomorrow I start school again and I am apparently trying to prove something to myself or to you or to random strangers that I may consider assaulting on the street by taking a full course load- well, slightly less now, but I'll get into my stupidity in a moment. This means I will be working 40 hours a week, commuting nearly 15 hours a week and according to the syllabus, spending anywhere from "12-18 hours a week" studying. PER CLASS. Ha! I am taking five classes this semester. So that means in order to be a successful distance learning student, I should quit my job, give up my kids, showers, food, evacuating my bowels, etc. etc.
But I imagine that's a conservative estimate. People have done this before and will do it again. I want this and I'm going to do it. If the first semester seems too huge a burden to bear, I'll just take less credits in the semesters that follow and delay my graduation date- hell, I've waited this long, what's another 6 months? I've already had to extend my plan another semester anyway to accommodate the idiocy that I've hinted at a few times. You ready for this?

I took math and English placement tests yesterday to determine which classes I should be in. Actually, let me elaborate and set the scene for you, here, so you can taste my frustration. I took these same placement tests the year after I graduated high school and nearly aced both of them. I then proceeded to NOT go to college. Those test results expired after five years. So I lugged myself the 45 minutes to the closest campus to take the tests again yesterday. I had straightened my hair and looked awesome, but the campus is under construction and I had to walk some god-awful long path around buildings in the rain to get to where I needed to go. I looked like a poodle with smudged mascara. After taking my English test, as I waited for them to set up my computer for the math portion, it occurred to me that I had parked in student parking without a permit. Alas, my computer was now ready and I sat down to take the math portion, quietly hoping my car would not be towed.

English scores- 98% Reading, 99% Writing- Honors English qualified. I don't really give myself too big a pat on the back as far as that's concerned. The amount of reading and writing I do means that I should be scoring that high or else I don't know myself at all.

Math? I don't know a percentage. What I do know is that out of 9 units, I only passed 0, 1, 2 and 3 and I am not qualified for the math course (yes, only one math course) required in my degree plan. At first, I was pissed. Mostly I was pissed because where I KNOW my definite weakness is graphing and that I likely got every last graphing-related question wrong, I thought I was kicking the ass of the rest of it. Apparently I was wrong, or the weight of the graphing questions was much higher than I thought it would be. In any case, I took my papers and gathered my things and walked the long path of shame through the rain and back to my car. My car was present and un-ticketed, so I was very fortunate there. I texted Russell with the admission that obviously I was not fit to even lick the boots of a normal person with basic arithmetic skills and decided to go to a nearby restaurant to treat myself to a greasy plate of cheese fries while I brooded.

Said restaurant had been shut down since the last time I had been in the area. I accidentally went out-of-turn through a 4-way stop in my frustration and pissed a bunch of people off. I ended up in some random parking lot behind a complex of doctor's offices, trying to figure out how to get back to the highway.

I will give it a rest, but that's basically how the day progressed. By evening, I think my give-a-shit had thankfully broken and I felt a bit better. I know I'm not stupid. I'd done well on the test before. The problem is that I am now 30 years old and the last time I did most of those things was...... probably the last time I took the math placement test, in 2001. So maybe I need to brush up a little more? Big deal. At least it lightened my load for this semester a little bit! I will try to retake the test before next semester and see if I can't do a little better. If not, then I will have someone smarter than me pose as me and take the test in my place.

Other things coming up! I will try to write about each of these as they happen, but in case I am too CRAZY busy:

1) My 7th wedding anniversary to my husband (May 21st)
2) My one-year anniversary of being independently mobile (May 23rd)
3) Visiting two very very special babies (early June) and simultaneously doing a solo halfway-across-the-country road trip!
4) Meeting some ladies I've been friends with for years but have never gotten to meet before (June)
5) My 11th anniversary of having started dating my husband (July)

Also dentist appointments, a couple weeks of camp for Riley, a 5K in which I'll be chased by zombies- you know, the usual.

I hope all you mothers had a spectacular mother's day!

One year older and wiser, too.

