Hello from the great beyond (otherwise known as my computer room.)

I'm sitting here writing this because I am sick. I am too sick to read a book - even the large print one I have from the library. (Which, I have large print not because I'm sight-impaired, but because that's the only copy they had of a series of books I wanted to read.) I am also too sick to lie down on the couch because if I lie down I may never ever get back up and I have to go pick up my daughter at school soon. I can't leave her sitting there all alone. I hear it's bad for her psyche to forget about her.

My husband is upstairs lying down because he, too, is sick. But he's the kind of sick that you want to avoid at all costs. He's horribly, horribly sick. (I'm just feeling a little under the weather compared to him.)

My son is in the living room watching Spongebob because he was too sick to go to school this morning. Although, as the day has progressed, I'm thinking I could have just brought him in maybe an hour late and he would have done just fine. But oh well... hindsight... you know.

So... SICK... and less stressed than before. Maybe that has something to do with the being sick, but I think it has more to do with me just saying to myself, stop being such a pansy, make up your mind and just go with it already! Which, I seem to have said to myself, and myself has resigned itself to listening to myself. Or something like that. So... Grin And Bare It - Now with less pansy and more sick. I think it makes a wonderful slogan.

Hiatus.

I think I'm going to take a break this week and not write here. I'll maybe post a little music...or something. Probably more towards the or something. I'm just a little stressed right now and having trouble focusing on anything. You know, like when your mind is on overdrive? You've got to slow it down and focus. You know?

Don't worry about us here though, we're doing fine. In fact, I'm not sure why I'm so stressed. It's like an over-reaction. Some things have been hard (see: babysitting difficult child) and some things have been going really well. So well, in fact, that I think I'm stressed that it will stop going so well. It's that old feeling of things are going too well, and we can't keep on going along that way because then that would be too good. So I'm basically sitting here stressed about what might happen and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yeah. That's not good for the mind (or soul.)

So I'm taking a break. From just about everything. See you soon!

You can thank me later.

Here's what's on the nightly playlist at my house (because you were wondering, weren't you?):


My daughter loves this song. It makes me want to scratch my eyes out and go completely deaf. But, you know, that's just a matter of opinion.


My son loves this song. He also thinks the video is cool. His taste in music is a little more along the lines of mine. So at least it's not all Fergalicious around here.


To give credit where credit is due, my daughter also likes the Move Along song. And to admit something I hate to admit, my son likes the Fergalicious song. So it's touch and go here on the music front.

D-to the E-to the L-I-C-I-O-U-S, D-to the E-to the L-I-C-I-O-U-S...

Hurt-y.

This morning I woke up with a headache. A very hurt-y, very irritating headache. And as I always think with all my headaches, I thought it would go away with a cup of coffee and a little food. So I didn't take any ibuprofen.

Well, folks, as you can guess, my headache is now a full blown migraine. Complete with ache behind my eye, light sensitivity, and a weird dizzy-ish feeling. Yippee!

You would think that a woman who is prone to get migraines (especially during times of stress) would recognize the signs and kill the headache before it progressed. You would think that, but it's not what seems to happen around here.

There's a lesson here somewhere... if only my head didn't hurt so bad I would probably be able to see it...


(Oh, and that sound you're hearing is my husband sighing because there's always something wrong with you, woman. And if eye rolling had a sound you'd be hearing that too.)

Hello, conundrum. Meet your new best friend.

If you've been reading here a while, you know that I babysit kids for a living. Two of them. A three year old and a one year old. And I've had a few problems along the way. One of those problems is the behavior of the oldest child. And wouldn't you know, I'm having trouble again.

This boy is so very intelligent, so very nice, and so very wonderful when he's on his own. Unfortunately, when you mix in other children, he doesn't get the undivided attention he craves and he misbehaves. Which, really, every child suffers from that occasionally. This child, however, goes overboard. And I'll leave it at that because, hi there, Internet! I tell you way more than I should!

