My youngest son, (nicknamed Fiver here on my blog), is named IRL for one of my heroes: a famous American test pilot.

I have noticed that my kids seem to resemble their namesakes. My oldest; named for another of my heroes, a brilliant naturalist, is clever and loves science.  My oldest daughter; named for her great aunt, one of the sweetest people I know, is gregarious, giving, and kind.  My younger daughter whose name is taken from an HP Lovecraft story is decidedly odd and sometimes a bit spooky. My middle son, bearing the name of a favourite comic book scientist, is brilliant with math and machines.

And then there's Fiver.

The boy should have been named after Matt Murdock - Daredevil of Marvel comics - because he is the Kid Without Fear.

Srsly.

He's the only one of my five who has broken a bone - his arm - after diving off his brother's top bunk. He's the one who fell out of the tree and had to be carried inside by his sister.  He had fallen on something and punctured the skin on the back of his head, drenching himself and her in blood.  He is constantly climbing things.  Ground level is boring to him.  He wants to be up HIGH.  He jumps off of or falls off of things almost daily.

So I wasn't surprised a bit to hear big sister, THCTD, worriedly telling him to "get down out of that tree before you fall!"

Sure enough, a moment later there was a rustle, a crash, and much commotion.  I met them at the door; Bitty Girl, Bulk, and Fiver in THCTD's arms.  Fiver had bled copiously all over his sister (again) from a scraped knee, skinned arm, and an inch long gaping cut under his chin.

Turns out he had not only fallen out of the big pecan tree in the front yard but had landed half on Bodog's car - snapping off the passenger's side mirror on the way down.

*sigh*

What about you?  Do your kids 'match' their names?  Do you have any daredevils in your crowd?

Insomniac ramble

Ugh. 2 a.m.

The dog barking woke me up an hour ago and I can't fall back asleep.

Stupid insomnia.

So I guess I'll blog. Haven't done that in months and months.

Why's that, Blue, you ask?  Good question. Mostly it's my not finding the time to actually sit down and do it. Twitter and Facebook are largely to blame as well. Why write a lengthy blog post with photographs when I can just quickly Tweet it and or throw pics up on my Wall?

Meh.

Oh, and I have also been on a months-long rampage against my junky house.  I actually have a few rooms clean. Clean like 'humans outside this family can come in them' clean. Really!  I'm actually pretty proud of myself.*

So what have I been up to for, oh, four months now?  Well it's been hectic.

First there was NaNoWriMo, which consumes my Novembers (I've attempted and completed 50,000 words  for two years running!).  Then, in the second week of November, I was gobsmacked when *I* got ill.  I've not been sick since I went Paleo almost four years ago.

Well it was a doozie, too. Turns out it was the flu and it morphed into Bronchitis.  I have asthma (again, symptom-free since going Paleo) and so it was pretty miserable. I almost didn't finish NaNO because there were two days in there where I couldn't even get off the couch.  Yuck.

(As an aside here, I gotta tell you; to think that I used to get that sick three and four times a year?  Plus various colds and sniffles in between? Unbelievable!  I will NEVER eat grains (and soy and starches and processed chemical crap) again for the rest of my life to be as sickness free as I am now!  I'd be Paleo for that reason alone!  People who just can't give up their 'comfort foods' and 'can't live without' their sweets, bread, and pasta and who suffer from illnesses ranging from constant colds to autoimmune diseases might want to take a really really close look.

I plan on living a long and healthy, active, life to the very end.  They plan on not 'depriving themselves' of that cupcake right now.)

Anyway, back to the blog post. *puts away soapbox*

So then we sailed into the winter holidays (since Bodog is a teacher, he's off for two weeks, too) and the craptacularness ensued.

First Bodog's wallet was stolen, then all the kids got sick with some pukey virus.  I spent three nights half awake on the couch with vomiting children on pallets on the floor next to me. At the end of it, every sheet, pillowcase, and towel in the house was either dirty or hanging on the line, wet.

Then, in case we weren't paying attention, our furnace stopped working.

Again, I spent several nights on the couch with the wood stove going in the dining room/kitchen (at one end of the house) and a space heater going in the parlour (at the other end, where the bedrooms are). I slept very badly to say the least. I kept having to get up and feed the fire and paranoidly check the space heater.

Two of our cars broke down in this time, too. At one point two cars were not functional and the truck was sitting in the yard on a flat tyre.

THEN (Yes there's more. Toldja it was a suckeriffic holiday.), right before the 'vacay' ended, Fiver fell/jumped off his brother's top bunk and broke his arm.  Here he is that night. He and I spent five hours in the ER.

So, yeah.

Y'know, it just occurred to me that one good thing about having insomnia (*squints at clock* it's now just past 3a.m.) is that all that staying up I had to do, with the sick bubs, the freezing house, and the broken baby, was a cinch.

Of course good stuffs has happened since I last blogged as well.

I ate like a pig over Thanksgiving and Xmas and I lost 7lbs.  All those folks who shook their heads when I smilingly turned down the stuffing, mac and cheese, rolls, and sticky-sweet desserts are working out madly on their exercise machines right now and weeping over the scales.  Neener, neener. ;)

We got a new car (new to us) thanks to my Dad. (Thanks, Dad!)

We got a loan to replace our furnace thanks to Bodog's Dad. (Thank's Bodog's Dad!) [Although not without the passive-aggressive dance that accompanies such things in Bodog's family.]

The children had a ball over the Christian Consumer Holiday, loved their gifts, and we all had a relaxed and happy time with our two fave aunties and our cousins.

So, all in all, not so bad (now that it's all over *whew*)

We have two working cars and a truck, a new furnace, no one is sick, and it's just snowed this week (we never get snow in SC. When we do it's just, like, two inches. This time it snowed.)  Here's the new furnace with a mantle of snow. They installed it just two days before the storm!

Well, it's 3:30 now. Guess I'll wrap it up.  Hmm, they've called school today, I think we should go to the zoo after it warms up enough to go out. :)

*If you are one of those people who keeps her house relatively clean all the time then I know you don:t understand. But srsly. This is a big deal for me.

100 things about me

I was inspired to do this list of 100 things you might not know about me by my dear friend Barb. Our friends Kayecee and Brian also did theirs. Edit: and so did this  Barb!  I'm totally loving these lists!  I love discovering new stuffs about my friends.

