Thursday, September 27, 2012

My Heart And All My Exasperation Return Soon

Remember last week when Stella and Alex had just departed for Greece

I felt nervous about being away from my daughter for 9 whole days. She's never left me for more than a few nights.  She's never been more than an hour away and suddenly I'm shipping her around the world without me.

I physically ached when I walked in to her room.  I cried when leaving the airport, even posting a heartfelt status updated on Facebook to truly depict the magnitude of my emotions.

"I just dropped my heart off at the airport."

Facebook really does allow us to show our true colors.

I still miss her.  I mean, how could you not miss this?

Cute, for sure.

I gotta tell you without a two year old is so much easier.

Sure, I laugh a little less.  Yes, I might spend less time snuggling.  Of course I haven't been singing anyone to sleep while they told me they loved me in the most adorable of tiny person voices while their little squishy hands rubbed my cheeks.

BUT, I haven't had to dress anyone, bathe anyone, wake in the middle of the night for anyone, pick up a screaming child in the middle of my errands and head home, stop fifty times while making dinner to pretend to eat fake food, or change a single diaper. It's so much less exhausting.

With the boys both gone four days a week, I have two days to work at Noonday, two days at home with no kids, and one day of activities with a kid present. 

(This week, I took that kid to get my nails done while he played my phone.  It totally worked and was awesome, though potentially really selfish.)

Have no doubt that I can't wait to see Stella and have her back with me in a lot of ways, but in a lot of ways I'm just happy to have some space.  I feel infinitely more sane, except for at night while I'm waiting for someone to stab Cole since I'm making him sleep in the stab-me-first spot while Alex is gone. I have time to balance some outside work, with blogging, with housework, with exercise, with errands, with watching Army Wives. 

I'm so well rounded now.

(I am losing a bit of my Breaking Bad edge though without my nightly episode I watch with Alex. Army Wives is even starting to seem super racy right now.)

I'm genuinely a bit concerned though folks.  Maybe I am simply a woman that needs more balance.  Maybe I'm not operating at my full potential when strapped with a two year old?  Maybe Stella is bringing me down? 

Or maybe it just feels nice to have a break. It feels really good to catch my breath.

You know what else is going to feel really good?

Snuggling with this...

And this....

Besides, I don't want Cole to get stabbed.  Alex needs to get back to protecting us all, but mostly me so I can sleep again.

Next week I'm sure I'll be back to posts of chaos and exasperation, but for the next two days I'm going to live it up.  I'm going to soak up every tantrum free minute.  I'm going to take the boys to movies, yogurt, and bike rides which are infinitely more challenging with Stella.  I'm going to sit and do nothing, absolutely nothing, in a house without any children during the day.

I'm going to love the gift of this space...and then get back to the chaos.  As it should be.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The Bad News Is I'm Unlikable, The Good News Is There Are Side Notes - PYHO

I know 99.9% of you are over hearing me talking about meth and missing Alex.  Not you Missy, but most of you. 

Or maybe none of you.  Meth is crazy intriguing from the outside.  I think Breaking Bad's success has proven that. Right?  You're going to have to discuss amongst yourself, I just said I wasn't going to talk about it.  I do have a good meth story, but it has to wait.

Seriously, that's not what this is about though, I promise.

I think.  I never really know what's happening here.

Ten or so months ago I hurt one of my good friend's feelings. When I say good friend, I mean extremely close like sisters, see one another daily sort of close.  If we were ten we would have had bff necklaces, or matching jeans, or Justin Bieber tattoos. Whatever the really close kids are doing these days.

Unfortunately, I opened my big mouth, let my emotions run away with me and said something that hurt her feelings. It was an ungrateful comment for something really awesome she had done for me.  It wasn't the cruelest words ever spoken or anything, there was no yelling or cursing, but I shouldn't have said it.  I should have gotten more sleep and sucked it up. 

I should have.

I apologized.  I apologized a lot.

I felt awful.  I still feel awful thinking that I hurt her feelings.  I think I'm actually a nice person most of the time, being unkind in any way only sets well with me when dealing with my kids.

