Showing posts from November, 2013

eight reasons this day was less than stellar

1.) This morning at nursery school the kids made little gift baggies containing all the ingredients to make a mug of cake. They are bringing them home on the last day of nursery school before Christmas, for their Christmas parties. Elliot did not want to leave hers there until the last day. She wanted to bring hers home today. The wailing commenced. I managed to get her down the stairs to the shoe area of nursery school. I could not physically get her into her jacket. I scooped up all our stuff in one arm, and the wailing, kicking, screaming little girl with the other and carried her through the parking lot, much to the amusement (or disapproval) of the parents who had been blocked on the stairs by the previously tantruming child. Once in the van she darted (still wailing and shrieking) to the back of the van and said she wasn't coming out. I hopped in, dragged her forward, plopped her into her chair and buckled her up, narrowly missing being bitten.

2.) The drive from nursery sc…

walmart photolab posts from years past, all in one easy-to-read collection

A friend of mine took his kid to Walmart to get pictures done today. Why on Earth someone who takes really nice pictures on his own would go to Walmart to let the 14 year olds (who just got fired from MacDonald's but quickly got on at the photolab) do it is beyond me.

Especially since over the years I have blogged numerous times about the piss-off that is the Walmart portrait studio experience. It's like I'm only blogging for my dang self!

Also, I said dang this morning and one of my kids looked at another of them and asked "Isn't that a bad word?" Whatever. I googled my own self (a wonderful example of my own blogger vanity) and here are the Walmart Portrait Studio posts by Tiffany Verwey from years past. You should probably read them, especially if you have forgotten why we don't get our pictures done at Walmart. Dammit Patrice!…
I thought that in celebration of the upcoming Christmas season I'd blog about puke and the weak-stomached today. Because nothing says Christmas like chicken poop and munched on paper.

I've actually got a pretty strong stomach. Other people, less so. Oh sure, there are a few things that make me want to hurl (don't ask about the jambalaya that had shrimp tail scales in it. Or fish bones) but for the most part I can deal with weirdo stuff.

Have I ever mentioned that I have a craving for lasagna when I watch the Walking Dead? Because seriously, those zombies are like giant human-shaped sacks of lasagna. Although I will admit that this year they're somehow grosser and eviler. But I digress.

I like to pay the "I'm an Awesome Sister" card, but honestly, there were certain things I liked to torment my brother with when we were kids. He had the weakest stomach of anyone I know. I'm not even kidding.

It's really too bad he doesn't read my blog.

Trevor h…

school morning woes

For the love of all that is holy, these kids have got to stop sucking at getting out the door in the morning.

Honestly. This is going to drive Mommy to drink. Actually, probably the only thing that is preventing that is knowing that at 11 (or so) I have to leave here again to go and run around this ridonkulous town and pick half of them back up, and if I suddenly was without license I'd have to switch the kids to the school down the street from me where I'm sure half those kids don't go every day and the ones that do are likely late for sch....

Huh, kinda sounds like a plan.

Anyway. It is such a fricking gong show around here in the mornings, and we've just added another layer of fresh heck to this mess by entering Winter Outer Wear Season.

Deep breathing, deep breathing, deep breathing.

My half of this morning's conversation(s) in the last 20 minutes before finally turning the key in the deadbolt:

"Get your stuff on."

"Get your stuff on."

So I'm sitting outside of Craig Dunn

[I know, I just lost a lot of new readers by starting a sentence with 'so.' I'm okay with that.]
where I just brought the husband a donut and some coffee.

I put the van into reverse, my phone rings. It's Steven. "What are you doing?" he asks. Of course I'm not still sitting there ten minutes after he went back to work on their roof because I had two different text conversations going on.

"Driving, duh," I say, backing out.

He laughs. "Now what are you doing?"

"Backing up!" He's really kind of slow sometimes. It's not like I'm the worst backer-outer ever. "Tell me when to stop so I don't hit the building."

[This is really a service that should be provided at all business.]
"Okay, you have like twenty feet."

"No I don't. Just tell me."

"No really, you could just keep right on backing. Forever."


"Not forever. It's cl…

my word count. day 8.

This just makes me laugh every time I look at it. See that grey line? That's the line you're supposed to try and hit every day if you want to write your novel in a consistent fashion throughout the month. See that lonely tiny brown line? That's me.

It's just so ridiculous.
Remember that time when I reminded you all here and here and here and here and here that Nanowrimo was coming? Remember the countdowns and tickers?

I bet you tried to click all those 'heres.' My word I'm hilarious.

Anyway, I wrote 700 words on day 2, figured that they were 700 of the stupidest words ever, contemplated rewriting my opening and then didn't write any more ever. It's now November 7th. It's looking like it might not pan out perfectly.

Might have to get to work.

flu shots, 2013 edition

Today we took the kids for flu shots. Remember last year? When Jordan freaked out and ran and hit and then pretty  much had a giant emotional hyperventilating meltdown where we had to finally just restrain her and stick her?

This year was totally different. I made the appointment at public health instead of taking the kids to the flu shot clinic, because I thought it might be easier in an office setting without all the line ups and other kids looking scared.

I sent Jordan into the little room with Steven first, and then I stood outside the door and took deep breaths and tried to keep myself from crying. I feel so evil for making her do it when she's so scared of it.

But you know what? She sat on Steven's knee, turned her head, and got stuck like a pro. I couldn't believe it. She came out smiling and holding her sucker and we hugged and high-fived and all was well.

Giant exhale of relief from Mommy. So proud of the little runner.