Has anyone ever had to *force* themselves into sleep for more than, say, ten nights in a row? The Boy has gone all nocturnal on us, and now I'm starting to slip. So, I get in bed at 11pm and *force* myself to sleep. And every time he wakes me up, I do it again. I now hate sleeping.
I read (somewhere on the interwebs) that if you lie absolutely still and don't move a single muscle for 15 full minutes, you *will* fall asleep. It does seem to work eventually, but now I hate sleeping. But not as much as being practically unconscious every "waking" hour...
I'd go to the doctor about either of us, but he'd say, "Exercise an hour a day, don't eat junk, avoid caffeine after noon, turn off all the electronics two hours before bed, don't nap, make your bed room soothing and restful." Shit, man, if I could do that, I wouldn't be at the doctor's office EVER AGAIN! All I want to do is sleep when I'm tired. Is that too much to ask?
On a more fun note, I'm making tacos for twenty Christian teens tonight. I found the perfect dessert -- Choco Tacos! So knew such a thing existed!? Ain't America grand...
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
Spit!
Finished packing all my shorts and sandals for summer vacation, then checked Monday's forecast at the lake:
Ahh, spit. We're going NORTH, aren't we...
Ahh, spit. We're going NORTH, aren't we...
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Bodies...
Well, our trip starts day after tomorrow. I've passed the fluttery-nervous stage and have moved on to bone-crushing panic! HELP! There's too many things that can go wrong, and The Boy has some kind of virus thing. He insists that it's Ebola and he's not going on the trip, and it's stressing me out! And I'm SURE there isn't room in the car for everything!! What if I lose the name of the hotel we're staying at on the way up? Or forget the DVD player for the back seat?!
I did manage to get the utilities set up at the Lake House, and my sister-in-law swears it's all ready for the renter coming tomorrow. I still have to get trash pickup arranged, but I don't have to change over my homeowner's insurance now because my August renter (yes, she had reserved all four weeks) has cancelled. My current insurance won't let me rent for more than six weeks a year, so no problem now! Of course, I can't afford to pay the insurance, but that's another story...
I've got all the stuff that I need to get the car packed, but haven't actually packed anything yet. I've tested out the position of the bins and cages, etc., and it all fits, but I'm sure we're going to have too many clothes. The car's been fixed and set up for the trip. I've even got fresh batteries in the irrigation system. I've got all the mail forwarded in the right direction, but I haven't dealt with the newspaper or lawn. I need to finish a quilt and clean the house. The problem is that I just can't move.
At least the lawyers up north have finished my LLC. By tomorrow, the checks I deposited in my LLC's bank account will have cleared and I'll be able to pay the lawyers.
So, tonight I have a university awards dinner for The Husband, and then the final push begins. I think I'm going to die. The Boy and I can just be buried in a duffel bag in the back yard. K?
I did manage to get the utilities set up at the Lake House, and my sister-in-law swears it's all ready for the renter coming tomorrow. I still have to get trash pickup arranged, but I don't have to change over my homeowner's insurance now because my August renter (yes, she had reserved all four weeks) has cancelled. My current insurance won't let me rent for more than six weeks a year, so no problem now! Of course, I can't afford to pay the insurance, but that's another story...
I've got all the stuff that I need to get the car packed, but haven't actually packed anything yet. I've tested out the position of the bins and cages, etc., and it all fits, but I'm sure we're going to have too many clothes. The car's been fixed and set up for the trip. I've even got fresh batteries in the irrigation system. I've got all the mail forwarded in the right direction, but I haven't dealt with the newspaper or lawn. I need to finish a quilt and clean the house. The problem is that I just can't move.
At least the lawyers up north have finished my LLC. By tomorrow, the checks I deposited in my LLC's bank account will have cleared and I'll be able to pay the lawyers.
So, tonight I have a university awards dinner for The Husband, and then the final push begins. I think I'm going to die. The Boy and I can just be buried in a duffel bag in the back yard. K?
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Take it while you can...
I keep trying to find positive, count-my-blessings subjects to blog about, but life isn't cooperating right now. But, umm. Here goes.
Weather. The weather is gorgeous! The jasmine's in bloom, as the old song goes. We went to a minor-league ball game today. It was cloudy and 75, with a cool wind off the ocean. Aside from the alternating moaning and screaming of my way-too-old-for-this-shit kids, it was really nice. I got to see my homeschool girlfriends. They were really cool.