She forgave me, but hasn't really acted that way since.

While not my first time letting my emotions speak rather than my head, or something more clever than that, this is the only time that me saying something has basically ruined a friendship.  We went from spending a lot of time together, helping one another, venting and rejoicing in all the highs and lows of life together, to her barely looking me in the eye most of the time.

You know what I'm pretty sure happened? 

She's just not that in to me anymore. 

For her own reasons, which I may never know, she just doesn't want to be close friends again.  She doesn't want to be in one another's lives.  She doesn't feel like our friendship was worth the forgiveness. 

She totally broke up with me.

Geez that really sucks. 

I have spent a lot of time, a lot of time, over the last ten months trying to figure out what I should do.  I've texted, I've tried to act normal, I've tried to give space.  Texts are unanswered though and she's mostly only friendly when my dog died or when I think she feels I've trapped her. 

Side note:  There has not been any real trapping.  I'm not skilled enough to catch my 9 pound dog without a lot of effort, there is no way I could trap a grown woman.  I mean, maybe, but I would really have to put together a strategy for that and let's be honest, I'm just not going to have that kind of focus. 

Honestly, it was pretty fantastic being such great friends, but obviously that isn't the way it is anymore.  So why do I still obsess over it?

I cried after the bus stop this morning because I feel shunned.

I am a 35 year old woman, crying at the bus stop because I can't make someone like me. 

This is the true picture of lame.  Pathetic.

Side note: Actually, I think I was most pathetic when I would try on my friend Natalie's cheerleader uniform at slumber parties in the ninth grade. I wanted to pretend to be a cheerleader, a goal I never reached because of an inexplicable nosebleed incident during the sixth grade tryouts.  I think the blood paired with my complete and total lack of gymnastics skills and/or coordination of any kind really made me a tough pick.  Discrimination at it's worst.

So I started my day feeling sullen and not good enough.

And bloated.  I was seriously bloated today for absolutely no explainable reason and it was really annoying.  I blame allergies...mostly because I blame everything else on them so it feels comfortable.

But within ten minutes of getting to work, I felt a little better.  The entire rest of my day was filled with reminders from all these amazing women I am so fortunate to call my friends. Renee, Jessica, Jennifer, Sabra, Amity, Sara, Alissa, Jenn...why am I wallowing in this situation gone wrong?

I'm probably wallowing because I'm good at that.  It's nice to be good at something. 

I'm also probably wallowing because I feel like in my whole life I've never genuinely been rejected by a friend and my super size ego is hurt like I'm in the eighth grade.

Side note:  Eighth grade did in fact mark a year of great change for me.  I went from braces and really giant bangs, to straight teeth and a more calm look at the top of my head.  BIG year for me. No friend would have ever dumped me at the end of eighth grade, I was in my prime.

I wish things were different, but surprisingly, that does not make it so.  I lost my friend.  That really stinks, but I can't change her mind and I can not keep focusing on the fact that this one person isn't interested.  It's not my job to make every one like me.

Side note: I do think I could be really good at that job if one such occupation existed, and didn't involve anything illegal or extremely immoral.  Just throwing that out there in case someone knows of something.  Call me.

I feel like the end of this needs some really emotional statement of personal growth, but seriously, I don't have it. 

Maybe I should have devoted another post to meth? Maybe I should be revisiting my journals from eighth and ninth grade?  Rereading this make me think that there was a lot going on then. 

In summary, I'm apparently unlikable.  Big revelation.

Can't win them all.

It is what it is.

Win some, lose some.

Do unto others as you would have done to you.

Live and let live.

Live and let die.

Crap, that last one's just from Guns and Roses or something, right?  Pretend it makes sense.

What's important is that I think we've all grown here.

Or not.

I think I feel better.  Do you?

Monday, September 24, 2012

Aiden's Art

Let's start with this.