Today is my husband's 32nd birthday. He and I started dating 11 years ago, when he was 21 years old with Justin Timberlake curls and a bartending job and was busy contributing to the delinquency of minors because of his endless generosity (read: inability to say "no"). I won't go into the whole "this is how we met and fell in looooooooooooooove" thing because that should be talked about on anniversaries, not birthdays. Nor will I give you a detailed profile of who he is and what he smells like and why I hate his socks, because he is not a fan of people knowing a bunch about his life. He's a riddle cloaked in a mystery cloaked in tattered jeans and a thermal shirt, but ALAS- I have said too much already.

So now we'll recap.

Holidays happened since the last time I posted about anything even remotely entertaining. This is going to be the thread in which I talk about them. Those holidays were as follows:


-My thirtieth birthday (which ranks right after Christmas as far as birthday importance is concerned). What basically happened that day is I turned thirty and facebook slapped me about the face and shoulders with happy messages and people dumped hole-punches all over my cube at work. I have a picture, but I have since found out that we're not allowed to take pictures, here, so I will not post it out of FEAR.

-Valentines Day. I got the idea for Riley's valentines off of Pinterest and they were a huge hit. Here is a picture that may or may not be sideways because I am too lame to worry about it:

Also shown, one of my cutting boards. You now know a stupid amount about me.

-Mardi Gras. We did not celebrate this, I just wanted to let you know it happened in case you missed it.

-Daylight savings time. Which isn't a holiday, but don't you freaking hate it? We've honestly considered moving to some place in Arizona (I forget where) that doesn't acknowledge daylight savings time. That is how much it sucks. I am JUST now getting used to it.

-St. Patricks Day. I made green pancakes, put food coloring in the toilet, and made mint chocolate chip cookies.



That shit was good.

-Spring officially began. Which if you live in Virginia like I do, basically means you suffer through weeks and weeks in which the days alternate between 50 degrees and 80 degrees. Sometimes all in the same day.

-Easter! My kids were as spoiled as always. We didn't really do anything special besides hide eggs (THE EASTER BUNNY I MEAN) and spoil the kids. I thought about dropping some cadbury mini-eggs in the toilet and claiming the Easter Bunny pooped, but I assumed they'd have just sunk into out-of-sightness.




This is why Jesus came back.




This is only moments before she figured out this was good for bludgeoning.



I subsequentially forgot to put the eggs in the refrigerator and had to throw them all out.


-Apparently April 25th was administrative professionals day. I don't recall having gotten a card, so I will accept belated guilt gifts.

-Cinco de Mayo. I drank margaritas and made burritos and forced myself to eat chips and guacamole long after my appetite had been sated, just to fully appreciate the holiday that no one truly understands.

So, that brings us up to date. This coming Sunday will be mother's day and I am going to bring my mom some stuffed mushrooms.

My next post will update you on the NOT holidays. Which basically means I will overwhelm your computer with pictures! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

I'm like that really bad relative that never calls.

I'm also, for real, that really bad relative that never calls. You should be grateful you're not related to me.

Recently, someone asked me about my blog and after I did a small but no-less-awkward chair dance celebrating the fact that someone missed my blog I pleasantly explained that I basically either have it or I don't. I can't fake cute, I'm afraid. Well, I don't have to fake cute. I am always cute, it's just a matter of who finds me to be that way. Sometimes I am only cute to the devil and that's been pretty much my thing for a while. So I am sorry I neglected you, but rest assured my free time was spent doing amazing things.  Will I tell you what those things were? Sure.

1) I started writing a novel. Those who have known me for forever and then some probably rolled your eyes there and said "Yes, happy Tuesday", but this time I wrote a good bit. Like a hundred and a half of actual USEABLE material. That doesn't count the endless pages I threw out. And I am not done, oh no.

2) I turned thirty.

3) I moved offices.

4) I joined a Zombie Book Club.

5) I KEPT A PLANT ALIVE.

6) I lost someone that was close to me.

7) I begin planning a solo road trip halfway across the country.

8) Other crap. Seriously, this list could go on forever. Laundry was done, Aquariums were visited, swingsets were purchased- okay, just one- and you missed it all. I am sure you're very upset about this, but I promise I will try to make it up to you. Starting.................................... tomorrow. This post has gone too far into miscellaneousness to be made into anything good at this point. So instead, let it merely serve as a reminder as to why you should never, ever ask me to blog.

Oh, here's a picture of my kid peeking out from behind her daddy.

