Wuh-ohoh

Your Birthdate: November 5

With a birthday on the 5th of the month you are inclined to work well with people and enjoy them. You are talented and versatile, very good at presenting ideas. You may have a tendency to get itchy feet at times and need change and travel. You tend to be very progressive, imaginative and adaptable. Your mind is quick, clever and analytical. A restlessness in your nature may make you a bit impatient and easily bored with routine. You may have a tendency to shirk responsibility

Um, okay, we get it

I realize I'm being kind of a Betty, but I just think that if you have a big-ass "I stand with President George W. Bush" bumper sticker on the back of your SUV, that kind of says it all right there. But you want to add the Jesus Fish, fine. But THREE Jesus Fishes? Was that really necessary? Was it? I just don't think so.

But of course you do

Me: Hey, B, does Ellen in your class have a little sister?
Boy: Nope. But Janie has a little brother.
Me: Oh, really?
B: Yep. His name's Rico.
Me: Rico?!?
B: Mm-hmm.
Me: Cool.
B: But we call him Laser Head.

Why I love him even though the incessant whining and wailing and moaning has been driving me batshit

So yes, he's been totally spoiled (notice the smooth use of the passive there) during his week of Pain and Suffering (tm). I cleared out Barnes & Noble--and if you have a kid (or a grownup) who likes dinosaurs, you must have this book--and the Ex and Monica came through with these little beauties. One of these comes with an octopus, and the Boy took it with him into the shower last night.

B: This octopus should have a leg here [pointing to a spot between two of the octopus' legs] and here [ditto] and here [ditto] and here....
Me: But octopuses [octopii? Hand me that Tylenol with codeine again] only have eight legs, hon.
B: Nuh-uh! They have 1000 legs!
Me: No, babe, only eight.
B: [staring at me as though I've lost my mind] Then why do they call it "1000 LEGS UNDER THE SEA"?????

Must. Get. Out. Of. House.

Mother's log, day 5
Child, male, age 6, has finally become immune to the promise of ice cream. Throat seems to be improving steadily, but Tylenol with codeine has caused sever nausea yesterday, resulting in the pleasant task of applying anti-nausea suppositories. Child has remained indoors for 5 days. I sense a mutiny brewing. Will need reinforcements, or else will need to begin taking Tylenol with codeine myself.

Tonsils the size of a planet

The Boy is doing fine. His tonsils and adenoids were indeed huge, and after the surgery, while he was still asleep, I heard him breath silently for the first time in his life.

He handled it like a trooper. The doctor said, "When we went to give him the anesthesia, he started to negotiate, but a couple of whiffs and the negotiations ended." He woke up about an hour later and didn't quit eating ALL DAY. They kept him overnight because they wanted to have him on an IV drip, in case he got stubborn about drinking, which I guess a lot of kids that age do, but all the nurses ended up laughing about it. "Sheesh," said one, "the poor kid's gonna be peeing every 5 minutes between that thing and the million popsicles he keeps sucking down."

So now we're home, and other than complaining that his throat feels "all clogged up", you'd never know he had surgery a mere 24 hours ago. It's going to be fun trying to keep this kid quiet all week. I'm so glad!

Stranger than strange

So here's what I did yesterday: Met the Ex and his new girlfriend and the kids for coffee. And here's the strange part: It was fine. I like her; she seems very sweet. And she had excellent shoes. She's quite a bit younger than him (and me), but she didn't seem so young in person. And she was lovely with the kids, and they like her very much. The Girl talks about "my friend Monica" all the time. And no, that isn't her real name.

So she, according to the Ex, was stressed beyond belief to meet me, which amused me no end because I am, like, the least stress-inducing person I know. But I told her that as long as she was good to my kids, she never needed to worry about me.

And it was fine. Really. I was fine. I actually felt happy for him, and happy that this person is kind to my kids. And it's all good. How strange.

Ice cream and jello will only get you so far

Okay, people. The Boy's getting his tonsils out on Monday, and I need to prepare. We're talking a week of soft food, here. Send in your suggestions/recipes NOW, please. Please. I'm begging you. Help. Me.