First, this photo really shows off the level of my phone photography skills.  I know you are impressed, there's a good chance I'll be doing a photography "tips" blog soon. 
That's a lie.
Second, Aiden drew this, actually scary accurate, picture of my Father, including his cigarette.   Aiden finds the two most important facts about his Grandfather to be that he lives in Indiana and "smocs" (also known as smokes.) 
I'm mostly concerned about the fact that the cigarette seems to resemble a candy cane.  Christmas time might be filled with lots of pretend smoking. I just hope my meth conversations with the boys this weekend don't lead to pictures of anyone stealing cold medicine or smoking a glass pipe....not that he ever sees either of those things of course, just conversations about it.  He's only 6. 

Now, I know last night I was a bit Debbie Downer about Army Wives' lack of a solid drug plot to make up for my lack of Breaking Bad, but apparently the Netflix Gods were listening.  As I watched the 25th episode (I should be embarrassed about this,) this afternoon while Cole "rested," Lt. LeBlanc developed a tragic addiction to pain killers.  It's been really rough for Roxy.

(I know a lot of you probably know a dog named Roxy, but this Roxy is a spunky woman with a sorted past just trying to make things right with her new husband.)

We'll see how it all shakes out tonight, but I'm really pulling for them.

The important lesson learned though is that I completely left painkillers out of my addiction discussion yesterday.  This parenting stuff is tough.

On another note....Alex, I assume sensing that I took the time to blog about how much I miss him, though mostly talked about meth because that's just sort of more fun, called this morning on Facetime.  It was wonderful to see him and Stella.  Unfortunately Stella's apparently in rare form and making things challenging. 

They could really use a shout out of some prayer for the rest of their trip.  So this is my formal request.  It made me super sad to see that things are difficult. It also made me super sad that Stella didn't care at all about seeing me and only commented on seeing the dog. 

She's obviously not ready to talk about drugs yet.

Oh, P.S., with Alex out of town I have decided to start dating. 

I think it's going to work out really well.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

When Is My Husband Coming Home?

I feel lonely.  I miss my husband. 

I feel sort of pathetic for feeling lonely.

You see, for some really strange reason I have been watching Army Wives.

(Be patient, this will relate back to being lonely in a minute.  There's no way I'd just be admitting I have been watching Army Wives.)

Let's be honest, it isn't that good.  It's actually like a soap opera, but with less action. When I say action, I'm not even talking about love scenes action, I'm talking about things actually happening at all. 

Sure, on the last episode I watched there was woman kissing another woman, and a student-teacher relationship, but somehow on this show it all seems to be a little flat.  There was a woman studying for her GED though, it was CRAZY!

While it isn't the most compelling show I've ever watched, it's no Sons of Anarchy or Breaking Bad, but I think it's starting to get to me.

Additional side note, I think Breaking Bad is also starting to get to me. I took the boys downtown for  a play and we saw a very unhealthy looking young woman walking down the street all twitchy, smoking a cigarette, and carrying a 2-liter of Red Crush.  Aiden actually noticed her and asked me why she looked so strange. 

For some reason I felt it was important to let he and Cole know that I believed that woman was addicted to meth....which led to much discussion on the definition of a drug, why Tractor smoking cigarettes isn't the same, and why people buying a lot of cold medicine should not be trusted.

(For the record, it's really difficult to explain the different between an addiction to smoking cigarettes and an addiction to illegal drugs.  Essentially my sons left our conversation confused about why my Father doesn't twitch, and thinking there is a good chance he'll be arrested soon for buying a pack of smokes.  I can't make them understand everything perfectly.)

Maybe you aren't describing the key indicators of meth addiction to your 5 and 6 year olds, but it's apparently important life lessons around here.   I also managed to link this woman's drug addiction to her soda consumption and the evils of too much sugar, so really it was like a health lesson. 

Army Wives is currently a little short on drug addiction and violence, though they have been drinking soda so I'm sure a show with meth is right around the corner.  What it lacks in hard core issues, it certainly is making up for in the 'pulling on the heartstrings category.'  I can't imagine sending my husband off to war, dealing with the length of separation, and the lack of communication along the way. 

My husband has only been gone for four days and I feel a little achy. He's usually gone from early morning until after the kids are in bed anyway, so what is my problem? 