Sometimes I feel like I'm not providing what this child needs. I'm not mistreating him in any way. But I don't seem to be getting through to him after a year of caring for him. We're still having the same issues, over and over again. So I wonder if it would be best if they found someone else to care for this little boy. I wonder if it would be best for both him and me. Because there are times when I'm considering that what I do for him is above and beyond what I should do as a mere babysitter. How much am I supposed to deal with without having signed up to care for a special needs child? And after a year, when do we say this isn't working?

Oh, but after a year, these children are special to me. I care for them. I love it when they laugh and play and cuddle and grin. We have some wonderful moments, this boy and I, and I don't want to throw in the towel on him. I don't want to abandon him.

But the other kids are starting to dread the bad times. And I need to take them into consideration too.

Hello, conundrum.

Swimming.

We took the kids to the indoor pool last night. That's one of the advantages of living here in suburbia, where we have a golf club, fitness center and a "sprayground". I admit that sometimes I feel so pretentious sitting in my minivan (with the all of the family's sets of golf clubs in the back) while we drive to one of the many pools in our neighborhood. It feels like I'm not so much 'keeping it real' as maybe more like 'living in la-la land'. But I digress.

We took the kids to the pool after a quick stop at Target. We had to buy my daughter a new bathing suit because she's grown a good 3 inches since the last time we went swimming. It's awful handy that the stores are all fully stocked with bathing suits, but it somehow felt wrong buying one when it was 34 degrees outside and sleeting.

We are currently trying to teach the kids to swim. That, however, has not been working out very well for us. Oh, we've made some advancements. The boy is now going under water and attempting to swim. The girl, though, is scared to death of having the water go anywhere near her head. So we think we'll end up having to get the kids swimming lessons. Which makes me feel even more pretentious. Because when I was a kid I learned to swim in the ocean - surrounded by all sorts of not-so-nice creatures, not with a qualified instructor in a carefully pH balanced pool. (I think we may be turning the kids into pansies.)

The boy is doing better than we first thought he would. Once upon a time he was deathly afraid of water. He avoided running water of all sorts, including the bath spout and various decorative fountains. He would not go near lakes or pools. He hated water. Now we refer to him as "aqua boy" because of his love to go under water. It's not really because of his swimming ability, though, because he seems to lack any sort of ability at all. In fact, we have determined that he is unable to even float. He walks along the bottom of the pool like he is weighted down with cement blocks. He sinks. And if there is such a thing as being too uptight to swim, that is what he is. He cannot relax enough to even straighten his body out. He spends his time in the pool all gnarled up like an old arthritic hand (if you can compare a swimming boy to an arthritic hand.) It really is a sight to behold.

The girl likes to spend her time in the pool holding onto the edge and kicking her feet behind her. She likes to be taken out into the middle while she holds onto you with a grip that turns her knuckles white and cuts off your circulation. She is surprisingly fluid in the water though. She glides and moves like she is dancing. It's ironic that she's the one with the proper form for swimming, but she's too nervous to try it. But once she gets the hang of it, watch out. She's got powerful arms and shoulders. She's a girl built to swim.

Unlike to boy, who's a boy built to sink, evidently.

Friday night and all is well, kinda.

I seem to be saying 'I'm sorry for not posting' a lot lately. Because I feel some sort of obligation to post daily. It's like if I don't post some sort of daily diatribe or maybe even a small piece of wit or wisdom, you will never ever come back here again. Like reading what comes from the depths of my brain is important to you. And to spare my ego, let's pretend that it is. So on that note, I'm sorry for not providing you with daily content.

I've been very busy with things lately. Things being various household happenings (see: Under Construction from whatever day it was this week that I posted that) and also various mind wanderings. Oh, I've managed to do some important things, like do a rough draft of my tax returns (what, don't you do a rough draft?) that went from us owing a whole heck of a lot (which heelloo, heart attack!) to us managing to get back a mere, um, pittance I guess I could call it. But pittance or no, I sure am glad that I don't have to try and arrange some sort of payment plan with the IRS. That right there would have resulted in me having to sell one (or both) of the children.