I hear she still grants forgiveness although I willingly forgot her.

So my blog contacted me last night- PIP, because that's it's name- and this concerned me for a couple different reasons. The first reason was that being contacted by my blog probably doesn't reflect well on my mental health, but the second reason and more important one was that MY BLOG WAS RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING IT SAID. What it said is that our relationship has grown stale and that we either need to take it to the next level or evaluate whether or not we really want to be together at all. It was a hard conversation to have, and I'm still not sure what I've decided, so let's move on to other things.

Christmas happened while I was gone. I'll summarize our personal experience by saying that Riley tried to stop after every. single. thing. he opened and wanted to play with it for forty minutes so we had to keep rushing him along to finish opening the five million things he had, and Zee blew off her presents completely in favor of discovering OLD toys laying around the room and sticking them in her mouth.

But what I really wanted to say about Christmas is that I've thought about it, and it's basically the equivalent of a weekend in Vegas. I've never personally been, but I've seen "The Hangover" and CSI so I know all about it. You know a trip to Vegas is coming up; you're amp'd. This is going to be the BEST TRIP EVER. You plan it and think about it and then the day finally comes and you go and spend a TON OF MONEY and GET SO DRUNK and then suddenly the trip's over and you're broke and hungover and have to return to your boring life and know that it will be a long time before you can go back to Vegas, so now you have nothing to look forward to. You try to get drunk on other weekends and make fun of your own around the house, but somehow macaroni rainbows with the kids and cleaning the change from under the couch cushions doesn't compare. That is the reason that I kinda hate Christmas. I have at least fifty pictures I took from Christmas morning but I'm not letting you see any cause I haven't pulled them off my camera yet.

The true meaning of Christmas.

In other news, I had to withdraw from school after receiving perfect grades in my first unit (which made me happy at first, and then just sad) because I found out that ye' good ol' state of Virginia doesn't recognize degrees from that school as being "valid". Ouch. On the plus side, I am waiting to finalize other arrangements that WILL be valid (and 10 times more taxing on my free time, which I guess is a bummer, but it's not like anyone but me suffers from that) so I am getting back on the bull.

In other, other news, I drove in snow. Those who know me on facebook and not on facebook, so everyone at this point, knows this already, but if you know my history with driving than you know this is a big deal for me. There are seasoned drivers that don't drive in snow, and I've only been driving since May. I not only drove in FALLING snow one day, I drove in FALLEN snow the next day. Now, did I at one point or another think "today is the day I am going to die"? Yes. But I think that almost every day (I wish I were joking). There's this one yellow and black striped sign on the road that I pass in the morning, and it's slightly warped probably from having been run into by a car or rabid animal. For some reason, when my headlights shine on it it glows RED like it's soaked with blood, and without fail my response is to think "This is where I am going to die". For the record, I haven't died yet, but if I do? It will probably be because I am too busy staring at that sign to make the sharp turn that it accompanies.

And now, without further ado, my baby in a box:

What's the return policy?

Hope you all had a happy holiday and don't see blood soaked signs indicating your demise!

Are you there, blog?

It's me, Margaret Amber.

So, some things! This was an exciting week. Zoey turned one. Here are some pictures.

Showing off her outfit. She's stylin'. Also, it was very warm in my house. I know it's December.



She really loved her balloons.

This is an awful picture, but I love it because it shows how enthusiastically she was swinging the balloon.



Zoey's favorite present was a sing-a-ma-jig. She can't get enough of that thing.

I made strawberry cupcakes ('cause they's pink) with vanilla frosting and sprinkles.

She tasted and...

She approved! Note this one was taken after she unceremoniously tossed the cupcake on the floor.

So yeah. That. I may have cried several times throughout the day. My womb hurts and it's terrorizing my brain.

In other news, I started school yesterday. Since it's online and geared towards people that don't have a crapton of time, it's only two courses per semester. Each week is called a "Unit" and includes a seminar, a required assignment, and discussion board interaction. I am happy to say that I am the biggest teacher's pet ever. I am already 90% done with Unit 1 in both courses (I have a seminar scheduled for Monday, and the last question of one assignment requires me to 'look back at the week', so I'm holding out a little longer, but other than that? Done) and have wrenched compliments out of both of my teachers for being thorough (ie, submitting a 560ish word response to a request for 250 words) and interacting wonderfully with my peers. One teacher commented that I definitely seem "eager". Ha! I told Russell yesterday that if this wasn't the internet, I would probably be beaten up after class and have my lunch money stolen.

