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.

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!

Fevers and Towers and Pumpkins, oh my.

I am supposed to be helping Riley clean the playroom right now. There are two things wrong with this picture, and these are the two biggest reasons that I am blogging instead: 1) I had NOTHING to do with that mess- I never do- yet I always clean it. I don't care if that's part of being a parent, I don't feel like doing that right now. It's my weekend too- and 2) Riley's version of helping is a little skewed. For example, right now he is kicking off the cleaning by wandering around the room playing with everything he comes across and singing a song that he made up that consists of the word "Sorting" repeated over and over at different octaves.

This was a three day weekend, but I'll tell you right off the bat that I'VE BEEN CHEATED! Because the sickness that's been plaguing my household and dodging me finally lost the fight on Friday and I WON! I won a fever, a sore throat, muscle aches, a massive headache, the whole she-bang! It was like a lottery on opposite day. So I spent my bi-weekly off-Friday writhing on the couch, covered with goosebumps despite the thermostat being set to 75 and being wrapped in fleece, while my kids got away with murder because I lacked the energy it required to stop them from doing things they shouldn't. Luckily, my fever was gone by that evening, because I had promised Riley that I'd take he and Zoey on a picnic on Saturday.

And so I did! It was absolutely beautiful outside, so we packed up some stuff and went to Jim Barnett Park to eat lunch, which was immediately the furthest thing from Riley's mind.

What is so great now that he's started school is that his social walls are down. He's always been fairly outgoing, don't get me wrong, but he's never really been too confident in his ability to make friends. Now, he is. Okay, never mind. He's the same, I'm different because I'm not as worried about his ability to make friends. I admit it. Anyway, he takes off and collects names and digits and is never heard from again until he needs some apple juice or gets stuck in a tower.

He did get stuck in a tower. Zoey and I were chilling in the shade on a blanket and I hear Riley yelling. It's amazing how even when surrounded by 10,000 children, you can hone in on your kids voice- pick it right out from the other 40+ kids screaming "Mom!" simultaneously. I was able to trace his cries to the tower:

Seriously, what is up with the bar at the bottom of my pictures? Annoying.

I yelled back to Riley that if he needed to talk to me, he needed to come down to me and talk. Time passed. Zoey and I read a book, ate some grass that probably a dog had peed on, shared some goldfish crackers, and talked to admirers.

Then some little girl runs up and asks me if I'm "Rowley's Mom"? To which I reply "Uhmm, I guess." since I'm actually Riley's mom, not Rowley's, and I am not sure I want to take accountability for anyone else's child on accident. She then explains that she's been sent to deliver the message that my son is stuck in the tower and cannot get down. So Zoey and I leave our home base and head over to the tower, where I spend a good ten minutes convincing Riley it's okay to go down the huge slide and that I can't climb up there because I have the baby in my arms. I kept looking around to see which kids I'd need to kick in the shins for laughing at my son, but the other children were surprisingly empathetic and patient about it. Several tried to demonstrate how safe the slide was, or tried to suggest alternative methods of getting down. Finally, he came down the slide, and I made him come sit with Zee and I until he could calm down. Afterwards, he slid down at least five more times, and made that tower his bitch.

And then on the way out, he made out with the water fountain. I didn't realize it until I looked at the picture later.

A dog probably peed on that, too.

Today we went to get pumpkins. It wasn't a fun time. It was too hot, the food was expensive and awful, we had committed a huge parenting foul by forgetting the stroller and were doomed to pass Zoey back and forth, and the selection of pumpkins was fair at best. But Riley enjoyed going down the huge slide over and over:

Oh, and I almost forgot! On the way home, while I was taking a sip of my ridiculously expensive can of coke, something tried to enter my mouth from the coke can that was not soda. It was quite obviously a bug of significant mass, so I spit all my coke back into the can (and on my pants) and then acted like I was dying for a while, allowing Russell to poke fun at me. I assumed it was a stink bug, because we saw a trillion of them. When we got home I dumped the coke out on the driveway- IT WAS A BEE. I pointed at it and yelled "You wanna make fun of me now?" to Russell, 'cause he's scared to death of bees, but he mumbled something about how it probably was dead already and couldn't have stung me. Whatevs. He would've shat his pants if it'd been him.

So as another weekend comes to a close (Noooooooooooooooooo. So cheated! I want my Friday back!) I am happy to have spent some mostly quality time with my kids. I would do the trip to the park a million times over- maybe sans the tower incident- but now all I can do is go help my son "clean" the playroom.

Donna's Story

I know I am late sharing this, and I can't put my finger on why I haven't shared it earlier. There is a wonderful woman and mother that writes for the website chicagonow.com,  Mary Tyler Mom, whose daughter, Donna, underwent 31 months of treatment after being diagnosed with a brain tumor. As September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, she's written a new blog entry every day this month. Each entry represents a month of Donna's treatment. I was fortunate to have started following this early on. Though my heart is breaking now as it draws to a close and the inevitable is coming ever nearer, I've found so much strength and inspiration through reading about Donna and her family. October 1st will be the final entry about Donna's struggle with cancer, followed by a post on October 2nd containing resources about how we can help the fight against cancer.

