School is officially making me real tired

I have gobs of homework to do, we're out of clean spoons, and there is a very fine layer of dust on everything. There are also piles of laundry to wash, and they expect me to occasionally show up at work.

I called the husband Thursday morning and sobbed at him. I'm sure he was grateful I did it while he was at work instead of waiting for a more opportune time. But I couldn't help it. I was having a moment of frustration and was feeling SO overwhelmed. I didn't know what I wanted him to do. Just listen, I guess. And he did. And surprisingly, I felt a little better.

But I'm probably going to be scarce around here for a bit. Just until things calm down and it feels like I have control of the reigns again.

So possibly sometime in January.

I kid! I kid!

Why I can't be bothered to post properly today

I've been playing Oregon Trail all day. Sorry. It brought back tons of memories of playing in my elementary school's tiny computer lab on computers that used Windows 2.0.

One word of warning: it's slightly disturbing and sad when you use your real family members' names for your Oregon Trail family. When it pops up "Smella has cholera" or "Boobers has drowned" or "Big D has broken a leg," I get a little choked up.

Listy McListerson

1. This is the first season that I've watched Project Runway from the beginning. I love the show (The one where they designed for the drag queens? I couldn't love it any more.) I know I'm the last to tune into this show, but bear with me. First, Tim Gunn. I do kind of love him. He's stuffy! But witty! He just attempted "Holla at ya boy"! But the thing he does that makes me (and the husband, who is groaning because I just ratted him out) snicker wildly is "Thank yoooou!" at basically the end of every sentence. That would be a fun drinking game. I'd be trashed in the first ten minutes.

2. Secondly, why does Heidi carry a purse/bag/clutch on stage at the beginning of the show? Yes, I know she's a model. I know purses are a major accessory. But it looks like she's headed out on her way to Target, but oh first, lemme stop here, chat with these designers and "auf Wiedersehen" a model. I wish we could get rid of Heidi and replace her with Tim all the time.

3. On Friday morning, I loaded the babies into the car, buckled them in, dragged all of our various bags to the trunk, and backed out of our driveway. I heard a distinct flubbaflubbaflubba and promptly pulled back into the driveway. My tire was completely flat. Holding back tears of rage, I unloaded everything and everybody to go back inside. Smella wanted to know what the hold up was, and when I told her my tire was flat, she bent down to take a look. "Mommy! It's okay! It just needs some fresh air!"

4.

These are like crack and should carry the "can't eat just one" motto. I don't feel satisfied until I've had at least four. Sometimes one of each flavor. And I really like to let them to sit out for a bit and get a little melty so I have something to suck up at the end of one. I make sure I save the green ones for Big D. He says those are his favorite.

5. The husband and I are going to see Burn After Reading with friends on Friday. I have a baby shower Saturday morning to attend, a kid's birthday party to attend Saturday afternoon, and my mom's birthday is Sunday. Wanna know what I really want to do? Sit at home in my pajamas and vegetate in front of the TV. Preferably with an episode of Project Runway while gorging myself on Fla·Vor·Ices.

Because the husband and I celebrated our 10th so hard, all you get is a video today

I think I figured out what all those Post-its I sent to school with Big D were for. Or at least, I kind of hope that's what they were for, because this video is pretty neat.

Of fortune-telling and being shot in the face

There's no way for me to top the husband's tenth-year anniversary post. He sums everything up so fluidly and eloquently, no? Exactly everything I feel is written right there. 311 and and Yahweh. Verbatim, baby.

I will say that yay! ten years! Amazing. And amazing that I still like him. A lot. He's funny. His eyes are a lovely shade of dark blue. He's scary smart. He makes cute babies. So here's to another ten and beating all the odds.


Happy anniversary.

Soooo...

I promise this will be the last time I speak of $35 next-day shipping. Last time. For this semester at least. Promise.

I ordered my psychology book online on a Monday afternoon. After forking over money to receive it really, really fast, it was delivered Friday. That's four days.

I had to reorder a book for my first year seminar class. (The dude at the brick and mortar bookstore handed me the wrong book. That's a completely different ranty post.) I ordered the book through the same online store on Saturday afternoon. I used regular ground shipping. Want to know when it came? THREE DAYS LATER. I opened the box, not really believing it would be the book, but it was the book, delivered faster and cheaper than next-day shipping, and then my head exploded.

So that's it. I'm done with the fucking textbook-shipping talk.

***

In other news, I was sitting at the computer this morning while the babies melted their brains with some TV. Boobers was dancing around, giggling, when he decided to throw his blankie over his head, which completely covered his eyes, and run straight into the side of the computer desk. He hit so hard that he fell backwards.