First, his absence requires me to do yard work, and I have enough going on inside the house. I mowed the grass this weekend.  I haven't done that since I was 17. I have discovered that this is one of the only things that my husband is responsible for that I never do.  After I had my neighbor come over and show me how to actually start the mower, I mowed the whole thing. I unfortunately couldn't figure out how to start the weed whacker though so I was forced to use the hedge trimmers for the curbs and immediately next to a few trees.

I'm apparently very resourceful, just like those Army Wives.

Second, Cole never stops talking.  This doesn't really relate to Alex's absence, but I'm going bananas with all his non-stop chatter and it had to be said.

Next, I'm sleeping on the kill-me-first side of the bed.  I'm not sure how it happens, but I end up on the side of the bed closest to the door some time in the middle of the night without Alex there to block me.  He usually sleeps there and by doing so has volunteered himself to be stabbed first by anyone trying to kill us in our sleep, including our kids.  Now I could go at any time, without any warning.  This is no way to live.

Finally, I promised to not watch any more Breaking Bad episodes without him and I'm getting a little twitchy without being able to find out what is going to happen next.  I'm obviously starting to bring Aiden and Cole in to my meth show issues, I clearly need a husband here for every one's safety.

And where did all my tears for Stella go?

Honestly, I am lingering for a few extra minutes over her photo and re watching a few adorable videos of her on my phone, but life without a two year old is....simply easier.  I haven't changed a diaper in four days.  I haven't taken any one's clothes off or on since she left.  I haven't tripped over a miniature shopping cart, been screamed at about washing their blankets, or had to rearrange my life for someone else to sleep. 

Those things are working out really well for me. 

Stella sure is cute, but she sure can kink up a day. 

Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to get my hands on her again and smother her in kisses and listen to her telling her brothers what to do...but a few days off is working out sort of spectacularly.

I guess I'll have to completely repeat my speech on the signs of meth addiction for her though, probably over a diaper change.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Home Is Currently Not Where Most of My Heart Is

Currently my heart is somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

At 7:00 this morning I dropped Alex and Stella off at the airport for their trip to Greece. 

I watched Alex carefully check and recheck his required items; backpack, stroller, suitcase, and little girl.  He looked different to me, wearing glasses and very tired eyes after a night of restless sleep worrying about traveling with a toddler on such a big trip.

Cole hugged Stella tightly and kept kissing her head. He was sure to tell her how much he loved her.  He was sure to tell her he would miss playing with her and he gave her an extra sticker he had stolen from her earlier. Even when she pushed her hand in his face to leave her, he pressed on with his goodbyes.

Cole gets love.  That boy is good at love.

I spent all morning at Noonday trying to strategize how I was going to purchase these two purses, because that seemed like the type of honorable and life altering work I should do as a part of an amazing, philanthropic organization like this.

Until I got this picture.

Oh yeah, my two year old daughter, whom is never out of my sight is playing in an airport in NYC just before she hops on a flight to Athens.  I'm not there. She's not here. 
Shouldn't I be freaking out?
It's strange and it's awesome and it's oddly scary in a way that I really don't understand why.
I mean, she still has her bow on, right?  Surely she's OK.
I wandered in to her room after I picked up the boys from school and cried.  Most likely because I'm getting ready to start and my emotions are all out of order, but my excuse was that the room felt too empty.  The whole house feels profoundly empty without her.
She breathes a whole lot of life in to this place, in to my life.  It feels a little dimmer without her.
This is going to be a good nine days though, I know it will be.
Cole, Aiden, and I have big plans of pizzas, a trip to the movies, a play downtown, even a sleepover  here with friends. Endless possibilities of focus on them and things that are too challenging to do with a two year old in tow.
For me, I know I'll get to relax a bit.  I get to have a break from the physical and constant demands of a two year old.  I get to go to bed without a monitor humming in my ear, or someone screaming for their pacifier.  I get to have four days a week without any children here.
I'm free....but it makes me a bit sad.
We'll see what these next days bring, but here is what I do know. 
I can't stop thinking about my husband.
He's gone a lot, but he thinks it is important to take his daughter half way around the world to meet her great-grandmother, regardless of how difficult it might be for him.  He couldn't stop talking about how excited he was for his Yia Yia to meet Stella.  I'm so grateful that the man I married loves like that. 
Sort of makes me sad all over again.  
Hormones people.
I think I should just order those bags, surely that will make me feel better about the fact that my world is floating at 40,000 feet until morning time, and I have no idea how they are doing.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

We're Throwing Sit and Spins and Crying Over Baked Goods Here

The kids are losing their minds.