If you are interested in following the story, you can do so beginning here: http://www.chicagonow.com/mary-tyler-mom/2011/08/gold-is-the-new-pink/. I won't lie and say that is hasn't been a heartbreaker, but it's also been a tremendous eye-opener and example of the strength we're capable of as human beings. I can't fathom being able to survive having made half of the difficult decisions this family has had to make.

I may need a little practice...

SO, I got my pictures back! You know, the ones I sent away? The two rolls of film?

Out of those two rolls, the following pictures were pretty much the only good ones, and I didn't even TAKE one of them. Enjoy.

Love how well you can see his eyes here. They're like sea glass.

This is Felix. He's got a gigantic web in front of my car. Russell took this.

So, good thing I also picked up four more rolls of film when I picked up the pictures, right? I need a LOT of practice.

There's a reason the word "Diet" contains the word "Die."

Doesn't 1200 calories seem like a very little amount of food? It does to me. Did you know that the beer I drink is 207 calories per bottle? So that's out. And those spicy oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I have all the ingredients for in my pantry? Yup, out too. So is practically everything else that is good. Okay, that's not fair. Laughing Cow Light Cheese wedges are pretty awesome. And I do always feel better after drinking copious amounts of water. But my dinner, for example. You'd think something like "Roasted Corn and Chicken Tostada" could potentially be healthy. It has corn! Useless corn! And lettuce! And beans! And somehow, almost 500 calories per serving. Wanna know why? Because of the tortilla. Not only is it evil in and of itself, but it's basted with approximately ONE TEASPOON of oil, which is basically the devil's sweat. Oh, and there's TWO TABLESPOONS of shredded cheddar on top, which is about the equivalent of eating straight lard. There was once a time where I could literally eat whatever I wanted. Age, you snotty bitch.

I still have no relevant pictures to offer you, with the exception of one, which I took on my phone's camera just to make facebook uploading easier. I took two rolls of film (Shall I link the definition or a picture for those that no longer remember what that is?) to Walgreens to have them developed this weekend. Did you know that most places no longer have the equipment to process film on-site? They had to send my shit out. They told me it would take around two weeks. TWO WEEKS!!!! By the time I get these pictures back, they will be entirely inappropriate to illustrate whatever nonsense I'm blogging about at that time. Sounds like I'm going to have to start pinching pennies for a digital version of the camera I've come to love.

Love this, cause it's all you get.

 Riley and I had Eye Doctor's appointments on Saturday. I was a little nervous for him. I didn't, and still don't, think he'd like wearing glasses. Judging, however, by what he's getting from his parents I assumed he'd at least eventually have to. I am absolutely useless without glasses or contacts, and though Russell's not nearly as awful, he's not well off either. He did well throughout the testing. I figured he'd have fun reading the letters on the eye chart, and I wasn't wrong there. The problem arose when it was my turn and Riley kept telling me what the letters were before I could get a chance to read them. I had to keep explaining that the nice lady needs to know what I'm able to see or the entire thing is pointless. In the end, he didn't end up needing glasses- this year. Sadly, his vision is not perfect even at five. He will likely need glasses sometime in the next few years. Hopefully by then he will have gotten over his weird aversion to things being near or on his ears. With any luck, he will not be given a hard time by his peers. As obsessed as he is with all things learning, the glasses aren't going to help him on the image front, and as much as I don't want him to care about that himself I can't keep myself from fretting about it on his behalf.

Riley at least has one friend now. Her name is Bailey, and his interest in her seems to be bordering on a frightening obsession. I hear about her constantly; how pretty she is, how cute her clothes are. Riley relayed to me precisely what her hair looks like (epic fail on the eye color though. He THINKS they're blue). He told me he cried on the bus on Friday because she sat with someone else and he thought she didn't want to be friends with him anymore. On our way to our appointments yesterday morning, "If you're happy and you know it" came on my Laurie Berkner Pandora station. After prompted to say "Hooray!" if you're beautiful, Riley informed me that had Bailey been present, she definitely would have to have said "Hooray!". Oh boy.

I had a very nice lunch with an old friend yesterday as well and she got to meet Zee for the first time. I expected Zoey to be her normal public personality- flash that big open-mouthed smile and do her best to wrap everyone around her finger, but she was quite stoic instead. She tolerated the lunch with a wary expression and leveled her gaze with appraisal at everyone in the restaurant as they complimented her. She did, however, find it in herself to toss her things on the floor every five seconds. What meal would be complete without six-thousand reps of what I'll call "Table crunches"- bending down to pick up Zoey's pacifier, cookie monster, blankie, sippy cup, etc. Towards the end, she even managed to steal my check card and hurl it under the table.