However, I am in the throes of wanting to sell one of my children anyway. The girl one, to be specific. Because she's - how do I put this delicately - batsh*t crazy. She's emotional and needy and whiny and high maintenance. And loud - very, very loud. In short, she'll make one heck of a wife one day. I just hope the highly patient (I hope) gentleman who takes her off of our hands does not come back to us looking for some sort of reparation for what he's gone through. Buyer beware, is all I'm saying.

(Oh, hush. I love her. I really do. She's an angel who gives me great joy and makes me smile every day. )

(Also, she makes me twitch and stutter.)

So forgive me for not being able to put a coherent sentence together. (Eh, who am I kidding. I wasn't able to do that before.)

Happy weekend.

Today is a good day.

We finally have cold weather here. And we finally have...wait for it...snow! Well, it snowed for about 20 minutes. Then it turned to freezing rain, which resulted in a nice layer of slush everywhere. But, oh here's the good part, it was enough that the lady I babysit for has the day off of work and so, consequently, I too have to day off of work. WooHoo!

My kids, however, still had to go to school. And since the school is right here in the neighborhood, I really had no choice but to drive them there. No choice, I tell you. Not that I wouldn't have liked for them to stay home and be noisy and messy all day. I would have loved that. Instead I was forced to drive them there and drop them off so that I would have a day to myself. Had to do it.

On an entirely different note, I HAVE THE DAY TO MYSELF. And no one is sick, which is usually the case if I'm not babysitting children. So no snot, vomit or fever. Just me. All alone. (And boy is it quiet.)

So forgive me yet again for not posting much here. While you'd think I'd have plenty of time to sit and formulate something meaningful and entertaining, that is not the case. Instead I am going to be too busy surfing the web, checking out craigslist for various entertaining posts, and playing Toontown (which is an addiction for me. I'm the yellow duck named mommaroonie, if you're on Toontown too. And that right there is a sentence that embarrasses me so very much.) Also, I may meet my husband for lunch because the roads will be cleared up by then. It's hard to imagine a lunch with him sans children.

Oh my. So much to do, so little time...

Under construction.

I can't write much today because the people are here to do the one-year checkup on the house and fix anything that may need fixing. Anything that is covered by warranty, that is. And trying to keep little kids out of the way IS NOT EASY while they move ladders and sand spots on the wall and spackle other parts and fix carpets and paint and... OH MY IT'S GOING TO BE A LONG DAY!

So please excuse the lack of posting around here. Enjoy your day. (I hope it's better than mine.)

Picture pages, picture pages...

lots of fun with picture pages... lots of fun with crayons and a pencil... oh, um, sorry, I got a little carried away there. I loved that song. You know, from Fat Albert? Does that make me old - that I used to watch that? Oh, anyway, here are some pictures for you. They are of the children, of course. They tie-dyed some shirts yesterday and I wanted to show them off. The shirts, show the shirts off. Oh, and the children too.

(Thanks Aunt P for the shirts and the tie-dye kits!)

Dear Britney,

I know that you have been under attack as of late. And I hate to jump on the bandwagon, but it's just gotten to the point that I can no longer stay silent. It's like watching someone stand at the top of very steep, very dangerous concrete steps and teeter on the edge. I need to stop you from falling. Anything I can do to help, well, will make me feel like I at least grabbed you by the hand and led you away from the steps. Stand back, Britney, for you are in danger.

I remember when you first came onto the music scene. You were so young and fresh-faced. I understood when you started to be a little more risque - I figured you needed to get away from such a young image. (I understood, but I didn't necessarily condone.) I stood by you and hummed along to your tunes on the radio. They were certainly catchy. But then when 'Slave 4 U' (by the way, it physically hurt me to type that) came out, you kind of lost me. It really wasn't that good and the whole video was, well, too much for me to let my little daughter watch. But that's okay - if you wanted to go in that direction, it was okay. I was supportive, kind of. (But I was starting to write you off.)