I'm not sure if I have the wherewithall to do this or even if I even know how, but let's just go with it, eh?

1. I'm not sure I can finish this list. I'm not that interesting a person.

2. I'm married to a wonderful man who is ten years younger than me and my opposite in personality. This is probably why we're still together.

3. I was married before, for almost 10 years, to a lying, cheating, lazy, waste of carbon, white trash, lump of shit.  I thank Cthulhu every day that we never had kids and that I got out from under his 300lbs of corpselike misery.

4. Marrying my first husband was one of the stupidest things I've ever done in my life and I've done some dumb shit.

5. I cuss worse than a sailor. I cuss worse than Dexter's sister.  I shock people when I curse around them and so I'm constantly trying to supress it. I try to keep it off this blog. Well, I TRY.

6. I curse around my children. It's just how I talk. They're used to it and know that it's 'grown up talk' just like Jack and diet Coke is a 'grown up drink'.

7. I never curse AT my children. Ever.

8. I have a terrible temper and it's explosive. I don't work up to a rage, I am beamed into that state. If something sets me off it's like Jekyll and Hyde.

9. I blow up at my kids and my husband way more than I want to.

10. I try to tone myself down. I apologise to them a lot. I should do it more often.

11. I'm a rabid Anglophile. I love all things British, the history, the literature, the films, the people, the country, the food. srsly.

12. I've been to England once, for a while, when I was considering marrying an Englishman. Then I realised that I loved England more than I loved the Englishman in question.

13. I want to take my family to England. It's my dream vacation.

14. My speech and writing IRL is peppered with British slang and spelling. This is due to the above Anglophilia, my time in England, and the influence of various Brits in my life. It's not an affectation, it's really how I talk.  Like with the cursing, I have to conciously make myself spell and talk like an American sometimes.

15. The one thing I've wanted to be my whole life is a writer. Unfortunately I suck at it.  I have several stories that I've been working on for years.

16. I did complete NaNoWriMo last year though. That was cool and felt really good.

17. I am incredibly proud that both my husband and 7 year old son participated and both ALSO completed it.

18. I have two stories in mind to write about this year, but can't decide on which one: the broken woman , overwhelmed by her own emotional baggage, returning to her disfunctional home; or the tiny lake town where, after a power plant accident one woman starts seeing ghosts?

19. My favourite fiction writers are Stephen King, Kathy Reichs, Tess Garritsen, and Anne McCaffrey.

20. Not surprisingly, I like writing Sci Fi / fantasy / horror

21. I'm a pretty good artist - with a pencil and paper. I'm trying to translate that to the computer.

22. I've been drawing and writing since I was four.

23. It's been way too long since I've actually sat down and drawn.:(

24. I'm also a pretty dab hand at jewelry making. I get bored with the fiddly bits, though, and quit pretty quickly.

25. I'm a huge comic book freak and have been since I was small. I used to own Spiderman comics from the early 70s. Yes, I have a "but my mom threw them away" story. And it's true.

26. My favourite comics right now are anything by Mike Mignola (BPRD / Hellboy), Chew, Jack Staff, Locke and Key (Joe Hill), some Deadpool, some Punisher, and some of Marvel's Ultimate titles.

27. I'm 45 years old but feel like I'm 20 (except for my knees).

28. ...both of which have mangled menisci and arthritis.

29. I have lost over 150lbs ... twice. No, that weight is never coming back.

30. I love my new diet / lifestyle (Paleo) and can get kind of enthusiastic talking about it. I'm not trying to preach, it's just that the difference in my health is astounding!

31. I've been Paleo for 3 years now. My family is Low-Carb.

32. I don't eat any bread, cakes, cookies, muffins, bagels, pitas, pasta, rice, potatoes, beans, peanuts, nightshades, fruit, or sugar, and haven't in 3 years. No. Not even one bite.

33. No, I don't miss them at all!  Really! :D

34. My favourite foods are huge steaks (preferably t-bones or ribeyes) and steamed cauliflower drenched in real butter. Nom!

35. I don't do cardio. It makes me spill my drink.

36. I have 20 more pounds to lose.

37. I have five beautiful, funny, and smart children. I don't know how that happened. I think my uterus was used in an evil experiment.

38. I had five cesarean sections and six amniocenteses.

39. I loved being pregnant. For the first time in my life I did something right and was somebody.

40. I wanted seven children. I'm incredibly blessed with the five I have. I'd still love to adopt more.

41. Each of my babies was 9+ pounds. My smallest (Bitty Girl) was 9 pounds even and my largest (Boy) was 10 1/2 pounds (and 16 days overdue).  Now they're all slender, active, normal-sized kids. In the womb I was feeding them the nasty Standard American Diet, now they eat whole, natural, low carb. Booyah!

42. I name all of my cars.

43. My favourite colour is black.

44. I still paint my fingernails black and line my eyes with kohl.

45. I consider family dogs to be part of the family and refer to them as such. I had a dog brother and sister growing up whom I miss, still, and refer to our dogs as my children's brothers and sister.

46. I prefer dogs to cats but I like cats too. The obnoxious, overindulged, and obese ones, not so much.

47. I do NOT like small dogs. The bulgy-eyed and/or squashed face ones especially squick me out. (apologies to my friends with these type dogs)

48. I was obsessed with horses from a very early age. I still adore them just can't afford to keep them.  I still consider myself a "horse person".

49. My mother bought me a horse when I was in high school. I will adore her forever for this. He was a snowflake appaloosa cross named "Snap". I immediately renamed him "Spellcaster" and I miss him to this day.  Like my dog brother and sister, Bobbie and Kate, I get weepy just looking at old pictures of him / them. As a matter of fact I'm misting up just typing this.

50. Only 50? This is as interesting as I get!  OK, OK ... 50. I am obsessed with buying domain names. Only the lack of  funds keeps me from owning as many as my online friends do.  It's probably a blessing since I don't have the time / skill to develop them.

51. I'm rather socially inept and don't make friends easily.

52. I don't like doing the things most people find enjoyable: cook-outs, parties, bars. I dislike all the noise and  feel stupid and ugly and usually just stand in a corner, people-watching.

53. I get on MUCH better with men than women. I like to talk about cars and farming and guy stuff. I find most women incredibly trite and dull.

54. That being said, I have no friends IRL.  I have some people online (many of whom are women!) whom I really treasure but I'm not sure how they feel about me.

