Stressful is as stressful does...

Well, my iMac is now up and running, after a complete hard drive replacement. *sigh* And for Christmas, the Husbandly One and I decided to forgo gifts for each other, and bought an external hard drive instead.

Not that we didn't get each other gifts, anyway. I filled a basket with little flavored coffee samples, and a cool Christmas mug, as well as his favorite treat, a Terry's Chocolate Orange, and he got me Spirit Tracks for my DS. Heh. I'm currently in the top of the Snow Temple, battling Boss Fraaz, and it's got me... Fraazled. *snort of laughter* After he destroys the ice and flame torches, it becomes considerable harder to kill him, and it also doesn't help to have a nearly nine year old critic at my elbow. "Freeze him, Mom! Use your boomerang to collect ice from that spot he spit the ice at and hit him with it, so his flames go out! MOOOOM!! You MISSED it!!! No, no, now you have to collect the FLAMES!! The FLAMES, Mom!!! MOOOOOOOM!!!! YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!!!"

Is it any surprise that I sometimes play my video games while hiding in the closet?

And hey, I won Zelda Phantom Hourglass FIVE TIMES!! Doesn't that give me any video game cred??

Anyhow, the iMac is running again, though the fan is now giving us fits. It speeds up, and then slows down, then speeds up, and slows down. I'm putting in a call to tech support to see if we need to bring it in again, or is this something we can deal with ourselves. *sigh*

This has been a strangely stressful Christmas, with only a few stress-free moments. Christmas Eve at my best friend's for dinner, Christmas day with the kids, in which we watched them tear into their gifts with big grins and didn't worry about hurrying them up and getting them fed, cleaned up, and dressed for the drive into Houston and Christmas at my sister's. Instead, we relaxed, took our time, enjoyed watching them discover the Nerf dart guns, the Nerf swords, the books, the video games, and their Asian snacks. Yes, you read that right. They love Ramune and Pocky, and whatever else THO finds at the little Asian market by where he works, and so we buy them every Christmas, and sometimes at Easter, too! I think this year, there were some little chocolate filled pretzels called "Pucca." The jury's still out on that one. Some sort of milk-flavored candy with a lemony back-taste that I'm still making up my mind about, and a cherry flavored gum that I want more of, and even now, I'm resisting rummaging in the kids' rooms to find. Miss Priss got some manga, and I found Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Demigod Files when I went shopping with the Tall Blonde, so that was in there, too. Mr. Impossible got a new DS Lite to replace the one that died last August, due to much abuse. It took the old one dying for him to understand why THO and I kept insisting that he put the thing down when he got frustrated. I will make a recommendation to any parents on my list who have purchased a DS system for their little ones, or who have kids who are a bit on the accident prone side; Nerf Armor. Nerf makes "armor" for the DS systems. It's soft, cushy, and more importantly, shock-absorbing. Buy this. Seriously. Your wallet (and sanity) will love you for it!

And the Husbandly One bought a PS2 system as a family gift, as well as a few games, most notably Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which the kids (especially Little Man) sorely missed after we replaced our PC with a Mac. As you can imagine, Harry Potter got played. A LOT.

After breakfast, and a morning of playing games, and just hanging out, we went to go see "Avatar" and were completely blown away. Went home, and all was well.

Saturday, however. *palm-forehead* Jays, I was so stressed out, because we were supposed to drive into Houston to the Blonde Sister's, and my asthma started acting up just to make things MORE fun, and the kids were squabbling, and oh, I just didn't want to go, but I sucked it up and got in the car, and we left. And yes, I know that sentence is all rambly, but you know, I think it describes the mood and feel perfectly!

However, we'd barely gotten 30 miles into the trip when the Impertinent Daughter piped up from the back seat with, "Um... I'm not sure if I unplugged the hot glue gun before we left. It's sitting on my clock radio, and I don't remember if I unplugged it."

I thought the Husbandly One was going to swallow his tongue. HE was stressed out, because yours truly was stressed out, and that was just... the icing on the cake. Because... we had to turn around and go back. Even after she frantically remembered that yes, she had unplugged the hot glue gun, the Husbandly One and I looked at each other grimly, each of us picturing the same thing: returning home Saturday night to a pile of ashes. Not. An. Option.