Oh but then, then you started cavorting around with that KFed guy. And that was not cool. All of the pictures of you smoking and groping were definitely not cool. You really lost me there. So needless to say, when you married him I figured it was the end. You and I could go on no longer.

However, there started to shine a little light of hope when you announced that you were divorcing him. Could it be?, I thought. Could she have come to her senses and will she come back better than ever? I admit, I was hopeful. Very hopeful. I mean, you are a mother now. And in my mind I was thinking that having kids would ground you and give you something to work for. I figured you would want to do something that you and your children could be proud of. A legacy of sorts. But boy, was I wrong.

Instead, you took off with a bang and shot right down into the gutter. You are falling down those concrete steps, and nothing anyone does seems to be stopping your fall. I'm not even going to touch the whole 'crotch-shot' debacle. That speaks volumes all by itself. But now we see you looking like this:


When you used to look like this:

Do you see the difference? Because the rest of us do. So go put on some clothes (start with underwear and a bra, please) and brush your hair. Stop going out so much and maybe come home a little earlier when you do go out. We want classy, Britney, classy. (Or as close to that as you can get.)

Thanks,

E

Love Thursday.

Sometimes you just look at your children and see actual big kids, not the little kids that they seem to be in your head. Sometimes you see their personality, not the personalities of their parents that we are so fond of saying they inherited from so-and-so's side. Sometimes they give you a glimpse of what they are thinking (and it's not just that they like to play with toys.)

Sometimes it breaks your heart that they are growing older, and sometimes it makes you beam with pride.

Sometimes it does both all at the same time and you feel like you could just burst.

Gosh, I love my children. I feel like I could burst.

Panic.

I am a little obsessed with sleep. (See: The topic of my conversations every single day.) And it's no coincidence that my obsession coincides with a run of insomnia. I lay in bed at night thinking that if I could just sleep for a solid 6 hours, then I could function again. I put so much stock in getting a good night's sleep that (of course) the good night's sleep never comes.

I have these panic attacks while lying in bed. At least, that's what I think they are. It is something akin to the 'going down a tunnel' feeling - where everyone and everything seem so far away. My heart races, and I lie there wondering if I can just breathe through it. (For future reference, I can't.) When the feeling of getting far away from everything takes over, I need to anchor myself, make myself aware of the things around me by touching something very solid. Usually that means I lean against my husband or shove a pillow next to me. It acts as a cocoon and helps. A little.

Having a panic attack while in bed is not a very nice thing to go through. It's very lonely, unless you wake someone else up, and the dark, quiet space is very hard to deal with at that point. I don't know why I seem to have them, but I do remember having the feeling of going down a tunnel while lying in bed when I was little. I don't remember how old, but I know I was elementary school aged at least. So I guess you could say I have a history of it.

I'm not one prone to having panic attacks. I get irritated at crowded, noisy places, but I don't have the heart-racing, palm-sweating feeling. I just get cranky. I did have a panic attack while in the checkout line at the grocery store once. It was in the mid-90's and I still remember the feeling. I remember what the cashier looked like, and I remember thinking that I was going to lose it if I didn't get out of there, quickly. I don't know what brought the episode on. I couldn't even guess. But it's there, looming in my mind whenever I have a nighttime episode. And those episodes happened frequently the last few nights.

Well, except for last night. Last night I slept. I was still sleeping when it came time to wake up. And my husband, who is usually the one to sleep in while I get a shower, went and got his shower first this morning while I actually went back to sleep after being woken up. That's a rarity for me. Once I'm awake, expecially in the morning, I never fall back asleep. Never, except for this morning, that is.

Sleepless.

Once upon a time there was a woman who suffered with bouts of insomnia. She was a woman who loved to sleep, and valued every single second of slumber she could get. But sometimes she just couldn't get more than an hour or two at a time. And that made her very tired and grumpy. The end.