The private school sitting next to us was called "Lilies of the Field Academy". Much to our surprise, it was a small private school, consisting entirely of black kids. The critical mass of the kids was a band of little boys who spent most of the time joyfully bouncing around like pinballs. They were SO cute! Most of the dads were tattooed and/or dreadlocked, the moms were sharp-dressed, and the kids were in uniform. They were really nice, too. The woman next to me had a seven-month-old baby with her, and The Girl kept trying to pet the baby's skin. I apologized and told the woman that The Girl seldom sees black babies, and this one was particularly beautiful -- like milk chocolate, only move velvety. :) She chuckled. Silly white woman... Probably perms her hair to make it curl. Psht.
The rest of the trip was a total fiasco. Lots of junk food followed, but not enough to keep The Girl in the stadium past the 4th inning. I got to talk with my old buddies at the science museum booth outside the stadium while The Girl ate Italian ice (and The Boy assumed I was never coming back for him). They commiserated with me about the difficulty of teaching a girl who is too old for arts-n-crafts learning and not cognizant enough to learn abstract ideas. You remember last year's complaint -- I tell her that bugs breathe through their butts, and she gives me the look that says, "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?!" Yeah. I told them I was considering an iPad (with applecare+) and they said that might be a good idea because of the great education apps.
I spent the afternoon on the Oak Meadow website, looking at their third-grade curriculum. It looks great, except for the reading list: The Wizard of Oz, The Velveteen Rabbit, Charlotte’s Web, Pippi Longstocking, Winnie the Pooh, Little House in the Big Woods, and Peter Pan. All are excellent books, but way above her reading level. *sigh* It's even above her listening level. What to do...
Anyway, the kids went to bed at 9:30 -- The Boy actually went (back) to sleep around 6:00 pm -- and The Husband and I are surfing the 'net together on the couch. He's singing ABBA's "Take a Chance" right now. :) So life is good for another few minutes. I'll take it while I can.
Weather. The weather is gorgeous! The jasmine's in bloom, as the old song goes. We went to a minor-league ball game today. It was cloudy and 75, with a cool wind off the ocean. Aside from the alternating moaning and screaming of my way-too-old-for-this-shit kids, it was really nice. I got to see my homeschool girlfriends. They were really cool.
The private school sitting next to us was called "Lilies of the Field Academy". Much to our surprise, it was a small private school, consisting entirely of black kids. The critical mass of the kids was a band of little boys who spent most of the time joyfully bouncing around like pinballs. They were SO cute! Most of the dads were tattooed and/or dreadlocked, the moms were sharp-dressed, and the kids were in uniform. They were really nice, too. The woman next to me had a seven-month-old baby with her, and The Girl kept trying to pet the baby's skin. I apologized and told the woman that The Girl seldom sees black babies, and this one was particularly beautiful -- like milk chocolate, only move velvety. :) She chuckled. Silly white woman... Probably perms her hair to make it curl. Psht.
The rest of the trip was a total fiasco. Lots of junk food followed, but not enough to keep The Girl in the stadium past the 4th inning. I got to talk with my old buddies at the science museum booth outside the stadium while The Girl ate Italian ice (and The Boy assumed I was never coming back for him). They commiserated with me about the difficulty of teaching a girl who is too old for arts-n-crafts learning and not cognizant enough to learn abstract ideas. You remember last year's complaint -- I tell her that bugs breathe through their butts, and she gives me the look that says, "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?!" Yeah. I told them I was considering an iPad (with applecare+) and they said that might be a good idea because of the great education apps.
I spent the afternoon on the Oak Meadow website, looking at their third-grade curriculum. It looks great, except for the reading list: The Wizard of Oz, The Velveteen Rabbit, Charlotte’s Web, Pippi Longstocking, Winnie the Pooh, Little House in the Big Woods, and Peter Pan. All are excellent books, but way above her reading level. *sigh* It's even above her listening level. What to do...
Anyway, the kids went to bed at 9:30 -- The Boy actually went (back) to sleep around 6:00 pm -- and The Husband and I are surfing the 'net together on the couch. He's singing ABBA's "Take a Chance" right now. :) So life is good for another few minutes. I'll take it while I can.
Bon Mots: petulant, as in "petulant slacker!"
pet·u·lant [PECH-uh-luhnt]
1. irritable, impatient, or sullen in a peevish or capricious way
Origin:
1590–1600; < Latin petulant- (stem of petulāns ) impudent, akin to petere to seek, head for
My son is being particularly petulant today -- everything I do annoys him. So, in return, he annoys me.