Why couldn't I have been like this in high school? Obviously I've done a lot of maturing since then (have I?).  I am anxious to get out of this rut. If that means I have to tear this online college shit apart with my teeth, so be it.

Also, if you find it in you to send a special holiday wish out to the cosmos for me, could you do so? Just wish that I don't die before we find the funds to get work done to my car. I need brakes and tires and have for some time, but you know how the months tend to just speed by, and suddenly SURPRISE! It's December and snow's in the forecast and you're driving with a couple bald tires and brake pads that should've been replaced last spring. Maybe I should worry about my car before I worry about my kids' Christmas presents, but that's not going to happen. I am almost 100% sure that Riley would rather have the tool bench he keeps asking for than a mom with all of her limbs. I mean, really. Who needs all those limbs?

Finally- NEXT MONTH I TURN 30. Don't tell anyone I told you. I was thinking I was going to be really upset about it, but guess what? I started driving this year, and I'm back in school working towards a degree, and employed, and my son is being considered for the "gifted" program at school, and in a few weeks I will have been a "non-smoker" for two years. Life is good. Maybe I'm not a millionaire in the monetary sense, but I'll be damned if I'm going to spend another birthday feeling all "woe-is-me" about not being where I thought I was at this point in my life. Pat on the back, me. You're not as stupid as you thought you were.

The Baby Zee

Today, my baby girl turns 1. This post is about her.

My pregnancy with Zoey was a roller coaster. We were so happy to have conceived and I was so sure it was the girl we wanted, but morning sickness, sciatica, and gestational diabetes made it a rather uncomfortable and long pregnancy. She was also an incredibly strong and active baby. My mom commented at one point that she'd initially just thought I was a "wimp", but eventually saw that I was right- she never. stopped. moving. To say I was ready for her birth is an understatement.

Things didn't stop being hard after she joined us, however. Diagnosed with reflux, Zoey had trouble with keeping her liquid meals down and couldn't sleep flat on her back. In fact, she didn't seem to be able to sleep more than 20-30 minutes anywhere but in contact with one of us. Endless nights were spent downstairs on the couch. The intro to 'Dexter' still vividly brings back memories of being awake at 2, 3, 4 am with a fussing baby, watching episode after episode while the rest of the family slept. The couch became my home base through day and night, and I ended up with a pinched nerve in my back as a result. Zoey was determined to make whatever impression she could. My maternity leave was a blur, and I cried often, and constantly asked her "Why? Why, Zoey?" Returning to work, however, was even harder. I missed her with an absolute ferocity. She was no longer attached to me. It was like losing a limb.

Since then, she's grown exponentially in every manner. She never does anything half way. She attacks life with all of the passion and enthusiasm she's shown since she was able to bruise my insides. If she is not touching, tasting, smelling and speaking to every single thing she comes across, she is not happy.

She is a force of nature. She never stops moving, but she's always had the time to stop in the midst of her whirlwind attacks on life to give hugs. She doesn't do "gradual". One day, she took a few steps. The next day, she bolted across the room like a squirrel. One day, she pulled herself up on the bottom stair, the next day she climbed to the top.

I've often wanted to implore her to sloooooow down. She is quite probably my last baby. I know it would be pointless, though. She has a complete grasp of how quickly she's aging, and she cannot rest until she's accomplished every single thing she aspires to- which appears to be everything.

I can't help but be saddened by her first birthday. She's growing up, and she proves every day that she's going to be a fiercely independent child. I am also proud, though. There were times during her first year where she's intimidated me, and where I've honestly doubted my ability to mother this child.

But I think I'm going to be okay. If anything, I just need to learn from Zoey, who would be more than happy to teach me to just roll with the punches and charge full steam ahead towards whatever the future may hold.

I can't wait to see what the future holds for her. I love you, Zoey Jane. Happy first birthday. Keep on being you, the rest of the world be damned. Just like you've always been.

Hello, again, friend of a friend.