Today, as a whole, has been unremarkable besides my dieting woes and an unusually packed grocery store. I haven't forgotten that it's the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks, so to end this blog I'll touch on that topic a little.

I'd slept over at Russell's house on September 10th (sorry, Mom). We'd undoubtedly been up until the wee hours of the morning, probably drinking, since people were always coming and going from that house. One of Russell's friends burst into his room to wake us and exclaimed "WE'RE GOING TO WAR!" and I remember thinking "What the fuck is wrong with the people in this damned house?". We all gathered in the living room to watch the news, where the videos of the World Trade Center crashes were shown over, and over, and over again. There were several people there that didn't live there. These were drug users, heavy drinkers. Some of them were probably jobless, some maybe homeless. At that point, though, I know we all felt vulnerable and personally offended on our country's behalf. I was so naive then. I had no idea what this meant, and too small an understanding for the lives that were personally affected by the losses that came as a result of that day. I regret that, now. I want to say that on this day, and every day, I am so sorry to those who suffered the loss of a loved one as a result of the terrorist attacks, whether it be directly or through our nation's efforts that followed.

I don't consider myself a hugely political person. I tend to shy away from political conversation, because frankly it depresses and agitates me. In remembering the events of September 11th, 2001 though, I can't help but reflect on the way it affected us as a nation in addition to how it affected the families and friends of those who gave their lives, their health or their service. There are many measures and standards that have been put into place since that day that I find to be completely repugnant. Although I am not always happy about the decisions made for and/or by our country or its leaders,  I am generally still proud to live here. I hope that if there's one thing that we can all remember, besides those who lost their lives and the families that remain behind, it's that we don't need to wait until something extraordinarily terrible happens to be united. We always have that choice. My hope is that another ten years from now, we will be able to reflect on the ways September 11th changed our nation positively.

Beer and Plastic Sports

Let me preface this all by saying that I recently went in search of, and uncovered, an old Canon Rebel EOS G camera that I bought for Russell back in the day before digital cameras became the "thing" (btw, I'm old). It's a beautiful little camera that has somehow lived through my husband's neglect and circumstantial abuse in immaculate condition- after I cleaned off all of the laundry detergent that had slowly dripped onto it while it lay forgotten in the laundry room for the past several years. It takes awesome pictures. What this means is that I will someday have awesome pictures to post! It also means that right NOW, I have a couple rolls of film sitting, forgotten, in my purse and no recent pictures to insert in this blog entry. You'll have to live with what you get. Someday, though? What you get will be awesome pictures. I may be jumping the gun, I am an idiot as far as photography.

This is one of my favorite pictures. Sometimes I do all right.

Anyway, THREE DAY WEEKEND! Was it really three days? It felt so short.

Saturday, I seemed to be getting sick, and spent most of the day lazing around and blowing off all of the productive plans I'd made in favor of grumbling and feeling run down. Russell worked, and when he came home, he had a little pink bag from Victoria's Secret with some lovely lingerie for me! It wasn't racy stuff, just basics that I hadn't afforded myself in some time now.  The biggest reason I hadn't is that I am trying to lose some sizes right now. Luckily, he bought everything for the size I was 5 years ago, so I have something to aspire to! In all honesty, though, it was a sweet gesture and I greatly appreciate it. I will appreciate it even more once I can wear it : ). At least it's flattering that he apparently sees me as much smaller than I actually am.

Sunday, I was suddenly feeling 100% again. Shortest sickness ever. I went to Target and dropped a painful amount of money on formula and diapers and then decided to just rip off the bandaid and did our grocery shopping afterwards. The cashier carded me for the white wine I was buying for french onion soup, and I thanked her because I'm entering the OMGTHIRTYISCOMING stage. She then proceeded to turn me every color of red and puce by going on and on about how in person, I look half the age that I do in my driver's license photo and I've got such a great complexion (if you think tomatoes are attractive?) blah blah blah. For a second, I had to wonder if she was somehow getting commission on my groceries and if she was trying to get me to spend more.

Later that evening, after both of our kids napped (!!!! I know! But they keep staggering them so we actually only get an hour or so of peace) we packed up and went to Outback Steakhouse for filet. We made the mistake of being talked into wood-fire ribeyes, though, and both ended up somewhat disappointed. Zoey spent the hour dropping things on the floor over and over (and. over.) again and charming all the waitresses into stopping and picking them up (and. over.). Riley couldn't even be persuaded into eating by the promise of ice cream. When we got home, despite being stupidly full, we took our beer outside into the humidity and heat to play whiffle ball with Riley. That was the highlight of my weekend. Despite being bloated with beer and red meat, and covered with an instant mist of sweat, Russell and I had so much fun playing in our yard. Riley and Zoey mostly sat around and watched us act like overgrown, clumsy children. It reminded me of when my dad and brothers and I would gather outside for an impromptu game of "baseball", which was always one of my favorite things to do. We stayed outside until we realized it was time for Zoey to go to bed, and then filtered in with smiles on our faces.