He's fine. He doesn't even have a bump. But do you have any idea how hard it was to have to bite my lip and not laugh? His noggin is fine, but I have bloody tooth marks on my lower lip.

Customer of the day

After my coworker had handed back a lady's change in drive-thru, I was standing next to the open window, counting said coworker's till. I noticed the lady had opened her car door, and while juggling the small dog on her lap and her huge drink, was fishing for something on the ground. I heard her mutter something, and I turned to her.

"That girl dropped my dime on the ground."

I blinked a couple of times, watching her fumble around for a bit. After it looked like she really wasn't giving up the good fight for the dime, I offered her another one from the till I was counting.

"Here. Take this."

She actually took it.

I've dropped change before at drive-thrus, and I'm here to admit that if it isn't actual paper money, it's gone. And I'm okay with that. There's no way in hell I'd try to retrieve ten cents. Honestly, if you are in so much trouble that you have to worry about every single dime you drop, I'm thinking you should probably stay at home with your annoying little dog.

At the very least, you definitely shouldn't be spending $4+ on a frou-frou coffee drink.

Random Monday thoughts

1. Man, this poor little blog. I've neglected her. But hey, my kids are mostly happy, the house is mostly clean, I'm mostly caught up on laundry, and I'm a week ahead in my homework. Soooo...

2. It really is the end of summer. I sent Big D to school in jeans for the first time, as opposed to shorts. I could just cry. I love fall, but the thought of battling winter that follows behind depresses me. The snow, the layers of coats, the cold temperatures. It just gets worse the older I get.

3. Also neglected? My TV shows. I'm three episodes behind in Project Runway, two behind in America's Next Top Model, two behind in that new series the husband wants me to watch, True Blood. And I'm sure it's only a couple of weeks before all my other favorites come back. Won't someone think of my television viewing?

4. K's birthday was August 27. We've still not gotten together to celebrate it. I adore her, but I'm still really bummed she moved so far away. I really, really hate being grown up sometimes.

5. The husband and I will celebrate our 10th anniversary this Friday. I have a three day weekend off of work too. I need to come up with something fun and different to do without it costing a whole lot of money. Honestly, just being alone, no kids, at a grown-up restaurant will probably be enough. We're easily amused at this house.

Listy McListerson

1. This blog, my friends, has finally come in handy. I compiled the posts of "How I met the husband" into one paper, tweaked it a little, and will be sending it in as my narrative rough draft for my English class. After it's peer-reviewed and tweaked some more, I'll send it in as my final draft. Score!

2. The husband dragged all three kids out to run errands so I could enjoy the peace and quiet and do some homework. I really do like him quite a bit. The dimples don't hurt either.

3. On a completely unrelated note, you really know it's time to shave when your fifteen-month-old starts petting your legs. Lovingly. Like they're, I don't know, a beloved dog.

4. Boobers has begun talking up a storm. His favorite thing to do is to point a chubby finger at anything and say, "Whadat?" When looking at pictures, it's, "Whodat?" I'm still not being called mama on a regular basis. His huge brown eyes framed with dark lashes is the only thing that saves him.

5. The husband just wandered through, saw that I was posting, and made some snide comment that I have three kids, work a part-time job, go to school, and yet still manage to post more to my blog than he does his. Like it's a contest or something. It's not. But if it were, I WOULD TOTALLY BE WINNING.

Inflicting psychological damage on our children

I'd love to regale you with tales of how annoyed I am with work, of how utterly lost and overwhelmed school makes me feel most of the time, of how tired I am, of how I'd like to just lock myself in a room and cry, and of how I feel like a crappy mom and sometimes wife because of all of that, but I won't. Because man, that would just be one big Debbie Downer.

Instead, let's imagine we're tripping on acid together while watching this video. I've never tried LSD and won't be any time soon, but from what I've heard, this video would probably be awesome while doing it:

You can thank me later when you realize you've been humming that tune all. day. long.

And the winner is...

It's here. The time where I announce the winner of a super fabulous $10 giftcard to Starbucks! I was happy to find out I'm not the only one that curses like a drunken sailor on occasion. I even learned some new curses to add to my repertoire.

Soooo, without further ado, I announce that:


Comment #5 is the winner which translates to Teri of wishes, hopes and dreams! Teri likes to keep it clean with an innocent "tartersauce!" I should probably adopt more of Teri's innocence, what with all the small mockingbird toddlers I have running around here.