Let's not waste time on reintroductions. Suffice it to say if I'd forced myself to write, it would have been even worse than when I actually WANT to, so you should consider yourself fortunate that I instead decided to neglect you.
I'll get straight to the point. I know you're busy. I see the way you're looking at me expectantly, wondering if I will be offering you a gem or a pile of dung. It's probably a little of both.

I am shamed, this holiday season. Shamed because I committed a great parenting foul. I made a list of all the things I wanted to buy people for Christmas. I labeled it, in my anal retentive manner, with their names, and labeled the entire paper with the words "Christmas List" (hopefully not "Christmas Shopping List"? I dunno, I don't have it with me). I tucked it away safely. Then I untucked it to look at it again and proceeded to lay it carelessly on the table at my house. Fortunately, I did use a complex code of highlighter colors to indicate things that had been ordered already, and did not provide a key with which to break the code, because I apparently forgot that my son is capable of reading.

I was informed this morning over the phone by my mother that Riley had apparently thought it was hilarious that I was considering buying him pajamas, and showed her where I'd written it on the list. The Christmas Shopping List. The clearly labeled list, detailing in my obsessive manner, every single friggin' gift I intended to spend money on this holiday season.

In one foul swoop, he has taken my control of this situation away from me. He holds this valuable knowledge over my head. In my mind, he is the Godfather. He sits pompously behind a heavy table with his fat fingertips pressed against each other and his head cocked just slightly downward enough to shadow his eyes. I approach him, meek and prostrate; his careless mother. He knows he holds the power of Christmas in his hands. It is in his power to destroy my careful planning, and I have unintentionally granted him this power. Now I must appeal to him to keep this secret (perhaps by hiding a severed horse head in his sheets), or try to outwit him.

My success in the coming battle will hinge upon whether or not I labeled it a "shopping" list. If I didn't, perhaps the claim that the list was for Santa (followed by a casual suggestion that he add anything he sees missing before I send it off) will work.

If I did? If I did label it a shopping list?

Then perhaps my son will stop believing in Santa Claus at five. At which point, my only solace will be in teaching him to use his new found knowledge as a weapon against other children.

I found this by googling "Parent fail". It makes me feel a little better.

I was a crappy cheerleader and a crappier girl scout.

You guys want any cookie dough?

You don't have to actually make cookies out of it if you don't want to.

Commmeeee onnnn.

My kid's going to be the lame one that has to watch all the over-achievers claim their prizes. I've sold so little cookie dough. I've actually had to manipulate purchases out of people. For example:

Me: Cookie dough. How many tubs can I put you down for?
Innocent Coworker: I still have a couple in my freezer that I've never made from-
Me: What, like three? Round it out at a nice five?
Coworker: I don't actually bake them.
Me: Did you know my very smart son attends a school that consistently scores too low on standardized testing? Probably because they don't make enough money on cookie dough to afford school supplies.
Coworker: I really don't want it, though. Can I just donate money?
Me: Just buy a tub and give it to me afterwards. I eat food.
Coworker: Oh.... okay, then. What flavor do you want?

I am going to have so many tubs of cookie dough.

And that's my success story. But the kids at school aren't going to care about that when they point and laugh at Riley as he steps up to accept his.... let me consult the prize book.... "Scent"sable Pencil and Eraser.... and stands next to Joe Cookieseller with his flat screen tv. Stupid Joe, I hate that guy.

In other news, I enrolled in online classes and am working towards a degree in SOUL-LESSNESS. Seriously, that's what my degree will be for. It's spelled the same way as "Accounting" though. This doesn't mean I've given up on my awesome plans to somehow get paid just for breathing and sometimes passing gas. I will eventually still do that. Maybe when I'm 70 or something, if I haven't drained my IRA and if Social Security exists and is worth anything by then. I'll probably even pass a LOT of gas, then. But for now, I'm going to shoot for being an auditor or a CPA and try to make enough money to buy a Camaro and lots of MUTHA-EFFIN' TUBS OF COOKIE DOUGH.

Because although it may be cheaper to just buy a TV, in the end, I really like cookies.

The scariest thing is how much Trick or Treating SUCKS now.