Kinda what I'm talking about. 'Cept no pool or wine or bathing suits.

The rest of the weekend was stuffed full of productivity. I barely sat down at all yesterday, but my material life is better for it. It is starting to look like we actually LIVE in our house now, instead of gypsy wanderers passing through with labeled cardboard boxes instead of wagons. One thing that seemed to be the soundtrack of the weekend was BBC's "Top Gear", a car show- oh, but it's not JUST a car show. I initially dismissed it as such, but once I watched an episode, I was hooked. Those guys are freaking HILARIOUS!!!! The downside is that I think I honestly have the potential to become a car snob if I allow myself to get too into it.

Before I leave you, since I'm on the topic of cars, can I make a request to the driving world at large? I have been officially driving on my own for exactly 3 months and two weeks now, and that makes me an expert. I know that the gas pedal makes the car 'Go'. You may laugh, but I am 98% sure that at least half the population doesn't know that.

Quit riding your brakes. It is the opposite of 'Go'ing, which defeats the purpose of being in a car. Try the OTHER pedal. My commute thanks you.

LONGEST WEEK EVER!

Today is TFGIF. Guess what that first 'F' stands for.

I'm serious, this was a long week. Maybe it's the fact that my work week started on Sunday? I dunno, but I am OVER THE MOON with happiness that today is Friday. I even was dumb a lot this morning and two minutes late to work and it hasn't dampened my mood. Two other factors that make today fantastic:

1) I forgot to pack diapers in the diaper bag for my mom's house last night, so I snuck into Zoey's room this morning and SHE WAS AWAKE! Bad for Russell, since he inevitably had to get up 45 minutes before necessary in order to feed her (UPDATE: I just got off the phone with him, she let him sleep until 6:30), but it meant that I got to pick her up and twirl her around and shower her with kisses before I left.

2) I stopped at Starbucks before I got dumb and made myself late. I am enjoying the lukewarm dregs of a Caramel Macchiato right this very moment. Actually, they're really not that warm at all, and I am not enjoying them exactly.... They're kinda gross, but Starbucks is expensive so I feel compelled to finish.

Last night was Back to School night for Riley, and I went while Russell stayed home with the kids (which pissed me off. I was told no kids, but there were other kids there). Before the evening officially kicked off, I had the opportunity to speak with Mrs. W. Remember when I had mentioned here that she'd said something about Riley having finished something for her? I assumed it had something to do with the bus, but last night I got the full story. Apparently during the teacher's time with the students on Meet the Teachers day, Mrs. Weigel had started reading the children a book, but was interrupted by a visitor. She asked the kids to hold on a moment and got up to speak to the person waiting for her. When she returned a few moments later, Riley had gotten up and resumed the book reading, and the rest of the class was gathered and listening quietly. He'd gone through three pages while she was up.

My knee-jerk reaction was pride, followed by the fear that maybe she found this annoying rather than charming. I voiced my concerns, and she assured me that she will not let Riley commandeer the classroom and that she adores him. She of course could be lying, but I hope not.

When I got home last night, determined to not somehow botch this great opportunity I have to foster this eager child's love of learning, I made a chart of the different coins and wrote next to them their name, their amount, and what it looked like when written numerically- Quarter, 25 cents, $0.25- and happily went over it all with him. I then excitedly asked him "So if I asked you to give me two coins that equal fifteen cents, what could you give me?" and he boredly mumbled, "I dunno, a penny and a quarter" and looked about the room for something, anything, to distract him from me. Maybe he'd reached his capacity for the day, or maybe he thought he could pay me a bit more to shut me the hell up.




Zoey appears to be amused by Riley's nosepicking.

 Maybe, just maybe, I should lay the heck off and just let him enjoy kindergarten? I think I'll just hang the chart on his bedroom wall in case he's interested. Hopefully he won't just be interested in peeling off the coins and making letters out of them.

Happy FRIDAY!!!!

I can't think of a title for this.

Feeling a little down today. One of those days where the suspicion that my kids would be better off with another mom keeps quietly testing the walls of my consciousness for a weakness.

Due to a change in my schedule, I now work nine hour days four days a week- nine hours straight, mind you, I don't take a break for lunch. I generally leave around 5:40 am, arrive home between 5:00 and 5:30 pm. Recently, Russell's employer let someone go and subsequently has stuck Russell in a position that requires him to work until 6:00 Tuesdays through Thursdays. His drive home is anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour, so he generally doesn't get home until around 7:00.