55. I don't call / see my extended family (such as it is) nearly enough.

56. One hobby of mine that I truly get a great deal of pleasure from is dumpster diving. Not only am I good at it but I actually get excited about it. Nothing beats the triumph and satisfaction of saving something from being wasted. I have found everything in the dumpster from money to food. No lie.

57. I have an almost pathological loathing of waste. I save, reuse, repurpose, recycle, almost EVERYTHING.

58. I HATE people who are wasteful. Who cook too much food knowing that they don't eat leftovers, who take loads of clothes and toys and household items to the dump because they can't be arsed to drive to the donation center after their yard sales, who buy paper plates and ziplock bags and paper towels and toss them about like they're nothing, who buy everything in wee individual packages cuz it's just too hard to divide stuff up yourself.  Who has the time?  Oh give me a break you lazy cow!

Just over halfway through and I go into a rant?

Jeez.

ANYway ...

59. Uh ... I am kinda prone to rants. On my blogs and IRL.  Along w/ my explosive temper (#8), I am very opinionated and a TEENSY bit judgemental. So I get on these juicy ... erm ... fits of exposition. but that's what blogs and husbands are for, right?

60. I've had an invisible friend since I was small. I still talk to him - yes, out loud sometimes. Yes, he talks to me. His name is Ci (pronounced "sigh"). He said I could say all this here.

61. I suffered infertility for the ten years I was married to my first husband. No, it wasn't him.  He got his dumb-arsed Charleston slut pregnant just fine.  That all was a really, really dark time in my life.

62. After my 'starter husband' left, I was left alone with our dog, an Aussie-Border Collie cross, who, in my way of thinking was my dog son (see #45).  As an infertile woman, with no husband, I glommed onto him (his name was Nick) and we weathered the storm together. I consider him my first child and still refer to him as "my number one son". My first human son, Boy, respectfully understands all this. I still cry sometimes thinking about the day Nick died.

63. My given name is not "Blue", but it will be my legal name one day.

64. I'm a Libra and that suits me well. I can wear opals with abandon, though I don't prefer them.

65. My favourite stones are lapis lazuli, amber, and jade. I've purchased two jade bracelets from china but broke them both. :( They shatter like glass!

66. I only wear silver, platinum, or white gold. Yellow gold looks ugly and cheap on me.

67. I've had debilitating asthma since I was a tiny thing - pills, inhaler with me at all times, a few ER visits, etc. I used to have one or two attacks minimum per day

68. I have had only two mild asthma attacks in the 3 years since I went Paleo and I don't even know where my inhaler is now.  I also don't have dandruff any more. How weird is that?

69. I'm not afraid of snakes, spiders, rats, bats, or bugs, but I will admit that palmetto bugs and maggots make me cringe.  Oh and I hate houseflies. They make me crazy.

70. I named my children after my heroes (Charles Darwin, Chuck Yeager), some of my fave literature (HP Lovecraft),  several comic book references (Bruce Banner, Hank McCoy), and some family names.

71. I think a lot of people name their children stupidly or unthinkingly. I hope I didn't. I tried to give my kids names that were easy to spell, easy to pronounce, unusual, and meaningful. I also gave everyone a nice common name in case they get sick of the odd one. I hope they grow into their names and like them because I loathe my given one.

72. I DON'T think all babies are cute. I think a great deal of them are ugly as sin. I thought three of my own children were not so pretty at birth.

73. My number one disliked trait in people is uselessness. I hate useless people, people who can't DO anything. People who can't fix things, who can't change a tyre or check their oil, who can't bake a simple birthday cake or fix a good (not fancy!) meal, who can't figure out how to fix a wobbly table or leaky faucet, who can't sew on a button or fix a small tear, who can't do their taxes when they're young and single.  Bah!

74. My number one liked trait in people is a sense of humour. I love folks who don't take themselves too seriously and who are not uptight.  People with no sense of humour give me the heebie jeebies.

75. My favourite type of farm animal is waterfowl, especially my geese. I don't know why I love them so much, but I do.

76. I hate the way I look. I've never been an attractive person (even when I was a kid), so I'm used to being the ugly chick, but since being obese and losing weight (and ageing) I now look really bad: stringy, saggy,  and old. Yuck.  Being ugly sucks. It's not so much the looks part as the fact that no one pays any attention to you. Being ugly means being invisible. Trust me I know. I've been the invisible girl my whole life.

77. My favourite flowers are white roses. I love cut flowers but can't afford them.

78. I sometimes find flowers in the dumpster - stores toss them out still bundled - and it never fails to make me smile to bring home three or four dozen flowers to put on my table.

79. My favourite horse colour is dark bay, followed by black and white piebald (like Pie in National Velvet). Americans call them "paints" but that's not the same, really. Paint is a breed of horse and the patterns look different.

80. My favourite books of all time are: National Velvet, Watership Down, the All Creatures Great and Small series by James Herriot, and Anne McCaffrey's dragon books.  I also love every Stephen King book except Cujo and the Dark Tower series, Catch-22, The World According to Garp, all of Jane Austin, the Lord of the Rings, all Sherlock Holmes stories, and every Agatha Christie ever written.

81. I probably left some out. I love books. I'm a huge bibliophile. I usually am reading two to four books at a time (I switch back and forth between them) as well as that week's comic books. I have a Kindle and am IN LOVE with it and read on it every day (I'm usually reading 1 or 2 on the Kindle and 1 or 2 real books at a time).

82. I really enjoy the LOLcat sites (icanhascheezburger) and can speak and write Lolspeak pretty well. I know it probably seems silly or irritating to a lot of people but I find it fun and whimsical.  Innocent whimsy is good. We don't indulge enough in it.

83. My favourite film of all time is the original Star Wars.  I'm a HUGE Star Wars fan (Star Trek, too!)  I'm an all around big ol' Sci-Fi geek and love most all Sci-Fi films.

84. I'm a science-head too. I love science. It's fascinating and it makes sense.

85. That being said, my religion is Paganism. I'm an Atheistic Pagan. I don't believe in any higher power or supreme being (and never have) but I DO believe that everything in the universe is interconnected. I think things happen - they evolve - as they should, whether it's good or (perceived as) bad. I believe in the butterfly effect and evolution. I think that everything we do, every decision we make, changes the course of our destiny - and affects everything around us, people, animals, the environment, as well. Basically I believe in science. I also think that there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dremt of in your philosophy. I think that there are things science simply has yet to explain (for example; I believe in ESP).