I'm losing my mind.

Things have gone downhill since my day of pampering on Tuesday.

Turns out my kids don't care so much about the fact that I had my toenail and fingernails painted. They didn't even mention my cut and highlights.

I don't understand.

The last two days have been rough. I'm not sure what's been going on, but I'm pretty sure my kids are meeting in the playroom in the middle of the night to figure out how to jack with me.

I bet Stella's even organizing snacks while Aiden distributes their beloved gum.

They each must be setting alarms for the middle of the night, staggering when to stir me, immediately after I've gone back to sleep from dealing with the previous child's ailment.

They alternate melt downs over getting shoes, going to the bathroom, or eating, the true cruelties of life.

Stella fell in love with her new shoes Wednesday, then moments later screamed for 25 minutes straight while throwing the left shoe over and over again across the parking lot while I attempted to pick up Cole from school. She had a major psychotic episode...many, many times yesterday.

After I baked Aiden lemon blueberry muffins, which he has been requesting for over a week, he simply sat and cried over his muffin. He told me it smelled badly then started yelling for me to take it away. What?

(For the record, the muffin smelled like a bakery and I should have been given some adorable, yet horribly spelled, thank you card instead of yelling and tears.)

Cole, well, Cole's highlight was probably when he tossed a sit and spin at an ottoman because I asked him to come talk to me.

I'm apparently really challenging to talk to these days.

The good news though?

I no longer feel like my bangs are making me look manly.

I'm not 100% sure I'm cool enough for them, but I'm starting to think they are pretty fun. I think I can share now, though I probably should have taken my hair out of the bun. You get the idea.

I would like to say that the brief rainstorm today provided an equally brief reprieve from the torture.

And then they were back to where we started, tears.

Saturday can not come soon enough!

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Can You Worry About Bangs On 9/11?

For the last hour, I have been trying to write a post about my hip new haircut and Alex taking Stella to Greece by himself soon, and my irrational fear about that.

It's not working.  I'm failing.

You see, the thing is, it's 9/11 and Alex has the History Channel on and it's giving a moment by moment recount of the entire World Trade Center tragedy and I can't stop watching.  I'm in a trance.

I'm a little hard pressed to talk about my new bangs.  It's difficult to find the words for my conflicting feelings of fear about Alex taking Stella around the world without me, and the very real sense of excitement I feel about having ten days free of Stella, because...who gives a shit? 

Eleven years later and I still can't believe this happened.  It is still so painfully heart wrenching to watch the tragedy unfold.  I feel physically ill hearing these people wail for their loved ones and the genuine terror of seeing people fling themselves from a burning building, left with no other reasonable option.

I vividly remember that day, and the days that followed.  I knew no one that lost their lives.  I didn't even know someone who knew someone, but I felt shaken and scared for the future. I told my parents it was nearly impossible to imagine getting married, having kids, and living a joyful life like I had always assumed I would have.

But I have had that life..I did it all.  Life for me moved on and it's been damn good.

Really damn good.

Thank God.

So, my husband is taking my baby to Greece.  They will be gone nine days and it freaks me out, but it makes me happy.  In all honesty though, right now...I just feel happy that I have them.  I feel crazy excited that my day today was filled with the ludicrous self indulgence of a pedicure, a manicure, a haircut, and then the reality of a whole lot of kid wrangling and food preparing for a family of five.

My impossible to imagine eleven years ago, super annoying, fantastically wonderful, exhausting family of five. 

Plus a dog.  I hadn't even thought of  the dog possibilities.