Today I worked a nine hour day, came home to two sick kids, and proceeded to do the following:
Put on 'Rio' for Riley
Empty the dish drainer
Feed Zoey dinner
Put Zoey in her walker (The next several steps are done with the walker banging repeatedly into my ankles)
Make Riley dinner because he doesn't like what Russell and I are having
Make my and Russell's dinner (steamed brocolli and carrots and broiled tilapia)
Harp at Riley to eat his dinner
Eat my own dinner
Try to rinse the dishes so food doesn't get crusty
Turn on Johnny Test for Riley and give Zoey a bath
Attempt to put Zoey to bed (fail)
Take off my heels
Put Zoey to bed
Make a pot of coffee

Courtesy of Riley, who knows what's up.

Russell then arrived home, and I slunk off to take a shower while Riley went downstairs to play the Sims and Russell reheated his dinner.

All of my deep thinking is done in the 15-20 minutes it takes me to shower. I spend hours in the car every day, but that's mostly reserved for feeling awesome and singing at the top of my lungs. It stands to reason that it was while in the shower, then, that it occurred to me that the TV spent more time with my son today than either of his parents did, and I cried. I cried because that's fucking sad, and I cried because I don't know what to do about it. It's easy to say "Quit your job and stay at home with your kids like you want to more than anything, anyway", but the fact of the matter is that we need my job. We don't need in the way that if we didn't have it, we'd have to go without cable TV and any extra-curricular activities- though that's true enough. We need it in the way that if we didn't have it, we'd have to go without a house, and food, and insurance.

I'd like to think the time I spend with my kids is quality time, and that it makes up for lack of quantity. For instance, I put Zoey to bed every night. Russell knows this. It is a rare occasion for me to ask him to do it. I love sitting in there and giving her her last bottle and rocking her to sleep, even though it only lasts a few lullabies. For those few lullabies, this rapidly growing, independent, bulldog of a child is just a sweet little sleepy baby with her fingers loosely curled around mine and her long eyelashes all fanned out over her fat cheeks. I would stay in there for hours if I didn't have a million other things to do.

So big.

My biggest fear is that, in the same short amount of time that it took for Riley to be five, both of my kids are going to be grown and leaving home. I am worried that they're going to look back and remember their childhoods as being full of tv shows and toys and computer games, and only a handful of cameo appearances by their busy parents.

Since they've been born, I've tried to keep respective journals for both of them. My mom did it for me when I was a baby and it's one of the coolest things I've got from my childhood. Unfortunately, I am so caught up with just trying to milk the short time I have with them for all its worth that I haven't been great at keeping up with it. I really need to try harder, and I'm going to work on that over the next week or so, and hopefully never stop. That way, even if they don't necessarily remember how deeply and wholly I loved them, they'll have the proof.

That was a bit depressing, huh?

Let's end this on a funny note, shall we? Zoey, while crawling around on the kitchen floor this evening, spit up on said floor AND THEN LEANED DOWN AND ATTEMPTED TO EAT IT. Kids are gross.

And the Earth Rejoiced...

It's been a busy couple of days. I haven't had two minutes to myself to even go to the bathroom without the company of a minor.

"But Amber," you may say, "Didn't your son start school yesterday? Surely that afforded you a break."

You'd think. Except Riley starting school meant that his little sister had to conveniently decide that she was going to prove her independence as well- from napping. I think she's teething again, because she's also refusing bottles. What this all boils down to is a hungry, tired, crabby baby that wants to pull herself up on everything and then scream because she doesn't know how to get down without falling.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

I am kinda a big deal. I got an award on Tuesday. Myself and a handful of other employees were summoned into a top secret meeting with one of the department higher-ups, on the sixth floor no less, and awarded for some extra hard work we'd done recently when threatened with the government funding ceiling. We were called up in front of the room full of people, embarrassed, and handed a box (which contained a silver plated, engraved, star-shaped paperweight) and a certificate in a nice embossed folder. We then slunk back to our seats beside the gigantic windows and watched as the meeting progressed.

But then the earth decided to applaud us for our hard work.

It started with the ceiling rumbling. We looked up at it and considered it, but ultimately brushed it off. Then the building seemed to sway, and the windows rattled, and the blinds started shaking, at which point we all leaped from our chairs beside the windows and stared in wide-eyed astonishment. Was this an earthquake? There were several people from California in the room, and they stayed seated and looked utterly unimpressed, but I was sick to my stomach with shock. In the short time that it lasted, my dominating thought was "what if it just keeps intensifying until this building crumbles and I never see my kids again?" But then it was over and my fear was replaced by excitement. MY FIRST EARTHQUAKE! Maybe it doesn't seem so impressive to YOU, but I live in Virginia, and have only been familiar with earthquakes via the news. Our building was evacuated so facilities could check for pipes leaking, etc. and then we were let back in, and the afternoon was pretty much shot. Everyone that stayed just talked about the earthquake and surfed the internet looking for information about it.