So, I dug out my phone to tell the Blonde Sister we weren't coming, knowing it would sound like the Lamest Excuse Ever, but... *shrugs* And why was this a problem? Well... it takes about 3 hours for us to get to Houston. We had left the house just after 11, and we wanted to be at the Blonde Sister's around 2:30 or so, and we were not planning on staying overnight. Returning home to check things out, and then getting back on the road would mean us getting to Houston sometime around 5, and then having to drive home that night. Driving home at night after such a stressful day is... exhausting. We've done that too many times as it is. So... once we were home, we were home. End of story.

And the damn glue gun was... unplugged. Naturally.

So... we went shopping instead, and picked up a few things, let the kids spend their Christmas money, that sort of thing. Got the Impossible Son some new sneakers, and got our usual shock of, "What, his shoes have been too small???" and stared at the new shoes on his feet, thinking they were just too damn big, until he took them off and we realized his feet were just too damn big, too, so, you know he's going to have a growth spurt soon... AAAAUUUUGGHHH!!!! WHERE DID MY BABY GO???

Obviously, the same place my wild fairy child went. *sigh*

Well, we'll probably go to Houston on New Year's Day and leave the presents for my great niece and great nephew there (yes, Auntie is old enough to be a great aunt, now), as well as my mom. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy the rest of winter vacation with the Husbandly One and my kids. Maybe we'll go see "Sherlock Holmes," today. That would be awesome!

I hope everyone's holidays are going well, and that you all got everything you wanted, and maybe even something you didn't know you wanted, but were delighted to get anyway!

Love,

Jo

Because it was lovely...

You ever have one of those moments when you're wholly absorbed in something, and then something happens that reminds you of why you have come to this particular place in your life?

We were at the library. The Husbandly One and the Impossible Son had gone off into the children's section to look for books, and the Impertinent Daughter and I had gone to look for manga. The manga and graphic novel section is right across from the yarn crafts section, so when I didn't find what I wanted in manga, I walked over to look at books on knitting, since I'm trying to learn. And I found what looked like a fascinating book, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting by Anne L. Macdonald (no, that's not a typo, that's the way it's spelled on the cover of the book), so I slipped it off the shelf, opened it, and started reading. You'd think a book about knitting, especially the history of knitting, would be boring, but I was wholly and completely absorbed within seconds. How could I not be, reading about how Boy Scout troops during World War I spent hours knitting squares to be sewn together to make blankets for soldiers heading to France? Or when the township of Andover, Massachusetts, decreed in 1642: "The court doe hereupon order and decree that in every towne then chosen men are to take care of such as are sent to keep cattle that they are sett to some other employment withall as spinning upon the rock, knitting & weaving tape &c that boyes and girls will be not suffered to converse together..."

Oh, I was lost! I was standing there, head bent, book open, completely and totally absorbed and then, I don't know how to describe it adequately. There I was, one moment lost in the book, the next, suddenly aware of a presence, breath against the back of my neck, and then lips on my skin. I gasped and turned... to see bright blue eyes looking into mine, and the Husbandly One smiling at me with mischief.

Normally, any one sneaking up behind me and taking the liberty of kissing me on the neck like that would end up with a bloody nose, because I'm a little tightly wired, if you know what I mean! But... somehow, even though I never heard him coming up, even though I wasn't even aware of him until half a second before he did it... I just knew. Somehow, I just knew. And that was just... mind-blowing. After nearly 19 years, you'd think I'd be used to this kind of thing, to just having this... awareness of my husband... but it's constantly a surprise, and it makes me ridiculously happy. Totally ridiculously happy.

*contented sigh*

Miss Priss had a soccer game both on Saturday and on Sunday. And her team lost both of them. *sigh* After yesterday's game, we had a party for the kids, they got their trophies, and had a "Parents VS Kids" game afterwards, which was a HUGE amount of fun. And yes, the Husbandly One played, and so did I! And even more important, I did NOT end up, splayed on the ground, doing a face-plant. Y'all should be immensely proud of me! It was exhausting, and I coughed my lungs up last night, but it was entirely worth seeing the look of delight on the Impertinent One's face when she spotted me playing defense across the field from her. Totally!

Mom, in cleats, running down a forward and keeping him from scoring. Mom, blocking the ball and passing it to midfield. Mom, not dying and not falling. Mom is awesome!

I've won enough awesome points to last me through Christmas!!

And now for something completely different...

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a Star Wars nerd... why do you ask?