Who could have dreamed it could be this good?

I'm sure I'll be back to babble about the very serious drama of my crazy good life soon, but for tonight?  Prayers for everyone affected in even the slightest way by this huge, scary, tragic event in our country's history. 

Everyone else, love and kiss on those you have. 

Life is good.

OK, seriously though, I have a fear that my bangs make me look masculine. 

Crap, I promise I'll wait to vent about it tomorrow.

But, is that possible though?  How are bangs manly?


Linking up to Shell's Pour Your Heart Out

Check it out!

Monday, September 10, 2012

Lunch Packing Is Evil

Two songs are on repeat on my iPod right now.  Lady Gaga's You and I and Adele's One and Only. 

Even if you have no love for these songs, I am confident you would be moved by the soul I pour in to singing these songs while driving to and from work without ANY children in the car.  I have highly complicated emotions which are best expressed though singing. 

I also might be frightening nearby drivers, but that's OK with me. 

I just thought you should know this.

Last week was strange, maybe exhausting is more like it. 

I work approximately 8 hours a week in a relaxed, enjoyable environment and I'm spent.  I am clearly not cut out for the high level of organization required by full-time working Moms.

(Shout out of serious admiration for all you working Moms out there.)

I literally felt ill last Thursday from exhaustion.

I also felt that I might just feel better if someone would give me a pedicure, redo my makeup and fix my hair... so maybe I was just feeling unattractive, which might be the same as ill? 

I don't have all the answers people.

Stella and Cole started school on Tuesday, and they were almost as happy as I was at drop off.  Cole's four times a week schedule has been sent straight from heaven.  We're all better people with something to do and Cole simply isn't cool with going to the gym, the grocery, and watching me prep dinners while his two year old sister wanders around screaming and singing only the first 6 letters of the alphabet over and over again.

Even my five year old finds my stay at home mom tasks unbearable.

Stella is still elated at being able to be part of the entire school day routine, perhaps mostly for her backpack.  She sleeps in her backpack and takes it on any and all excursions, school related or not.

She goes in to her class without looking back, loving her independence. Her teacher claims that she is cooperative and even falls asleep easily on her nap mat.  I assume they might be drugging her since that is really different than what I experiencing here, but I'm OK with that. 

The two days of no kids is AMAZING and the fact that everyone wants to go is icing on the cake.

You know what isn't anything like cake, or the icing on it? 

Making lunches. 

Why is packing a lunch for four people so difficult?  I think lunches combined with as 6:15 wake up is wearing on me a bit.  If I were employed somewhere which required me to think critically or use quick reflexes, I'd be in trouble.  I don't get it, it's not as if I'm diving deep in to my culinary options, we're taking turkey and cheese or peanut butter and honey.  I also have to pack snacks for Aiden and it about drives me over the edge. 

To further complicate my food lunch/snack time, Aiden is not allowed to bring any items containing any nuts to school. Naturally, all the sandwiches and snacks I come up with are packed with nuts of all kinds.  Trail mix, Nutella and bread, seasoned almonds, cashews, etc., it never ends.

I blame lunches and early wake up time for my recent confusion about Cole's schedule.  Last Wednesday his teacher mentioned Cole's show and tell day would be Fridays, which I found odd since I believed he was only to be at school Monday through Thursday.  When I asked her about the mix-up, she literally cocked her head, gave me a sympathetic grin, and patted my arm while explaining to me the way school was going to work.

"Oh you poor thing.  See, Cole has school Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday every week.  You must be so overwhelmed."

I appreciated her being so sweet to me, but I did find her need to state each day individually a bit over the top.  I assume she wasn't sure if I would understand what to do with Cole on Wednesday or Thursday if she just told me school was Tuesday through Friday. 

Maybe she thought I looked as if I had been making too many lunches  too.

Rest easy though everyone, help is coming.  I have already set up tomorrow to ditch out of work and take the day to get my appearance in order.  I mean, I've worked a whole two days.  Well, actually just under 8 hours, but I think we can all agree some Leslie time is due.  I'll be back to my high stress job at Noonday on Thursday.