A friend posted this on facebook and it cracked me the hell up:

Maybe we're wimps, California, but I'm willing to bet you'd freak out about snow.

Yesterday was Riley's first day of school. Our county does half-day kindergarten and Riley is in PM. Therefore, the morning went a little something like this:

8:30 am
Riley: Is it time yet?
Me: No. Three and a half hours left.

8:40 am
Riley: How about now? Is it time? How much time has gone by?
Me: Only ten minutes.
Riley: Well, how long is that? How much time is left?
Me: I will tell you every hour, okay?

8:55 am
Riley: Has an hour passed?


Needless to say, the hours passed very slowly for all of us. I can't fault him for being excited, though. I was too. I had his lunch packed at 7:30 am. He was dressed and in his shoes by 9:30.

Russell arrived home from work in time to come with us to drop Riley off at school. Riley tried to not even say goodbye or give us hugs. When the teacher came to walk the kids back to the classroom, he simply took off running. I had to call him back.

I am happy to report that I did not cry. Though I will admit that I worried, a LOT. I also immediately drove all around town doing stuff that would otherwise be peppered with complaints from my five year old- went to the grocery store, got gas, went to Starbucks, drove to my mom's house to drop something off. I stopped by Toys R Us and got Riley a globe to congratulate him on his first day of school (he's wanted one for a while).

When the bus dropped him off (40 minutes late) I asked him how it went and he said it was fun. He chose to not give me any more information (except a tiny tidbit later about having music class and playing the bongos). We then started what I hope will be a new tradition, and picked a place on his globe and then researched that place and recorded facts about it. Yesterday it was the Indian Ocean (which is the 3rd largest oceanic division, accounts for 20% of the earth's water surface and is the warmest of the Oceans) and today we're going to do Egypt. We need to work on his ability to read the globe, though. Yesterday he insisted several times that we should focus on "North". North what? Your guess is as good as mine.

It's hard to curse around a child that knows what you're spelling.

I can't remember any of this past weekend. I wish I could say it's because I partied and got super-college-frat-party-drunk, but I think it's because we didn't do anything note worthy. Wait, part of it's coming back to me now.... We went to Target and bought a dish drainer.... and another baby gate.... and a new welcome mat.

Better left unsaid, right? I know, the glamor of my life is unbearable to you common folk. I shouldn't have been so insensitive just then.

Yesterday was "Meet the Teachers" day at Riley's elementary school. I left work at 11 to go pick him up (I had to eat in the car! New milestone! I LIVED!!). When we got to the school, it was PACKED WITH KIDS. They were sticky and dirty and I felt like the construction paper lined walls were closing in on me. That place smells like my childhood. Walking in there is like a slap in the face of memories. I had to go into the main office to ask a question about the bus routes, and the ladies of course all remembered Riley. Especially when he proudly read them the drawer labels, all of their names off of their desks, the sign behind one of them, and the people's names from the 'sign in' sheet. After several long, tense minutes in the packed foyer (Maybe most people aren't tense? But SO MANY KIDS!!!!) they let us back. I hadn't received a letter telling me who Riley's teacher was (got it yesterday when we got home, of course...) so I was anticipating lists being posted outside the classrooms. Nope. So I had to wander in to each of them (which were all notably marked 'PEANUT FREE ZONE', which is going to suck for my PB&J loving child) and ask around like a dumb noob.

When we finally found his teacher's room- Her name is Mrs. Weigel, but she is kindly allowing the kids to call her Mrs. W.- Riley immediately went into his version of coronary arrest. Here is his heaven, this classroom papered with letters and numbers. Immediately he attempted to rip them all down and love them, but I stopped him. As I filled out paperwork and he stealthily tried to remove letter magnets from the chalkboard (meanwhile, the other kids are playing with each other), Mrs. W found her way over and made the mistake of striking up a conversation about letters, at which point she wasn't able to leave to talk to any of the other children because Riley would not stop talking for anything. When she finally found the opportunity to introduce herself to the room, Riley anxiously waited until she finished and then proclaimed "YOU ARE THE BEST TEACHER!" which got a chuckle from the parents. The parents were asked to head to the cafeteria so the teacher could get to know the students, and I watched as parents tried to separate themselves from their tearful children.

"Riley," I said, "I have to leave you here now and go somewhere else with the other moms and dads"
"Cool, bye," Riley said dismissively as he spelled 'School' with foam letters. Well. That's my kid for you.

While the parents were introduced to the staff members, the children got the opportunity to learn about bus safety and ride the school bus. At the end of the hour, we were allowed to go get our child off of the bus. Mrs. W, with a big smile that might have been strained and fake, informed me that she'd started reading something (the posted rules, I think?) on the bus and that Riley had "finished them" for her.

I get the feeling that everyone is going to know my son and me by the end of this school year. I am terrified.