My kids found this, and dragged me to the computer to watch it. They've been singing it for days!! And I can't tell you how funny it is to walk in on my son, dancing in his room and singing, "Kiss a Wookeeeeeeeee, kick a drooooooid, drive the Falcooooooooon through an as-terrrrrroooooooooid, till the Princeeesss gets annnooooooyed....."

*dies*

Maybe he was trying to erase bad memories??

So, the Asthma Monster arrived with the ragweed pollen, and I'm ... not doing as badly as say... last year, but I'm still not a happy camper. After I got the kids off to school, I took my meds and pretty much passed out in bed till 1, then got up and groggily decided lunch wasn't happening for me and stared at the computer for a bit. Then I thought shower might help matters, and was in the process of getting in when... the phone rang. And at first, I was going to ignore it, thinking, "Oh, if it's important, they'll call back..."

But you know, there's this thing called "Mom Radar," and I just knew...

So, I answered it and... it's the nurse from the Impossible Son's school. And my first thought was, "Dammit, he's got a fever... I knew I should have kept him home when he said his throat was sore!"

But nooooo... now, y'all just know it's not going to be that simple for Auntie... right?

"Mrs. J? Yes, I have Mr. Impossible here in my office, and it seems he's been stuffing erasers up his nose."

O_o... wtf???

"Erasers? Up his nose?" I said intelligently.

"Yes. I got most of it out, but his little nose is so swollen, I can't be sure there isn't more still in there..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??" I said, apparently still stuck in first gear.

"Yes. You're going to have to take him to the doctor or the clinic..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??"

Gobsmacked does not even come close to covering it.

So, I got dressed (yes, I talked to the school nurse on the phone NAKED) and called the family doctor. "No, we don't have any openings today, we're full up," the nurse said. Great, I thought. That means the so-called "urgent care clinic," in our town, which closes at 5 p.m. It's less an urgent care clinic, though, and more of a... well... let's put it this way... if your problem is urgent... you're better off going to the emergency room, because you aren't getting in to see so much as a nurse for at least two hours. So, I called the Husbandly One to let him know what was going on... and went straight to voice mail. I waited a couple of minutes, called again... and straight to voice mail. Fuck this, I thought, and called the office landline.

It was disconnected.

Wonderful, I thought, greatly frustrated. And decided to move on.

I went to pick up the little miscreant fezart eraser-up-the-nose-stuffing poor little guy, and found a rather embarrassed son standing in the nurse's office. The nurse pulled out a small bag with crumbled bits of eraser in it, and my stomach dropped. Now, when the nurse had said "eraser," I thought she meant either the ubiquitous big pink eraser that has haunted primary school since time immemorial or those funny wedge shaped ones you put on top of the pencil when the built in eraser wears out.

But no, not even close.

It was... an art gum eraser!! The suckiest eraser known to mankind. The eraser that crumbles into bits the moment you touch it to paper. Yeah, THAT one.

Could he have picked a worse type of eraser to stuff up his nose or what?

"Where did you get this?" I asked, staring at it. "I didn't give you art gum erasers!"

"From the teacher," he said, shrugging.

I checked him out, and of course, I could not help asking The Question. You know the one I mean. The one parents have asked every time one of their kids does something so ridiculous and just plain weird, and just want to understand why??

"Why did you stuff eraser bits up your nose?"

He blinked and gave The Answer kids have always given their parents when they do something ridiculous and just plain weird. Shrug. "I don't know."

Because really, he doesn't. He has no idea, none at all. It just... seemed like the thing to do. He borrowed the eraser from the teacher, tried to use it, watched it crumble and suddenly thought, "Hey, you know, those are just the right size to fit up my nose." Or maybe he thought, "You know, those crumbly bits look just like nasty, dried up boogers. Hey, I'll stuff them up my nose and see if I can gross people out!!" Who knows??

Well... the clinic was stuffed to bursting. Literally. The parking lot was packed, there were cars parked up and down the street and there were people waiting outside. People who stood in little groups, hunched in misery, eyes streaming, sneezing and coughing, dabbing at eyes and noses with crumpled tissues...

I took one look at that and thought, "Oh, no, not today." Yeah, THAT'S what we need. The FLU!! I don't think so!

I took my stinker home and made one more call to my doctor. "Is there any way y'all can fit me in? The clinic is stuffed to the gills. Look, I'll sit and wait for the first available second..."

"Let me talk to the doctor," said the receptionist, and then came back with, "I talked to Dr. R, and the PA, and they both said that they don't have the equipment to deal with this, since you said the erasers are up in both nostrils. They said you should take him to the emergency room."