86. I'm pretty good with grammar, but I'm an aweful awfull awful speller!

87. I adore the beach. We used to vacation in Myrtle Beach and I just love it. I loved it so much that when I left home at 17, I moved there.  No money, no job, no place to stay, just moved. Just the sound of waves sooths me. I have a CD of wave sounds that I use at night as white noise so I can sleep.

88. I have had 20/15 vision for as long as I can remember but, lately, I've not been able to read miniscule print on medicine bottles and such. I think my sight is failing and it upsets me.

89. I've wanted a tattoo for a while and I've finally decided on what and where (a mehndi style tat on my left hand and arm). Now to find a good artist and get the money.

90. I have eleven piercings above the neck (and none below); a nose ring, a centre labret (pronounced lay-BRET not luh-BRAY) and 9 earrings. I'm thinking of getting two more; repiercing my eyebrow and a Monroe. We'll see.

91. I only have nightmares. I dream vividly and often but I cannot recall, in my whole life, having had one that was not dark and disturbing. 98% of my dreams take place in dark settings, sometimes rainy,  and I often dream of mazes; mazes of city streets, mazes of boxes, mazes of rooms. Most of my dreams are recurring. I have about five dreams that repeat over and over and have my whole life. My most prominant one involves a huge, old house. It's always night and I'm looking for something. I always come to a room that scares me so badly that I finally wake up but I never ever find out WHY the room is so scary to me.  My worst ones involve hanging sheets of plastic and the sound it makes.

92. I'm a necrophobe. I have a fear of dead bodies. When I was little I used to get down into the floorboard of the car when we passed a cemetary. I still have to turn my head when I pass a funeral, cemetary, or funeral home. My fear is what kept me from a career in the medical field. If I see a dead body on a telly show or in a film, I'll have nightmares about it for days.

93. I hate taking the rubbish out to the truck/trailer. Seriously. Drives me crazy.

94. I don't own a working dryer or dishwasher. This is by choice. Dryers are stupid wastes of electricity, not to mention the nasty chemical stink of dryer sheets/fabric softener (yes, we can smell it!) and it only takes a few minutes to wash dishes.

95. I love living in the country. I really love it. My kids get to play outside barefoot, eat dirt, and swing on the tyre swing. They get to see how the farm works, help with the chores, get bitten by mosquitoes, and climb on hay bales. Most of all I don't have anybody watching everything I do. No nosey neighbours, no loud music, no cars all day every day running the road.

96. I like self-help books. I guess I need a lot of help.

97. I do all the repairs on and around our house and farm. I've installed doors, painted, finished rooms (sheetrock, mud, caulk, etc), replaced plumbing, fixed electrical, strung fencing, hung gates, built sheds/cages/pens.

98. I dispise chocolate.  Even the smell of it makes me cringe.

99. I'm addicted to electronics. I personally own or have bought for my husband and kids: one iPhone, one blackberry, one netbook, two ipods (family owns three), two desktops, one laptop (family owns two), one graphire pen tablet, one Flip, two cannon digital cameras, and one Kindle.  And that's just what I can think of right now.  AND I want: a Kindle DX, an Intuos4 pen tablet, and an iPad.  Addicted.

100. It took me two days to complete this list.  Jeez. Well, I hope you enjoyed it.   I'm gonna go make some t-shirts. :)

Ingoings and outcomings

This will be a brief one.

Like I needed something else to contend with, the yarks that the kids all had several days ago descended on Bodog and myself on Friday.

Bodog mostly had diaroeah to contend with but I had the whole pie.  I spent all night Friday night vomiting (what does one vomit up after the first few times?  There's nothing left in your stomach!) and felt queasy all of the day Saturday. Sunday morning I was able to tentatively sip coffee and by supper time I felt good enough to eat a bit.

Fast forward to 1am this morning.  I had to get up and puke and by the time I woke up for the day (at 3:45, oh joy) I had to go hang over the toilet and retch several times an hour.  If I even sipped water, I threw it back up.  Bleh. How could I get better, then feel bad again?!

Now, let me interrupt the bulletin for some good news (it'll all tie back in):

Ms B, the teacher of the 4-year-old Kindergarten, had a child move out of district and had an opening!

BITTY GOT IN SCHOOL!

We found out Friday and she actually started today! w00t!

Now, recall the whole mummy-blowing-chunks thing.

Yeah.

So, this morning, I'm fixing lunches, fixing breakfast, getting school clothes out - my normal routine - in between running to the loo to briefly worship the porcelain god, scrub my hands and dash back out, hoping the whole time that I can make it to the school this morning, because, by golly, unless I'm in an ambulance somewhere, I'm going to be there my child's first day of school.

Well it went fine.  Bodog went with us (he's her focus parent) and she was really really excited.  I had to drag my sorry arse up to the front office and fill out the paperwork again that I'd already bloody filled out the first of the year and then the two wee boys and I dragged home.

So now I'm once again cautiously sipping coffee and resisting the urge to ring the school and make sure Bitty is OK.

I don't know why I'm so worried. Thousands of kids MUCH farther 'along' the autism spectrum attend school happily every day.  I guess because she's never been away from both me and her father; never been in another's care or away from her siblings or home.

Well, I'm terribly happy with all of my children's teachers, and I trust them and the school staff, and, of course Daddy is just a phone call and 4 minutes away right there in the district.

More later when she gets home!

Won't you blog about this song?

I just had to share this.

As an internet entramanure myself, I found it hysterical (and telling).

Via my Blackadder List (thanks, Howie!):

Here comes another bubble



I wonder whose t-shirt that is at the end? I haz a jealous.

In a rut, still digging

Ugh.

So, we were having a convo on one of my bulletin boards about what someone called 'invisible people'. You know, waitresses, cashiers, baggers, etc; folks people tend to ignore.

Fast forward to this morning.

I was doing the morning washing up and, as I sometimes do, dwelling on the fact that I wash the same dishes over and over. Same plates, same glasses, same bowls; sometimes three times a day. Over and over.