Teri, email me at notinsaneperse@gmail.com so I can get your address and drive to your house all stalker-like unless you live really far away because gas is really too expensive for a road trip, so then I'll just resort maybe emailing you occasionally and sending spam send you your giftcard.

And in spirit of the contest, thanks a fucking lot to all of you who entered. It's been a fucking blast.

Fuckin' A.

100th post! And a contest!

FINALLY! The moment you've all been waiting for. This marks my 100th post. Woot!

It's been brought to my attention lately that maybe I curse too much in my posts. It made me nervous and a little paranoid, and I went back and reviewed some of the stuff I've written, and I've come to a conclusion.

Nuh uh.

I don't curse in every single post. And I really don't use the big, ugly curse words often. And it doesn't matter. This is my blog, dammit, and if I want to drop an F-bomb, I will. Feel free to mentally place ***'s in strategic places, or read some other blog that's all about rainbows and puppies, but here, in Per Se Land, the occasional "fuck" will be written. I can't help it. How else will I describe the frustration of paying $35 for expedited next-day shipping for my psychology book on Monday and then receiving it on FRIDAY?

So in honor of my potty-mouthed blog AND my 100th post AND to delurk some of you lurkers, I'm going to have a contest. All you need to do is leave a comment. But I thought I would spice it up a little. In your comment you can leave your most favorite curse word/phrase/saying. You don't HAVE to, I completely understand some of you don't curse. In that case, just say "hey" or "howdy" or "I WANT PRIZE." Post whatever you want, and feel free to comment as often as you want, because I'll be picking the winner at random. (By the way, the husband says he's going to enter, but he totally can't be the winner. I won't allow it. Once again, it's my blog!)

Okay, want to know what you can win? It's so exciting. It's fabulous! It's a $10 giftcard to Starbucks! Woohoo! I know it's not much, but if you choose wisely, you can get at least two mocha choca lotta ya yas out of it. (The husband brought up the fact that it should be a $100 giftcard. But then I had to remind him, yet again, of $35 shipping and the fact that my children like to eat once in a while. Damn kids and their "needs.")

So that's it. Post your favorite curse word or something else, as often as you want, and I'll pick the winner at random on Friday at 9:00 AM EST.

And just to get started, my favorite curse is "clusterfuck."

Ready? Go!

Dear Smella,

Today you turn three. I've been doing that thing all day where I go, "And this time three years ago, I was at my weekly doctor's appointment or driving to the hospital..." Right now, at this time three years ago, I was probably still in the process of answering all of those admittance questions, hanging out in my hospital gown, a bundle of nerves and excitement. You were born a little after 10 PM. An easy labor and delivery, all pink (and a little cheesy) and adorable.


You've changed so much in the past year. You've perfected screaming. You've learned that by screaming, almost anyone will do anything you want to make you stop. You know how to count to eight. I no longer have to buy diapers for two babies. You finally had enough hair to cut! You know how to use those dimples and blue eyes to their full advantage.


You adore your brothers. Big D can make you giggle faster than anything, and Boobers is a constant source of practicing all your empathy and mothering skills. I know that if Boobers needs anything, you'll be first in line to help. As the only baby girl, you're equally adored, and will probably always be the go-between.


You had a blast at your party on Saturday. You reveled in the fact that everyone in the room was singing to you, and you had enough steam to blow out all three candles by yourself. You were so proud of yourself, and I was of you too.


I adore you. I love the conversations we have on a daily basis. Like, "You have to work today? But I don't want you to! I neeeeed you here!" I adore your screaminess, your fierce determination, your utter stubbornness, your dimples and your crazy blond curls. You're my only, my most wanted, my lovely baby girl. Happy birthday.

Love,

Mom

Listy McListerson

1. I ordered my psychology book on Monday with next day shipping. Next day after what, I don't know, because IT STILL ISN'T HERE.

2. Smella turns three on Monday. When I asked her what she wanted me to cook for her birthday dinner tomorrow, she first replied, "Chocolate cake!" I assured her there would be cake, but what about dinner? "Chicken nuggets!" So I'm making chili. I feel like it's a good compromise.

3. There was a huge store meeting at work last night. We were told that they would be cutting down on our ten minute breaks, and that we MUST start tucking in our polo shirts. a) Thanks for nothing, assholes; b) I can't believe we just had a store meeting over that stupid shit; c) Some humans should never, never tuck in their polos, especially humans with asses as large as mine.