Later that afternoon, Riley asked to play outside with his truck. I stared at him for 45 seconds straight in amazed silence, thinking if I breathed or blinked it would disappear, like a mirage. This is the child that would sit on the computer for 6 hours straight if we let him, and whose version of playing with legos is making the alphabet out of them. I may have yelled "YES" accidentally, in my excitement, and shoved him outside.

Every so often, the stars will align perfectly, and I will do something that makes me feel like a cool mom. Such an occasion took place yesterday, when I was preparing to butterfly chicken breasts for the picatta I was making for dinner, and blew it off to play with sidewalk chalk instead. It was beautiful outside, and I was so happy to fully appreciate the last of summer with my kids. Of course, the first thing Riley did was start drawing numbers and letters- but hey, we were outside! That's at least an improvement!




I drew the sun and the clouds, and a heart, and Riley gave them all faces.



Zoey focused on throwing her pacifier repeatedly on the ground as a way, presumably, to taste the asphalt.

Riley wants to make sure you know your colors.

The artist at work.

(Not pictured: Me in sunglasses, an oversized Samuel Adams t-shirt, leggings and bare feet. Sorry for your loss there.)

Is this why some animals eat their young?

My son is a handful. He's a peculiar, fascinating child that keeps me on my toes, always. Sometimes I wonder if he was sent to me to teach me more about patience, or to shove it back in my face that I thought I had it all together for a little while when he was merely a tubby lump of baby flesh.

Recently, he's gifted me with several grandkids. Before you ponder how the mother of a five-year old finds herself in that situation, I should tell you that these grandkids are numbers that Riley assembled from legos. I believe I am the proud grandmother to multi-colored 1-5. 1 appears to be Riley's favorite. I should have taught him it's not nice to play favorites. 1 goes everywhere with him. It's a matter of concern that these are crappy legos, so 1 occasionally loses a brightly colored foot or a piece of his head, sending his doting father into a rampage.

This is how he rebels when I request a smile.

Riley has been trying to bring his children to visit their great-grandmother during the day when he's at her house. I've unfortunately had to forbid it after it became too hard to wrangle their body parts up for the commute home in the afternoon. But he'll find a way. For as long as we've been transporting Riley to and from Grandma's house, we've been finding things in his backpack, pockets, stashed in the car, etc. that he's attempted to smuggle back and forth.

Last night, as he happily created his "21 Hoppy Place Family" on The Sims (21 indicating that they are, in fact, the 21st family he's made with the name 'Hoppy Place'. There is an entire neighborhood filled with Hoppy Places. Inbreeding. Also, probably 60% of them are named 'Joe'), I realized it was bedtime, and informed him. He was understandably angry- who likes to be torn away from starving simulated families to death?- and as he stormed through the playroom towards the stairs, told me "I am going to take some of these number magnets upstairs." I told him no- we had to remove toys from his bedroom because he hordes them in his bed and ends up sleeping on piles of plastic and metal. He raged against me, and I continued up the stairs and talked to Russell briefly. I glanced over my shoulder to the playroom and noticed that he had formed his beloved blankie into a makeshift satchel, and was smuggling number magnets into it. I watched in silence for several moments and then cleared my throat and said "Sneaky".

Getting caught obviously hadn't entered his mind, and caused a tempermental explosion. He threw the magnets and stomped past me, stopping only to punch my hip, and up the stairs.

Is this the face of someone that may need an exorcist?

I'd be lying if I said that I haven't evaluated his actions a million times in my head, trying to figure out what it says about me as a parent and what it is I'm doing wrong.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm not doing anything wrong. He's got an absolutely explosive temper. He's as sly as a fox, and headstrong, and argumentative. He doesn't like to be told what to do. He thinks he's as smart as an adult and will challenge everything we say, and constantly demand to know where we're coming from when we ask him to do something. Maybe these are things that frustrate me when I am attempting to have a smoothly running home, or embarrass me when I compare him to better behaved children, but the fact is that they're not BAD things. He's not a little robot, and for every undesirable response we get from him, he makes up for it with something hilarious or tear-jerking. He writes us little notes- so many that I can't even keep them all- about how much he loves us. He tells us regularly that we're the best parents in the world. He treats his make-believe children with such tenderness and care, reading them books and stealing Zoey's toys to give to them. He constantly compliments us- tells me my dinners are "the best" and tells Russell that he's doing a "great job" filling the pool or mowing the lawn. These are the things that are important. He may not always say 'please' or 'thank you'. He may speak what's on his mind with complete unchecked abandon, but his ability to tap in and express what he's feeling, good or bad, is admirable. It's watching him lovingly assuring his lego children that he'll always take care of them that lets me know I've done something right. We learn how to parent from our own parents, after all.

Thanks Mom : )

Is this what normal people feel like the morning after?