And the same clothes. And I sweep the same floors, twice a day; let the dogs out; leave at promptly 12:45 to wait for Boy to get out of school; snacks at the same time; supper at the same time; watch a few minutes of a film; go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

I realised that I feel like one of those invisible people; like a photocopy of a photocopy, blurred and indistinct. I spend all day doing things that anyone could do, contributing nothing unique or valuable, making absolutely no difference in the world.

Heck, aliens could abduct me and replace me with a similar unit and no one would be affected. Are there no pictures of me because I really don't exist?

All the mommy websites, books, and magazines say "take time out to do something for yourself".

Yeah? What? And when?

I used to have a dozen projects going. I haven't gotten to work on an outside project in 6 months; or an inside project in a year (heck, I've got a burgeoning list of basic repairs that desperately need doing). I haven't been to the stock sale in months.

I used to do all sorts of crafts as well as draw and paint. I used to write. All of that's out the window. The crafts require a place to set it up and leave it out safely. And I can't do anything of that sort without uninterrupted quiet anyway or I lose my concentration and it's the opposite of relaxing.

I used to love gardening. I had a wee little garden (in the English sense - mixed flowers, trees, shrubs, and veg) that was just mine but the babies took it over. It's now strewn with plastic toys and beat up here and there.

Still, I stubbornly worked at my garden for a bit. I kept it as tidy as possible and kept replanting. This winter pretty much did it in, though, as the only thing I got time to plant - collards - suffered. I had six gorgeous plants and the gate got left open and the pony ate all of them but one (and smashed my pots and dragged stuff about).

Ditto with my books and collectible junque and furniture. Not that the pony got in and ate them, lol, but that they've been smashed, ripped, scratched, and lost.

I know one is not defined by stuff, but it gives one a sense of accomplishment, of worth, to be able to say "I made that", "I grew that", or "That is my meticulously researched and accumulated antique beer bottle cap collection". If I were to fall over dead right here on my Wacom Tablet, I doubt anyone would say: "Man, she sure got a lot of firewood in and stacked neatly!" or "Jeez, I can see myself in these plates!"

Would anyone even realise I'd croaked until they ran out of clean socks?

Anyway, so this morning, after I washed those same. dishes. again. I went out to get something out of the car and discovered ... the gate standing open and the pony in my garden.

Is it stupid to cry over a collard plant?

Just a funny vid

If you are a mom or are thinking you might ever be a mom click below ( Here is the link if the embed doesn't work):




I laughed so hard I had tears rolling down my face.

When she was done, I stood up in front of my computer and applauded. (Scared the cats, as well. w00t! Twofer!)



I've had this shirt for ages:

Do you think I should do a whole series with all the popular 'Momisms' on? ROTFL!

EDITED to add: this chick's name is Anita Renfroe and she is, apparently, (waaaait for it ...) a christian singer. I'm going to look into getting her DVDs anyway!

(That was sarcasm for you folks who may not know me. The 'anyway' part, not the 'getting' part. I'm definately getting them!)

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A day at the beach

Thought you might like to see a few (belated) pics from our foray to the beach.

Boy's fabulous sand castle:

If you look closely, you can see the sea oat stalk bridges and flagpoles. Behind him is my 'encampment' - The cool wee tent is from Dr. Sister in Law who got it last year for Cousin Aye. I'm so glad she brought it, because we would have been lost without it. Fiver is asleep inside:

A sandy, hot, slightly disenchanted Bulk. He's still not 100% with this whole beach thing.

Bitty spent most of her time with the beach toys.


THCTD spent most of her time in the water with EGH.


"See this? Sand! Gritty, hot, sand ... and it's everywhere!"



New farm blog up, nothing much, just a few more pics. For an updated shot of the family (no, I'm not in it), check out our newly re-done family site. I'm still working on it, so there are broken links and a few bits of weirdness. Bear with me.

Sand and surf?

Good morning everyone!

Just a quick update.

We're actually going on holiday tomorrow! We'll be going to the beach for two days thanks to Type A sister-in-law (who arranged the entire trip, thank you so much!) and my mum (who is caring for the animals and the farm while we're away, again, thank you!). Many sun-soaked pics to follow. (And, hopefully, a more relaxed me.)

EGH had a birthday! Here's the cake midway through icing:

Bleh, chocolate icing! Happy birthday you chocolate-loving sweetheart!

Here's a hat-trick of handsome young men who take after their daddy:

Bulk, Fiver, and Boy.

And some girlies in their summery clothes:

The HCTD and Bitty.

And here's another shot of a completely toilet-trained Bulk (by about two weeks now) and our newest family member, Roy:

More after we get back from the beach on Thursday. For the Farm Report go here.

PS: So, did the last Harry Potter RAWK or what?! OMG, I so want to be Molly Weasley when I grow up!

PPS: Check out my new site for the store. I separated out just the snarky stuff for ladies onto it's own site. I have the Pirate stuff up on it's own page as well. What do you think? The teacher stuff is next.

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Day two in Hell

Apologies right up front. This is one big ol' whine at 4:30am (Friday). Feel free to give it a miss.

Well this damned yeast is kicking my bountiful arse. As of this morning (1am, whee!) Fiver latching on was so painful I had to keep myself from yelling out and waking EGH. I can't go on like this. I have an unusually high threshold for pain and I was crying after a few minutes. I ended up having to unlatch him - something that has never happened; usually there's an initial stabbing/burning pain then I 'get used to it'. Not this time. He's getting more blood than milk from the left side.

I've just taken a load of my pain meds to see if I can make it through nursing the other side. I'll go out to the Wal Mart today when EGH gets home and get one of those cheapo manual breast pumps. I've used them before and they work well for me and I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to stop breastfeeding. I don't mind tossing in a little formula until we get over this and I absolutely cannot keep eating pain meds all day just to be able to feed.

I feel so bad. I'm just depressed in general with the daunting task of losing weight. It's 100% my own fault, of course, that I have it to lose in the first place, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. All the post-partum swelling doesn't help, making me gross and awkward like I was still pregnant. I also have no energy. I try to get stuff done and get so tired. I suppose all the Percocet isn't helping that. Bah.

I'm feeling and looking old, fat, and tired.

And since I've dragged you down into this sudden pity party, let me go ahead and say that all this crap makes me feel bad for EGH, too. Nothing like having an in-pain, half-doped, old, fat, tired, and crabby wife wandering about and complaining. Oh glee.