Happy DAY-AFTER-HALLOWEEN! Did you get lots of candy? Did you? If you did, I'm beating you up and stealing it, cause my kid got CRAP. People just don't celebrate this greatest-holiday-of-all-holidays anymore. It's sad. When I was little and had to walk to school uphill both ways in the snow without shoes, we used to be set loose for HOURS with a pillowcase and would come home with enough booty to last until the following Halloween. Last night? Riley got maybe 8 ounces... Sad. It did, however, make me appreciate the FEW houses that were decorated, almost so much that I wanted to risk a restraining order and run up on their porches to hug them.

Anyway, people on facebook know this already, but it's worth repeating for non-facebook folks or anyone that missed it. I brought the kids home some little surprises yesterday. Zoey got this little guy:

I named him "Mr Boo" and she loves him. Who wouldn't? Cute as all-hell.

And I got Riley one of these:

The Spider version, that is. Couldn't find a picture. That's the valentines version.

I stuck a marshmallow pumpkin and a pumpkin pez dispenser in the spider's back. Riley, while attempting to eat his weight in pez, asked for suggestions on names for the spider. I thought I was being clever and cute when I suggested Mr. Leggington, Sir Manylegs and Spidey McManyfoots. He turned all of these down. Later, he named it "Tyler". Sometimes I think he quietly judges me and determines that I am weird and that he should fight against being like me at all.

Yesterday was also a Halloween Party at work, which meant that I finally had to succumb to the terrible peer pressure as a result of my boss announcing that I looked like the Sun Drop Girl. (You tube "Sundrop Drop it like it's hot" if you don't know what I'm talking about.) All of us in the office agree that I was robbed when I didn't win the costume contest.

Riley was King Julian from the Penguins of Madagaskar (and the movie of similar title):

And Zoey was a very unhappy bunny. Understandably so, since her fluffy white tail was the size and toughness of a tennis ball, and we meanly forced her to sit on it:

Going to be trying some new ideas next year to keep Halloween fun! Riley almost didn't want to go trick or treating this year and I need to stage an intervention to keep this awesomest of holidays from becoming his least favorite!

Go get me some candy.

Shambling Horrors BEHIND MY FACE!

I haven't felt like blogging lately. Actually, I guess it'd be more accurate to say that I haven't felt like doing much of anything. It seems my household is doomed to be sick for the rest of our lives. This morning, there is fresh pain in my throat and fresh congestion everywhere else in my upper body. I was late leaving the house because I kept pausing in the midst of getting ready for work and staring, glassy-eyed, at my gray pallor wondering whether or not I should just get back in bed. I think I may get out of here early. Got to drop some crap off at Riley's school for Halloween goings-on on Thursday.

So, this weekend, these things happened:

Riley watched 'The Labyrinth' while holding a pool noodle.

Big brother read to Little Sister as a lovely respite from all of the sibling rivalry.

Zoey was cute.

Sometimes they were both cute.

Last night we discovered that we probably have a shambling horror somewhere in our house. Let me add that Russell and I aren't the type to be influenced by scary movies, Halloween, etc. into thinking that things are bumping in the night. That being said, we were fast forwarding through some commercials last night, and in the relative silence, heard this popping, dragging, slurping type sound coming from the dark basement. I immediately went all mentally Lovecraft and envisioned something horrible, and Russell and I exchanged grave looks before he informed me that he'd heard the same thing the prior evening. (I keep accidentally typing 'hurt' instead of 'heard'. Lots of Freudian slips this morning). The cat was of course sitting creepily at the top of the stairs staring down into the basement, but his tail wasn't like a puff of black cotton candy affixed to his ass so I took that as a good sign.

Meaning we have a FRIENDLY shambling horror in our house.

Or maybe mice? Do they make sucking type noises?

You can read? So can I!!! And I type about it!

So I started a book review blog, and in order to avoid simply repeating here what I already said as greeting over there, I'll just refer you to it:

Black, White and Read All Over

It's also linked in my righthand margin, you'll notice. There's I think 9 entries already to catch up on the crap I've been listening to on audiobook lately. Read it if you wanna. If you don't wanna, don't tell me that cause it'll hurt my wee feelings.

Like a mental hospital and a REAL hospital combined!!!