I'm getting my toenails fixed up and my hair under control, all without children tomorrow.  Essentially there will be an entirely new woman writing this blog tomorrow....should I happen to have time to write a blog tomorrow after I finish all those damn lunches.

Hope everyone's back to school is going as well as ours!

Don't forget to double check the actual days of the week your kids' teachers will be there. 

Just a thought.

P.S. Cutest nap mat ever? 

I guess she can stop carrying her brother's spider and frog one.

Monday, September 3, 2012

There's No Way I Can Think Of A Title While Watching Breaking Bad

I sat down to write to about my third grade Up With People/Super Me journal I found at my parents' house this summer, but I can't concentrate. 

(Fear not, surely I'll write it tomorrow, you can return if you think you're strong enough.)

I just took my dog, Bea outside and was forced to wait approximately 15 minutes for her to pee and poop.  I'm not sure why she won't go outside by herself and do this, but I assume it's because the rest of this house needs me involved in the majority of their peeing and pooping, even feeling compelled to join me while I take care of my own needs, and the dog has just become confused.

I'm trying to just be grateful that she doesn't pee and poop in the house anymore, but I'm not enjoying lingering in the backyard thinking about how nice my air conditioning is.

Tonight, while I was sweating and waiting for Bea to find the blade of grass with that perfect scent worthy of her waste, I was eaten by no less than 15 mosquitoes.  I am dying of the itches. 

Unfortunately, the itching isn't the primary problem.  Now that I have a healthy covering of mosquito bites I have a flood of West Nile conversations with my Mom running through my head. 

Since July, my Mom has mentioned West Nile Virus no less than 6,000 times when discussing the weather, being outdoors for anything other than walking to or from a car, illness, or any pause in conversation where she could bring it up out of no where.  It is on her brain these days, convinced she's going to be bitten, infected, and promptly die if she lingers outdoors without a Deet bath.

 My Mom is given to these types of fears.  Thunderstorms, driving over the speed limit, Yaz birth control pills, tanks of gas less than half-full (or half-empty,) unwashed hands, not drinking enough milk, stagnant bodies of water, etc. all are hot topics of panic and paralysis of life due to their potential for doom.

This is all I can think of as I itch now though.  All those eye rolls as my Mom discussed the evils of mosquitoes are going to come back and literally bite me in the ass. 

I feel I should be on WebMD searching for the signs to look for and ways to treat it, but that feels like a lot of work.  I just ate a bowl of peach cobbler and that on top of the itching is causing all sorts of laziness. Besides, I assume my Mom could already tell me everything I need to know about how to proceed now that I'm a likely candidate for death, but no way am I going to call her and willingly bring up West Nile.

Since this could be my final post before the mosquitoes and my Mom win, I thought I should stop trying to make this all make sense and just tell you what's on my mind, other than dying.

  • I prepared a chicken-pot-pie last night for dinner and none of my children ate any of it, and it filled me with rage.  I want to serve chicken-pot-pie every night now just to mess with them.

  • The fall collection comes out for Noonday tomorrow and I fear that I might never bring another penny home from work after seeing the whole line last week.  It's brutally amazing. If you dare and it's 9/

  • I can't stop thinking about my love for Jax Teller, what a jerk Clay Morrell is, and how maybe it would be OK if Alex chooses to buy a motorcycle in the near future and join an MC.  Is it 9/11 yet?  Do any of you know what I'm saying?

  • I worked out for the first time in months today and realized that one of the perks of not doing anything physical for that long is that you can very quickly feel like you've had a full workout, complete with the potential to feel sore.

  • I put green, straight leg chinos in my Gap shopping cart for Aiden yesterday, and then took them out for fear that he might not be cool enough for them.  Now I feel guilty.

  • I'm reading the Steve Jobs biography and really trying to remain interested, but mostly my mind wanders to what type of boots I should try to buy this fall and whether or not we should think about getting a home phone line again....stuff I think Steve was thinking about too.

I think I should go take a salt bath, or go to sleep, or write my will. 

Who would like me to leave them my Steve Jobs book?