To top it all off, he's having enough trouble at work with a few fellow teachers (who deserve the moniker that starts with a 'B' and ends with 'itches', but I'll be polite and not say that here *ahem*). These cows are of the sort (and I know all of us have worked with this type before) who are just never satisfied. They don't want to do any work but they don't want anyone else to be recognized or praised. They gossip and are nosey. They fight every policy change by undermining the administration, talking behind the Principal's back, going to the district office, yet they never present viable alternate suggestions for solving problems. All they do is stir the pot, stir the pot, bitch, gripe, gossip, and moan.

I hate women like this. HATE them.

Ya know, if you don't agree with something, then stand up and say so. Come up with a better idea on how to do things. Voice your concerns to everyone. Follow the chain of command. Do your freakin' job.

How hard is this?

If you're not happy with yourself, unfulfilled at home, or whatever, then too bad. This is your job. Suck it up, pull on your big girl underpants and freakin' deal with it. I say this almost every day: these women better be damned thankful that it's the sweet, polite, pushover of an Evil Genius that they have to deal with and not me.

Especially me with thrush.

(This is me. This is me with thrush. Be afraid. Be very afraid)
(How's that for mixing catchphrases?)
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PS: thanks everyone for reading this drivel. Sometimes I feel like you guys are the only ones keeping me sane.

Birthdays everywhere!

The exo-nesting continues.

The blokes finished the fence Monday, and I, in what can only be described as a fit of enthusiasm, tore down a corner of the picket fence around the house while the babes frolicked in the slightly chilly air. (I was not just being destructive, lol, I put the fence back up minus the corner.) Since I had to crank the chainsaw (read: Evil Genius Husband had to crank the saw for me since I can't bloody well bend down), I went ahead and cut some firewood, too.

Meanwhile my bag's not packed and I haven't even found the gowns that I like to wear to the hospital. They're in this house somewhere, I just know not where. Erg.

I went to my last OB appointment yesterday, saw Dr. S (this is the one who had to abandon me appointment-before-last when his pager went off) who didn't bat an eyelash when I refused an internal exam. We had a bit of a good-natured guessing game over how big Fiver might be. I say that he's my smallest yet (I gained only 2lbs last appointment and had actually lost a pound this time*. This is unheard of for me.) and he speculated that he was about 8-81/2 lbs. this puts him well under my others (10lbs 8oz, 9lbs 1oz, 9lbs, and 9lbs 12oz, respectively) but, of course, is just a guess based on external palpation. I'm not worried, BTW, just curious.

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Well, my oldest, Boy, turned five on Sunday. I enacted the new Rules for Five-year-olds: 1) anyone five and over may request a 'theme' cake, and 2) ice cream of the birthday baby's flavour choice will be served.

We had a blast. There were presents and balloons as well as the food. The cake was a near-disaster; the cats attempted to get it while it was cooling (and almost earned the new title of Permanently Outside Pets), and I ran out of icing and so had to do a rush job to get it done prior to Boy waking from his nap. I had intended to have the top be textured like grass and water and the volcano be a LOT cooler with different coloured lava.

Ahh, well, Boy still loved it and that's all that counts.

Baby Bulk loved it too ... allll over himself.

Sorry there aren't more pics. It was cloudy out and all the pics turned out dark. I took a bunch of the girls and never got a good one. :( Bitty Girl's birthday is just days before Fiver gets here, so I'll have more opportunities for pics.

Boy has turned quite serious lately. I'm not sure if it's just him or a phase or what. He takes everything waaaaay too seriously (a big problem for me and EGH since we're kidding-around types). Boy will let the tiniest, most frivolous thing bother him, even bursting into tears over it. It has me baffled and I hope it's just normal for this age.

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From my dinosaur-obsessed children, crashing through the house, and showing how grave Boy can be:

Human Crash Test Dummy: (seizing a white balloon left over from the birthday) "I'm a girl dinosaur so I can lay an egg!"

Boy: "And I'm a boy dinosaur so I don't lay eggs!"

HCTD: (clutching 'egg') "I have to take my egg or you'll eat it!"

Boy: (sliding to a stop, clearly outraged) "Do you think I'm an oviraptor? I don't eat eggs! I'm a Dromeosaurus!"

See what I mean?

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Oh, I found this and about laughed my generous arse off: check out this YouTube clip of an old Bill Cosby skit.

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*And are the Gods of Happenstance being perverse or what? Why is it that I have TWO effin' appointments with little or no weight gain immediately after the appointment where I had to see Dr. You're-Too-Fat and had gained 8 freakin' lbs?! ARGH!

In the news

*EDIT* Sorry for the delay in this post. I actually composed it Monday but both Evil Genius Husband and I have been immobilised by The Crud. Some horrible crap (and I mean that literally) of vomiting/diarrhoea/etc that has laid us both out. I have been living on the couch for two days with a trashcan nearby and EGH - who is normally a quiet and taciturn fellow - has been immobilised upstairs like a droid who's been switched off.

Anyway, on to the juicy stuff before I yark again:

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Seen in a post on one of my many email groups:


Hi My Name is (whisky tango). I am offering to do taxes at a reduced rate. I do taxes completely online. I do e-filing and paper filing.

my fee's are as follow's
non-itemized (simple taxes) $35.00 for the first hour and $ 10.00 each additional hour. Which does not include the e-file fee .the e-file fee for state and federal are $15.00

Itemized taxes are $45.00 for the first hour and $10.00 each additional hour.

(note) I am not a CPA. I just have the tax soft ware and the know how to do taxes. I figure what better way for you not to pay some one $200 or $300 for a simple tax job.


Uhm, honey, I don't think so. Would YOU trust someone with this poor a grasp of the English language to do YOUR taxes? "Fee's are as follow's"??

I was sorely tempted to post on the group this very same sentiment but know that it wouldn't do any good. They'd simply say things like: "no body's perfect" and "every one make's mistakes". Yeah. Tell that to the IRS.

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Here's an almost unbelievable one from the news ( It's the article that Mrs Chili mentioned in her comment: crying child .)

While over 100 passengers waited, two parents tried to calm their daughter and get her in her seat on an airplane. This child - aged 3 - was apparently crawling under the seat, hitting her parents, and being generally disruptive. The parents had had 15 minutes to get this girl in her seat. They said they just needed more time. They were also outraged that the flight attendants wouldn't let them just hold her in their laps.