I looked at the Impossible Son, who was dancing to New Found Glory on his iPod. Our E.R. co-pay went up, and I really wasn't looking forward to taking him someplace else where there would be MORE flu-stricken people. The closest urgent care centers to us are in Austin, New Braunfels, and Wimberly. I was not going to drive into Austin at 3:25 p.m.... not unless he was bleeding out his eyeballs. New Braunfels and Wimberly were out, too. And I still couldn't contact THO.

Thinking of THO reminded me that he had surgery three years ago in San Marcos... with an ear, nose, and throat guy who sees all ages. I googled him, called their office, and yes, yes, no problem, bring him on in.

YAY!! So, knowing that the Tall Blonde would pick up the Impertinent One, I took Mr. Manzie in to San Marcos to see Dr. T. who Mr. Manzie just LOVED, and after sticking a tube up that little nose that let him look into Mr. Manzie's sinuses, was able to tell me that the Impossible Son either sneezed the eraser crumbs out, or swallowed them, because his sinuses were clean.

Oh, happy day!!

He then gave Mr. Impossible the "Don't stick anything up your nose or in your ear that's smaller than your elbow," speech, which still cracks me up, because wow, kids always react the same way. The first thing they do is... try to stick their elbows in their ears!! I think doctors do that on purpose, just to see if a kid will do it!

Much relieved, we made our way back home, and then to the Tall Blonde's house to pick up the daughter.

The Husbandly One called not long after I'd arrived. "Where are you?" he asked, sounding frantic.

Turns out, he turned his phone off, because it needed to be charged and he was saving it in case he needed it while driving. And his company changed their phone numbers, but he never worried about it since he carries his mobile with him all the time. He'll be giving me that new number pretty quick, I think!

All in all, a more adventurous day than I'd anticipated. Ah, the adventure that is parenthood. It's not for sissies, or the faint of heart. And I still haven't gotten my shower!!

Brain-Farts...

Every once in a while, the pathway between my brain and my mouth short-circuits, and gives my family fuel for entertainment for months, possibly years to come.

There was an open house at the Impossible Son's school this evening, and afterwards, we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was on the way home from the grocery store that the discussion turned to Halloween and costumes. The Impossible Son asked me if I was going to dress up this year. "I dunno," I said tiredly, because I've got the Migraine of Doom. "What do you want me to go as?"

"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to go as?"

I wasn't in the mood to ride on that particular merry-go-round, so I sighed and said, "Maybe I'll just go as a hippie."

"No, I don't like that," he said and you could just hear the frown in his voice. "I don't want you to go as a hippy, Mom."

Great. "Okay, how 'bout I go as Molly Weasley?" I said. That shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, she's a mom, I'm a mom, I just have to dress eccentrically and carry a wooden spoon and look harried. In other words, just... dress and look normal, and maybe a poofy red wig or something. And add a British accent.

"That would be AWESOME!!" said Mr. Impossible. "Do it! Do it! And Papa can be Mr. Weasley!"

I looked over at my husband and his tattoos and said, "Um, no, maybe he should be Charlie..."

"No!" said the Impossible Son. "I'm going to be Charlie Weasley!"

The Impertinent Daughter snorted at this, but didn't say anything.

"Okay," I said, willing to go along with this, and thinking about what pens I could use to draw "tattoos" on his arms. "You can carry your toy dragon under your arm, too, and when you go up to people's porches, you can say, look! I'm handling my dragon!"

The moment that popped out of my mouth, I knew, instinctively, that I had Dropped A Brick. There was shocked silence in the van for about... oh... I'd say about maybe 9 nano-seconds that lasted approximately two thousand years... and then they all died laughing.

"MOM!!!" said my daughter, trying to sound outraged while nearly suffocating herself laughing. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!!"

"Wow, honey," said the Husbandly One, snorting and guffawing, "that's... wow! That's way beyond your usual!"

"What?" said the Impossible Son, lost for about ten seconds, and then, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!! MOM!!! GEEZ!!! That's just... WRONG!!!"

See? Even with a migraine, I'm pretty damn entertaining... most especially when I don't mean to be!!

I'm sure my face will stop burning at some point. And I hope they will let me live it down sometime before I'm eighty!

*goes to hide*

NO, my life can never be NORMAL...

Some of you may remember a similar little adventure of mine from three years ago.