Instead of writing anything because I'm sure y'all don't want to listen to my tired ramblings, I leave you with this:

I'm tired and they write notes.

Yesterday morning while we were trying our hardest to block out the noise of our wild children and lounge in bed until a more decent time of morning (like maybe 8:00 - dare to dream,) we heard the voice of one of our little noise-makers outside our bedroom door. The voice said, "Look in front of your door, there are notes for you!"

And so we looked. After, of course, we tried to ignore the voices for just a little bit longer, please God let us lie in peace for just a little while longer. And what did the notes say? They both went a little something like this:

"We ned help with the DVD playr. Pleas come down stars."

(The spelling, of course, varied depending on whether it was the kindergartner or the first grader writing.)



I really had no point to this story. I just wanted to tell you about it. I'm suffering from insomnia again, so my attention span is not even good enough for me to actually write anything longer than a few sentences. So how was your weekend?

A little bit here and there.

I went to Kohls this morning to return a belt, and ended up walking out with a pair of pants each for the kids. But worry-not about my spending, because the total cost for 2 pairs of pants was less than the cost of 1 belt. So I had enough money to buy a McGriddle sandwich at McDonalds. (What, you think I could have come home with actual money left over? Psh.)

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I've done something that is giving me much guilt. I've forgotten to mail a birthday package to a 4 year old. Her birthday was on the 31st of December. And I was very good about going out the day after Christmas and buying her a gift. But I was very bad about actually sending it. It is still sitting here - right next to the couch in the front room. I just haven't found a suitable box to mail it in. That's my excuse for not mailing it. Also, I haven't had a chance to get to the post office with various sick children. But still, not mailing a present to a little child is kind of lame. This weekend, though, it will get mailed. This weekend for sure. Hopefully.

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Do any of you have your taxes done yet? I am itching to get our finished. Mainly because I want to see if we'll be getting anything back this year. But also because I just want it to be over and done with. It wears me out worrying about whether or not we'll have to pay anything. I want to know! But we don't have all the statements we need just yet, so I'll have to wait. But you can bet that as soon as I get it all in the mail my taxes will be done, done, done! (Whether or not they're filed right away will depend on if Uncle Sam is going to cut me a check or not.)

Cranky.

I've got a cold and it is making me cranky. Not cranky like I'm going to shoot death rays out of my eyes cranky, but more the type that makes me just want to have a little less to do with anyone.

Apparently, I also have some sort of defect that permits me from realizing that when my kids are acting like total snots it may mean that they also have a cold that is making them cranky. Hence my complete irritation with my daughter last night, who, incidentally, woke up this morning feeling sick with a cold. Now I feel bad for being so frickin' irritated with her last night. (But holy heck she was irritating!)

Sorry about that, big girl.

Now excuse me while I go medicate myself.

A new year already?

So... wow... it's 2007. The years keep on going on. And each passing year seems to move along more quickly than the last. I seem to remember my dad saying something (when I was young and a year seemed like forever) about the years moving along faster the older you get. I guess he was right.

I'm not going to bore you with any new year's resolutions today. (You can thank me later.) I just don't do that sort of thing. In my mind, any time you decide to finally get off your duff and do something you've either been avoiding or ignoring, well that's when you start a-fresh. No need for a new year. But that's not to say I'm getting off my duff and starting anything. Nope, then time for me is not yet. My duff is too comfy.

I'm having trouble adjusting to being back in the weekly routine of kids at school, husband at work, and me at home with someone else's kids. Not that it's all bad or anything. Nah, it's not a bad routine. It's just that I kind of figured I would come off of the week vacation feeling a little more refreshed. Maybe more enthusiastic. Instead I feel something like what you would find under your shoe after walking across a busy parking lot. Sticky and smelly and squished. I think the technical term is blech.

But I'll keep on grinning. I always do. How are you?