Yeah, we're winding down to "summer" vacation here. I was hoping to get next week off to clean, pack, etc., but it seems I'll be teaching this week's lessons instead. You'd think that the promise of a new toy and a week off of school and a lesson-free vacation would be enough incentive, but no...
Tell me -- is there a legal way to get him off his ass and convince him to get this shit done? Seriously, he's driving me to swearing on the internet!
1. irritable, impatient, or sullen in a peevish or capricious way
Origin:
1590–1600; < Latin petulant- (stem of petulāns ) impudent, akin to petere to seek, head for
My son is being particularly petulant today -- everything I do annoys him. So, in return, he annoys me.
Yeah, we're winding down to "summer" vacation here. I was hoping to get next week off to clean, pack, etc., but it seems I'll be teaching this week's lessons instead. You'd think that the promise of a new toy and a week off of school and a lesson-free vacation would be enough incentive, but no...
Tell me -- is there a legal way to get him off his ass and convince him to get this shit done? Seriously, he's driving me to swearing on the internet!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Bon Mots: untoward
un·to·ward [uhn-tawrd, -tohrd]
1. unfavorable or unfortunate: Untoward circumstances forced him into bankruptcy.
2. improper: untoward social behavior.
3. Archaic. froward; perverse.
Origin:
1520–30; un + toward
"I wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to your Lego that you left on the floor."
When this word is used, the sentence always seems to be followed by a clearing of the throat. "Ahem." There is something unsaid or hinting about this word. Something taboo is afoot.
It is a Southern word that I remember my mother using quite frequently when I was a child. In fact, she once had a cold that was accompanied by a lot of that throat-clearing noise. I spent two weeks constantly on edge, trying to figure out what I had just done wrong. Ahem! Sorry... My hair was starting to thin by the time she recovered.
1. unfavorable or unfortunate: Untoward circumstances forced him into bankruptcy.
2. improper: untoward social behavior.
3. Archaic. froward; perverse.
Origin:
1520–30; un + toward
"I wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to your Lego that you left on the floor."
When this word is used, the sentence always seems to be followed by a clearing of the throat. "Ahem." There is something unsaid or hinting about this word. Something taboo is afoot.
It is a Southern word that I remember my mother using quite frequently when I was a child. In fact, she once had a cold that was accompanied by a lot of that throat-clearing noise. I spent two weeks constantly on edge, trying to figure out what I had just done wrong. Ahem! Sorry... My hair was starting to thin by the time she recovered.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Grapes of wrath
I had a drag-the-kid-screaming-from-the-restaurant moment with The Girl today. Basically, The Boy ate all the grapes from the fruit salad, and I wouldn't magically produce new ones for her. "The grapes are all gone," I told her. The scene escalated until I had to snatch her up and drag her miserable, 13-year-old ass out of the Bob Evans to cool down. After some severe negotiations (none of which included more grapes), we agreed to quiet down, return to the restaurant, and have a big chocolate chip cookie for dessert. But she still wasn't happy.
The waitress returned, offering more grapes, and I said, "NO. I cannot continue to pull miracles out of my butt for the rest of her life. She's going to have to learn to deal with it." The worst thing was that while I was gone, my parents felt the need to explain everything to the other diners. Oy. It's none of their business, Clearly, she's got issues. They'll figure something out.
Okay, here comes the comic relief. The waitress showed up and started rambling about how she had seen a show on TV about an autistic child who sang the national anthem, and I cut her off. I ordered pie for The Boy and asked The Girl what she wanted for dessert. Without hesitating, this blessed child said, quite clearly and calmly, "A chocolate chip cookie. And grapes." We laughed until we cried.
Around our house, April is "Autism is Painfully Obvious" month. We roll with it.
The waitress returned, offering more grapes, and I said, "NO. I cannot continue to pull miracles out of my butt for the rest of her life. She's going to have to learn to deal with it." The worst thing was that while I was gone, my parents felt the need to explain everything to the other diners. Oy. It's none of their business, Clearly, she's got issues. They'll figure something out.
Okay, here comes the comic relief. The waitress showed up and started rambling about how she had seen a show on TV about an autistic child who sang the national anthem, and I cut her off. I ordered pie for The Boy and asked The Girl what she wanted for dessert. Without hesitating, this blessed child said, quite clearly and calmly, "A chocolate chip cookie. And grapes." We laughed until we cried.
Around our house, April is "Autism is Painfully Obvious" month. We roll with it.
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