Well... yesterday, I had a lot of errands to run, and finished up with another visit to the grocery store to pick up things I had forgotten on Tuesday. I was hot, tired, I just wanted to go home, and I was also thinking of things I needed to do when I got there. So, I was again on autopilot. I went to my van, unlocked the back, and started stowing my groceries. Vaguely, at the back of my mind, there was a transient thought of Something's missing, but I rather irritably chalked it up to having forgotten something at the store, and I wasn't about to go back and get it! No, I just wanted to go HOME. It was 102, I was soaked in sweat, and my flip flops were melting to the asphalt. I just wanted out and back into the cool, you know?

So, I close the back of the van and put the basket away, then hop in my car, thinking vaguely, Didn't I put up the sun shade? Oh, well, guess I forgot again and then wondered why the car was still so cool despite sitting in full sun for at least 30 minutes. Then I thought, "Wait... where are the Soot Sprites I hung on the mirror? And when did my car get so clean??"

At that moment, I just happened to look at the car parked on my right... and saw my Soot Sprites hanging from the mirror, in front of a silver sun shade. I wasn't sitting in my car!!

I had done it... AGAIN!!

You know what the worst part was? I had to unload the groceries, then put them in MY car!!!

*dies*

That brief thought I had about something being missing? Yeah, that was the myriad bumper stickers the Husbandly One has thoughtfully put all over the back door of my van!!!

I can say this, the owner of the mirror van no longer has a Virgin Mary on the dashboard or a pink flamingo hanging from the mirror. But her car is still insanely clean!!

After I got over my frustration, I laughed pretty damn hard at myself. And you can imagine that Auntie will very carefully check EVERYTHING before she so much as pokes her key in the door again!!

Not even 10 a.m. and Jo's had an adventure already!!

So, I'm sitting here, working on a story, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice movement in the backyard. So I duck my head down to look under the edge of the blinds and... there's a dog.

It's not unusual to see a dog wandering around in our backyard. There's a hole in the back gate that, despite my best attempts to block it, somehow is always open (I suspect our children in this matter), and thus, must be irresistibly tempting to the canine species.

There's a Jack Russell who comes into our backyard regularly, trots around to sniff things out, then departs without so much as a flick of an eye at me if I come out to address him. There's an Aussie Shepherd from down the street that comes in at least once a month, but she's very shy of me, and will flee if I look like I'm coming out the back door. A chihuahua comes strutting in, takes a quick tour around the yard and struts back out every now and then. And a large, hairy, brown mixed breed makes occasional visits, as well as a small rag mop type dog.

This morning, it was a beagle, and I watched it for a few seconds, then went back to my writing, figuring that it, like all the other dogs, would find its way back out.

A little while later, I look out and... the beagle is romping happily through the remains of our drought and sun raddled garden, before heading toward the garden shed which I see with alarm is open. So, I got up, threw on some jeans and went out, because I figured Mr. Beagle had forgotten the way out.

I noticed something a little odd about Mr. Beagle, but it wasn't until he turned his right side toward me and I blinked. He only had three legs. One front leg was missing.

I sat on the porch and spoke to him, and he came lolloping happily toward me. Yes, that is the exact word to describe it, "lolloping," and I just invented it and am very proud of it! So, Mr. Beagle came lolloping happily toward me, sniffed me, decided I would do, and cemented that by flopping down in my lap. After a few rather hairy and damp moments, we went to the water spigot, and he refreshed himself while I got a look at his rabies tag and discovered that his human and I share the same vet clinic. So I called and asked, "Do you have a three legged male beagle as a client?" and read the number off his collar.

"Oh, yes, we do!" the receptionist said, laughing. "Oh, my, is he with you now?"

"Yes," I said while he drooled on my foot. "He's very tired and sort of flopped down on my porch."

"You're the fourth person this week to call about him! I'll just let his owner know and have him call you, if that's all right?"

Of course, it was all right, and do you know, the owner just lived about six blocks down from us? I was a little surprised when one a member of our fire and rescue crew drove up, but it was his beagle, and he called Mr. Beagle his three legged miracle, promised to tell me the story another time because he had to go back to the station.

No, he didn't skip off duty to come get his dog. Apparently, everyone at the station insisted he go get Mr. Beagle and bring him by, because they hadn't seen him in a while!!

We exchanged numbers, because we figured Mr. Beagle was probably going to be making a lot of "visits" here.

Three legged beagles... don't think I'll be surprised by anything that shows up in my backyard anymore!