Who, me?

Okay, that's freakily accurate:

You Are Likely an Only Child

At your darkest moments, you feel frustrated. At work and school, you do best when you're organizing. When you love someone, you tend to worry about them. In friendship, you are emotional and sympathetic. Your ideal careers are: radio announcer, finance, teaching, ministry, and management. You will leave your mark on the world with organizational leadership, maybe as the author of self-help books.

The Birth Order Predictor

As seen at Profgrrrrl's.

The Luck of the Lost

So here's a nice thing: I went to a boundary meeting tonight (remember that nagging school district overcrowding issue that's been hanging around?) and after driving around in circles following some other driver who I hoped knew where he/she was going, I pulled into the parking lot of the building where the meeting was being held. Another car pulled in next to me, and the woman who got out said to me, "I'm so glad you knew where you were going; I just followed you." I laughed and told her we were just lucky the guy in front of me wasn't headed to McDonalds.

Anyway, we ended up walking in together, sitting together, and after talking in the parking lot afterward for 2 hours, I just got home. Turns out she lives in the neighborhood we're moving into. One good thing to come out of the boundary meeting, if nothing else. I do so like people, if you know what I mean.

I'm blogging, and I can't get up

Damn, people. Keep me away from this thing for a week and then I go all nutty and everything with the blogging, blogging, ceaselessly blogging.

But this post is too great not to point out. Beautiful spiritual story--and it ends with poop! So you know, it goes with everything! (And happy New Year, Els dear.)

PK needs to make up for lost time

Seen at Frog's, the Need Meme, from Googling "PK needs"...

PK needs a IRC server or something. [Obviously, I am not editing these.]
PK needs emphasis in Year 2 or 3.
PK needs to respect other keepers.
PK needs to go. [Actually, I'm okay, thanks.]
PK needs a plane renewal.
PK needs to conform. [Good luck with this one!]
PK needs a private key.
PK needs at most ~O( XY + E( XY )) per edge insertion. [Hell if I know what this means, but it sounds promising. And nasty. Yay!]
PK needs to clarify what they mean by “reaching beyond denominational barriers to demonstrate the power of biblical unity.” [Or not.]
PK needs to host a poker tourney. [I think this fits in nicely with the biblical unity.]
PK needs help. [Don't we all, honey.]
PK needs the Power of Oil! [I knew I was gonna have trouble with that edge insertion.]

I could have gone on forever...you'd be sooo surprised at what I need, apparently.

What's he watching, Lifetime for First Graders?

The Boy has been saying some things lately. Some strange things. Things that lead me to believe that maybe his Papa is not monitoring his TV intake closely enough.

For example. Witness the scene earlier this evening, while he was getting into his pajamas:
Boy: Mom. You know, you don't need to spend a fortune on sewing materials. There's an easier way. With the Buttoneer, you just hook [strange hand gesture here] and pull, and voila! Buttons.
Me: ... the ... Buttoneer.
Boy: [nodding emphatically] Mmm-hmmm!
Me: Ahhhh-huh.

Ten minutes later, lying beside me in his bed, reading stories:
Boy: Mom. Tomorrow, can you please slice two slices of cucumber and put them in my lunchbag?
Me: Oh, I'm sorry, hon, we don't have any cucumbers right now.
Boy: DARN IT!!
Me: I'll be happy to pick one up at the store next time, if you'd like.
Boy: YES. Pick one up tomorrow, and slice me two slices before bed tomorrow night, and I will put them on my eyes. It's so refreshing!
Me: Oookaaaay.

But you know, he does have a point.

And the angels sang...

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, and so forth, and so on...

We--yes, we chez SBFH--are (tadada) ...

OFFICIALLY

done with diapers!

Done. Finis. Finito. Buh-bye, stinky-ass Pampers. Woot! Yee-haw!

In about 5 minutes I will sit down and cry a little tear that my days of following around those little fat diaper bottoms are now past, but for now, I will revel in the Happy Dance of the Potty Trained Children.

Amen.