Hi. Did you miss me? What do you mean you didn't notice I was gone? I took the whole three-day weekend OFF from the internet. Well, with the exception of hours of research I did trying to figure out why my home computer keeps crashing. This is a big deal. I mean my break from the internet, though my computer crashing is a close second. You see, if it weren't for the internet, I probably wouldn't have friends. I am really bad at keeping in touch, but I'll be damned if Facebook doesn't make it a crapton easier. Since it's obvious that you've all (I mean you, and you. Thanks for reading) missed me terribly, let me entertain you with a summary of my weekend.

Friday, I finally hauled Riley in to register him for Kindergarten. Zoey, too, but she only wishes that she were being signed up for an opportunity to get away from me. For those who haven't met my son, it is an understatement to say he's not shy. He's also not even the slightest bit intimidated by adults. We walked into the school's office (cute school! The sidewalks are all decorated with illustrations of the school's values, Riley and I had fun on our walk up to the door) and Riley immediately steamrolls those sweet, unsuspecting personnel. He walks in, past the front desk, back into an area that I'm sure is typically reserved for staff, and starts questioning a lady there about what she's doing on her computer. She thought it was hilarious, thankfully. I was a little worried he was going to be banned before I'd even gotten him registered. She offered him a job as her personal assistant, and I practically had to beg him to come out and sit beside me while I filled out forms. I talked him into playing with my phone instead (and found out later he'd started a game of Words with Friends with Russell). Zoey started chanting (ehhhhhhh-UH! ehhhhhhhh-UH!) in a tone that grew progressively louder, until everyone in the office was cracking up and my face was burning. Riley then impressed the ladies by loudly reading everything on the bulletin board in the office for them as I tried to drag him out the door. I get the feeling they might remember him.

It was absolutely lovely outside that afternoon, so the kids and I went out into the backyard to play. Zoey and I set up camp under a tree while Riley played with his "Stomp Rockets" that he'd gotten from Grandma Crossley for his birthday.



You put the styrofoam rocket on the tube and then stomp on that pink thing.

Or, if you're Zee, you eat grass.

I was fortunate enough to capture this heartwarming action shot.

Saturday, we went grocery shopping, then school shopping. Riley had fun picking out a lunch box and backpack, and I even let him help pick out his clothes. He doesn't have bad taste, for a five year old.

Sunday, Russell smoked a chicken and some baby back ribs, and I drank some beer. I think- THINK- I might have my first hangover ever this morning. I've got one of those headaches that saps all your strength. I wasn't even able to get the deadbolt to lock on the door when I left the house, and I had to cut open the package my breakfast was in even though it's perforated for tearing. Pretty lame.

Seriousness coming-

All those things having been said, my heart is heavy today, and probably will be throughout the week. I am remembering three baby boys that left this world far, far too soon, and am so heartbroken for their families. Please take the time to appreciate your families a little extra today, and if you pray, try to remember to ask for peace for those who have holes in their hearts that can never be filled. All my love to those who have felt the pain of losing a child, particularly to the Cortez and Rivers families this week. My thoughts are with you and your sweet baby boys.

Happy End-of-the-work-week-Thursday! Oh, this isn't the end of your work week? Sucks to be you.

Yea for three day weekends! Knowing that I don't have to drag my ass in here tomorrow almost makes all the 9-hour days worth it. Maybe you don't think 9-hour days are such a big deal, but my total daily commute is approximately 105 miles, so it's actually almost a 12-hour work day depending on traffic (or would be if I didn't enjoy my commute so much. It's the only alone time I have). The couple hours I have with the kids when I get home are actually more exhausting than my entire work day. From the second we walk in the door it's this explosion of things that need to be done, and mouths to force food into. Yesterday, Russell didn't get home until 8:40ish, so I was single-momming it all night with the kids.



Zoey tries to escape from the reality that is her life, but finds herself unable to break the barriers I've placed.

 This, sadly, resulted in french toast for dinner. Even that was potentially a parent fail. Smarty-mom didn't take the cat food and water off of the floor, so Zee immediately up-ended the water bowl while I basically cooked glorified toast. This may have been the fifth time. Does that disqualify me for mom of the year? Also, if she ate cat food? Is that a problem?


The poster child for neglect, Zoey plays with those ugly curtains, for which I'm not responsible.

It was Russell's bath night, which only makes sense, being that he wasn't going to be home in time to do it. So I took care of baths. On the bright side, this allowed Riley an opportunity to continue the saga we've been composing out of foam bath letters. I think it's about a fly and his tendency to throw lavish parties. The first book was called "Flys Farty Party" (I wish I could say that Riley came up with that name, but it was all me). The second was called "Thanks for the party Fly" (they don't make foam bath punctuation). Last night, as I got Zoey ready for bed, Riley continued the series on his own:



Apparently Fly's back at it.

 You read it here, folks. Party over at my place- if you don't mind flies.