Our recovery from sickness has been interrupted by additional sickness. I am going to lose my mind. I am not sure if it's worse to have everyone in the house sick at once, or to be the only WELL one that inevitably has to deal with all of the sickies. The "I am disgusted by your inability to cover your mouth while coughing" facial expression has become such a specialty of mine that I am worried my face might freeze that way. Of course, there's no end in sight to this persistent germ exchange, so it may as well be permanent anyway.

Despite what can only be defined as an everlasting plague (maybe it's our house? I just listened to HP Lovecraft's "The Shunned House" in the car on the way to work this morning. Could we simply have some malicious, supernatural force buried in the basement that's sucking the lifeforce out of us? Sorry for the spoiler, since you were probably planning on rushing out to read/listen to it now that you know I listened to it, right? How do I continue a sentence successfully after such a long and off-topic interjection? Let's try.) we did manage to do STUFF this weekend.

Saturday, I took Zoey with me to do a little fall/winter clothes shopping and spent waaaaaaaaay more money than I should have (You should've seen Russell's face! I liken his expression to one coming home to a surprise party, except all the guests are weilding axes! What fun!).

Zoey models her newly acquired bunny hat.

Then after lunch, I took Riley out to a craft store to look for a water-proof way to decorate our pumpkins. I don't like carving pumpkins, partially because of sheer impatience and need for instant gratification and partially because the pumpkins decay so quickly afterwards. Before you assume I am being a rotten mommy and stealing this joyous opportunity from Riley, you should know that he adamantly refuses to touch the innards of a pumpkin. In the past, we've tried painting them with the many old paints I have laying around, but the paint has washed off in the rain and left sad looking pumpkins sitting in a swirled brown pool on our porch.

There were a LOT of people in the store, which left me feeling somewhat rushed and anxious, so it was pretty much a craft fail. I ended up buying a large collection of different colored sharpies, some halloween confetti, and at Riley's insistence, some silly putty and letter stencils. It didn't turn out so badly, though! We hot-glued some confetti pieces strategically and went to town with the sharpies.

From left to right- Riley's, Zoey's, Mine, Russell's

On Sunday, we went to the park for a while after lunch. Russell and Zoey and I chilled on the blanket while Riley frantically made friends with everyone he came in contact with. The mood was dampened only by Zoey's inability to not leak viscous fluids from her nostrils. She simply hates having her nose wiped, so trying to clear her chubby facial flesh of snot traces is nearly impossible. There were several times where people turned and stared at us with these accusatory expressions as though we were torturing her when in truth we were just trying to make her less disgusting and sticky and more appealing to the baby-admiring masses. Finally, she was at the end of her rope with our diligence and her soured mood ultimately caused us to pack up and head home, but Riley still had fun.

Tomorrow is picture day at school, and this morning I have been having fun imagining what our well earned money is going to be buying. I know the photographer isn't going to do several sittings, and Riley's forced smile is nothing short of hilarious. Of course they make you order the pictures FIRST, so I keep envisioning a framed 8x10 of Riley scowling or quirking an eyebrow or with his eyes heavy-lidded as though he's under the influence. Surely, it will be a welcome addition to our madhouse.

Happy Monday!

Mr Magoo

Riley asked me tonight to write a story and he would do the illustrations, so I did, and he did, and here it is:

I don't know who that is on the cover, but it's not Magoo.

Once there was a fox named Mr Magoo. He had two socks and one red shoe.

See that big outline spanning both of his legs? That's his one red shoe. Apparently Riley thought my idea of only one foot being protected from the elements was laughable. He also laughs at traditional walking methods.

Mr Magoo was a fancy little fox. He liked having tea, in his shoe and his socks.

In direct opposition to my writing, you will notice that the illustrator demonstrates that Mr. Magoo does in fact prefer to remove his socks and shoes prior to enjoying his steaming mug of tea.

But one day when it was time for his tea, his doorbell rang- he thought "Who could that be?"

Thought it so hard, in fact, that his skull began to smoke from the effort. His shoe and socks took advantage of his distraction to get the hell outta dodge. As did the bulk of his tail.

It was Mrs. Bear and Mr. Bear at the door! Mr Magoo was so happy, but he had to make more. Tea, that is.

Shut up, Riley was rushing me.

In any case, it must have been a decent effort, because afterward there was this big award ceremony and Riley gave it an award.

Basically a Pulitzer.

Happy Monday!