1) FAA regulations require that anyone age 2 and up be in her own seat and buckled in for take off. If they had broken regs and allowed the child on her parent's lap and the child had been hurt the airline would have been sued out of existence.

2) WTF? She's THREE. You pick her up and PUT her in her seat and strap her in! Nuff said.


I got this story off of my Large Family board and those ladies had some interesting comments as well; the best being: "what do they do if she won't get in her carseat at home? Let her ride on their laps?"

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And I suppose you've heard about the bloke whose wife was induced so he could go to the bears game .

Yeah. Uh-huh.

I'd have said: 1) "In your dreams. I'm not risking my or my child's life for a football game." and 2) "You just plan on going to that game, but take a suitcase! If I go into labour while you're gone you can move back in with your mother."

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Blimey ... there was another one that I saw in the paper, I think, but I've forgotten it. If I find it I'll drag myself back to the computer to edit.

PS: Mrs. Chili, Stacey, and Luna (and anyone else who wants FABoolus prizes), you need to EMAIL me, yo! I need to know what you want and where to send it.

PPS: Ugh. Gotta go hurl now.

PC rich, puke-free, and perusing the TAR-zhay

Ahhhhhh!

D'you hear that? That's the sound of someone back at her desk.

Yep, my new computer has arrived - thanks to Dad (Thank you, Daddy!) - and has been feverishly set up, plugged in, turned on, had various bits of software installed, etc.

Bliss!

Now to go about retrieving my bookmarks, logging back into all my sites, and remembering my passwords ... ugh.

----

The family is finally well. The children suffered through about 5 days of vomiting and diarrhoea. Every sheet and towel in the house got washed three times and I made about a gallon of home-made 'pedialyte' (note to self: never make it with red kool-aid!). I also got the stomach bug; and let me tell you (what you mommies already know) that changing manky sheets when you yourself are about to hurl is a tough one.

At some point early on I caught my obligatory upper-respiratory crud (my resistance is at zero what with being preggers and having the other bug) and Bulk picked that one up as well. Fortunately he got over the yarks pretty quickly (he was the first to exhibit symptoms - all over his carseat) but he just stopped snotting a few days ago.

And the coup de grace? Evil Genius Husband snagged the head cold just in time to return to work. Poor thing spent the latter half of his holiday stripping nasty sheets and cleaning puke off himself only to get a stupid cold. *very unhappy face*

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Regarding my last post and my decision (which still stands), I have not figured out how to address the person at whose house we are exposed to the other child. I emailed the other two moms and received no response. I can only assume that they disapprove of my decision (although they are both v. busy professionals, as well as moms to young kids, so they may just have not had time).

At any rate, I'm a 'do-er' when it comes to stuff like this. I like to be right up front and lay my cards on the table. I don't have anything to hide and I like to just get stuff over with; hash it out; be done with it.

I'll keep you updated. (BTW, thank you all for your supporting comments. They really helped!)

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So I was at the Target yesterday.

I hate Target. The whole Wal-Mart/Target war amuses me no end but I'm a willing participant (I know folks who wouldn't be caught dead in a Wal Mart because only white trash and Mexicans shop there *gasp* and I hate Target because it's a pretentious pain in the arse. I hate their stuff, the sales staff and other shoppers act like they're better than you (it ain't Saks, people), and their return policy blows. See? Isn't that fun? *snicker*)

So, anyway, I've only been in Target three times and it was to quickly use a gift card or return an item purchased there.*

Well, we disembarked the HMS Behemoth amidst a parking lot full of Lexuses (Lexi?) and Beemers and not a few snooty little glances from what seemed like a stampede of pregnant suburbanites and suburbanites with small children. Does the Target spray their customers with some alien-derived fertility formula? It was bizarre. (And what's up with the new maternity clothes fitting like fitness gear? I don't expect you to wear a tent but find something flattering, honey. Wearing clothes that look two sizes too small when you're not pregnant is stupid and ugly. When you're pregnant it's grotesque. I feel like the female form is a beautiful thing - especially when pregnant - but a white t-shirt so tight that I can make out the edge of your areolae and see your stretch-marks through it is NOT CUTE. I don't care if you do drive a 2007 Lincoln Navigator and your dog costs more than my car did!)

So, we're walking as quickly as my knee will allow through the store (and the herds of pregnant bellies/small kids) and I see children running, children crying, children yelling and folks are staring at us (a vast, very pregnant, cross-looking woman, who is not wearing a form-fitting Old Navy maternity shirt, and has four children? Do you blame them? The sky is falling!) when we encounter this:

The mother is about my age (40-ish), the father is dressed in that carefully calculated yuppie style (faded Lands End canvas hat, regular looking t-shirt that probably cost $60 [organic cotton, natch!], those bizarre knee-length shorts that suburban men love that look like cut-off golf pants - they're seersucker, loudly checked, and cut like dress pants [like Bermuda Shorts only uglier???], and deck shoes.) and their child (a girl of about 3-4) is lying on the floor screaming.

Mom: "Taylor, I know you're frustrated about going (didn't catch the middle bit), but Grandma said she would (something)"
Dad: "Taylor, I'll get you that Dora (something) ... let mommy and daddy finish shopping ..."
Mom: (glancing down the aisle in the other direction) "Sweetie, we're in the way of other babies ..."

Now, please bear in mind that my children are behaving thus: (aside from gaping in wonder at the show) Bitty and Bulk are sitting silently in the cart, Boy and the HCTD are walking quietly next to the cart.

Mom: (looking my way and speaking in a LOUD, shocked-sounding voice) "LOTS of babies! Tim, move out of the way!"

Uhm. We were taking up less than half the aisle. Her child was lying in the middle of the floor. Tim, by the way, was not in anyone's way. WTF?

I'll chalk this behaviour up to her being embarrassed (I'd have been mortified, myself) although she didn't seem embarrassed. She seemed pretty damned belligerent. As if I was interrupting her careful (and clearly effective *snort*) psychological reasoning with her child. Heck, if she'd just had, oh, say, another half hour unimpaired, she probably could have calmed Taylor down (or daddy's bribe would've worked.)

What would've been Blue's method, you ask? I'd've said this: "Get your arse off the floor and calm down or we're leaving right now, young lady. Let's go."

Now, see? Target clientele are clearly loads better than us Wal-Mart people!


*Please don't construe this as lack of gratefulness for the gift/gift card. I am very appreciative - a gift is a gift!. I just don't shop at Target

Another quick one ... sorry!

Well, I'm currently without a computer, so don't be alarmed if I'm gone more often.

Arrgh! I HATE it.

Obviously, I have something (since I'm typing this) but it still sucks arse.

Having your PC crash is irritating for many reasons - not least of which is folks who say: "well why don't you just use the other computer?"

Yes, it's true, I actually have four PCs on a wireless network in my house (ex-PC tech, remember?) and it's true that I did replace the phone line from the BellSouth demarc, the phone jack (whilst lying on hard concrete, ouch!), spent 2 1/2 hours on the horn to Pakistan listening to a difficult-to-understand young man read troubleshooting instructions off his screen. True we did finally get the DSL back up, the router re-initialized, and the network back up (so the other PC's can get online) ...

BUT!

See, switching to another computer is not like borrowing a friend's car. There, you just toss in your purse, fumble with unfamiliar keys, adjust to strange seat positions, taller or shorter pedals, etc. You're uneasy in a new vehicle, but you can drive it OK after you warm to it.

No, losing your PC and 'just' switching to another is like being awoken in the middle of the night and told you must move house. You are snatched away from your home and bunged into the new one. Hey, it might be bigger, nicer, more expensive! It might have a oven you could roast a goat in, a fridge the size of a pantry, huge new washer and dryer, and so on.

But it's not your house.

You discover that the little niceties you're used to are missing: toilet paper, towels, food in the gleaming fridge, clothes in the sleek Ikea wardrobe. True, the house is bigger, better, nicer - and you're appreciative of that - but it will take weeks to replace and rearrange the little necessities, to make it livable.

That's why it's hard to 'just use another computer'. All of my bookmarks are on the old one; my bloggers, my boards, my faves (including passwords); my email is set up on the old one; all of my images and software for creating shirts ... on the old one.

Crudnuggets.

And you know what the funny part is? I don't just miss my computer, I'm also pining for my desk. It's weird. It's like my workstation over there. I have a place for my coffee/Diet Coke, my idea notebook, my Discman. The pencils and the pencil sharpener, various office supplies, are there. The camera hook-up and my cell phone recharger are right at my elbow, plus I have a comfy chair and a panoramic view of the family room where the babies play all day.

LOL, perhaps a bear turned out of her den would make a better analogy.

Ahh, well. I have all of my pics of the babies and my finished t-shirt designs on CD. I guess I can bide my time until I get a new PC, fiddle around on this one - while sat awkwardly twisted on the couch (in order to use a laptop one needs a lap *snort*) while Evil Genius Husband joneses in the background to play City of Villains (this is 'his' computer. While I'm on it he can't get his email, visit his sites, surf porn, argue with fellow geeks on comic boards ... you know, essential stuff.)

I hope everyone had a lovely and safe holiday! I got the coolest gift for Fiver EVAR from a fellow blogger and I'm dying to show it off (and pay it forward). More on that later!

A Monday crabby quickie, heh

So sorry this is late, but, a very Happy Chanukah to any and all who celebrate it! Be joyous and be safe this insane season.

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Seen on BabyCenter as a suggestion for the dilemma: "My toddler has no interest in books":

(From anonymous) - "I see parents telling you not to let her watch TV. Well, there is nothing wrong with TV." [Snip, then this:] "If your conserned, I would ask some mothers who have ..." [and so on]

No comment from her on encouraging the baby to love books. Uh, yeah, honey. I'm going to take the sage advice of some chick who has obviously never read anything thicker than a supermarket tabloid but can probably name all the characters, past and present, on "Lost". I want a woman who cannot spell 'concerned' and doesn't know the difference between 'their, they're, and there' to give me parenting pointers!

That's just sad and scary, people.

------

And in the news they are suspending executions in Fl and CA because lethal injection, especially if not administered correctly, might be considered cruel and unusual.

The bloke in Florida, they say, took 35 minutes to die rather than the standard 15. He "appeared to be moving 24 minutes after the first injection, grimacing, blinking ..." He was a career criminal sentenced to death for shooting a man and previously convicted of stabbing to death a prison worker.

The bloke in California, whose execution was put off because of this new row, is a rapist and a murderer. Let's visit the facts, shall we?:

He "attacked [the 17 year old girl] from behind and tried to strangle her with his belt. [He] then hit her head with a hammer, beating her into unconsciousness, and crushing the victim's skull. [He] then dragged [her] face-down across the road and into a vineyard, where he raped her and stabbed her four times in the chest."

OK. What am I missing here, folks? What do I NOT understand?

We are concerned about these creatures? Our heartstrings are tugged when a man who has raped, killed, tortured, (whatever) experiences pain when he dies? I DON'T EFFING THINK SO!

They didn't care whether their victims - innocent people like you and me - suffered. They didn't care if their deaths were painful. They trampled the ultimate rights of an innocent person and now we should be fretting over their just death's being agonizing?

I call bull$#!t on this one.

Google me, baby! [UPDATED]

Ohhhh ... new Blogger.

Shiny.

Or should we call it Bloggoogle?

I haven't actually had a chance to muck about with it so expect either high praise or crabby bitching here soon.

BTW, I am aware that my archives are not working. They've never worked. I shall endevour today to get Bloggoogle to help me fix 'em.

I actually have emailed them twice about it but got the tinned response of some bored NON-technical-minded telephone rep who was just looking through a database for an appropriate 'answer'. Like when I used to be a telelphone and computer technician. I worked with PCs all day. It was my job. I was solely responsible for about 200 machines. I'm no computer whiz, but I had the basic working knowledge.

I'd ring Dell and get some twinkie with her eye on the clock and I'd be saying: "Yes, whenever I push ctrl/alt/del smoke pours out of the back!" and she'd snap her gum (keyboard clicking in the background) (pause) and go: "See the little button in the lower left hand corner that says 'start'? Click that and hit 'restart computer'. Give us a call back if that doesn't fix it!"

Gosh! Why didn't I ever think of that?!

Anyway, I'll be back later. Keep your eyes peeled for a new farm blog entry: Pig Races!

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UPDATE:

HAH! *does awkward happy dance* Who da woman? I think I have gotten everything fixed! It's amazing what one can do while awaiting 'official' help from the 'experts'.

Go on ... click an archive link. Click it!