4. Since Smella is finally three, I am SO buying her some Barbies. I'm going to try to get her one of those Kelly dolls, you know, Barbie's littlest sister. The husband maintains that Kelly is really Barbie's illegitimate daughter, a love child that everyone was so embarrassed about they had to come up with another story, but he doesn't really know.

5. My BFF, K, turned 29 on Wednesday. I talked to her Tuesday, we even talked about getting together for her birthday later. I completely spaced calling her ON her actual birthday. Totally forgot. And when I tried calling her several times yesterday to apologize for my blunder, she didn't answer. I spent most of the day sniffling around, thinking she was so mad at me she didn't ever want to talk to me again. Turns out she had just been really busy yesterday and wasn't avoiding my calls. Then she called me a big dork for thinking she'd give up on a fifteen year relationship because I'd forgotten to call. Then I called her a dork for not answering multiple phone calls and frantic text messages. We're all good again. Whew.

School's going great, thanks for asking

Soooo...this English composition class I'm taking? I have to write posts in the class blog. I was actually really pumped about it, because hey! Blog posts? I got 'em. But no, we're given a topic to blog about, which completely takes all the fun out of it.

So instead, I'll just be creative about it here. The first week's topic is, here we go, "If this class were a journey, what kind of journey do you want it to be?"

Sigh.

Complete cheesiness. And I had to write at least 250 words. It was HARD. I'll paraphrase what I actually wrote:

I like to write, blah, blah, but I kinda hate being confined to specific topics, blah, I wanna learn how to get through that, blah, blah, I love you guys, I'm gonna try real hard, BLAH.

Here's what I really wanted to write:

Um, this class? I'm taking it because I have to. I don't really want to. I think I write pretty well already, and from reading some of the other students' posts, I'm a damn genius. This isn't a journey, it's a damn prereq to classes I actually WANT to take. But I'll humor you, and if this class really were a journey, I'd hope it'd be the kind of journey that surprises me. Like, "Ooh, I think this trip might suck," but actually turn into, "Hey, that wasn't so bad. I guess. Whatever."

I'm not going to get this degree without offending several people, am I?

It's been a fun, fun day

But not really.

I started out this morning gathering up the babies for a trek to the campus bookstore. I claim temporary insanity. I circled and circled the parking lot, looking for a spot closer than sixteen blocks away to park in. Nothing. I wound up crying and calling the husband, prompting him to come home from work and meet me in the driveway when I got home, bookless.

I called my mom to come sit with the babies as the husband and I drove back to campus. The line to get into the store was wrapped around the building. Finally in the building, they only had two of my textbooks in stock. Thanks. I cried some more.

The husband and I drove to the next closest campus where we were informed that no, you can't buy books there for online courses, those have to be purchased online. NOT TRUE, DUMMY, but I scanned the shelves myself and determined that they didn't have the book either.

I wound up coming home and just ordering the damn book online. I paid $35 for expedited shipping.

Since I'm off work tonight, it's really my only time to get online and finish up what I can for the week. In the middle of posting my introduction for Psychology 101, the online format I'm using crashes and my access to everything is suddenly denied. ON THE FIRST DAY OF CLASSES. I cried a little bit more, slammed a few doors, shrieked at the husband profusely. He threw chocolate and soothing words at me.

I guess I should quit shrieking at the husband. He's been nothing but supportive in this adventure of mine. And I know for a fact he won't whine once if dinner's late, if he has to finish up a few loads of laundry for me, or if I need him to patiently explain integers one more time. He's a pretty terrific husband.

I'm going to finish up my chocolate, snuggle the husband for a minute, and try logging in to my classes one more time. If you hear cursing and general unpleasantness in the vicinity of Indianapolis, it means access was denied again, and my head is probably exploding. Duck.

Brazil nuts in your mocha? OH HELL YEAH!

This afternoon, a guy came in and ordered this drink: a large latte with one pump of chocolate, four pumps of sugar-free caramel syrup, nonfat milk steamed to 140 degrees, with light whipped cream and caramel drizzle. I handed him his finished drink and out of the corner of my eye watched him take the lid off. He stirred it, took a drink, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of finely chopped pecans. He sprinkled the top liberally with the nuts, replaced the lid, took another sip and walked off.

WTF?

At what point did he decide chunks of pecans would be a lovely accompaniment to a hot espresso drink? And he carries them around in his pocket? Who carries nuts in their pockets?

And how the hell do you SIP on pecans?

Listy McListerson

1. I have three children. I can't even tell you how many times I've held my baby for some nurse to poke with a needle. Today, when the otherwise very sweet nurse stabbed my fifteen-month-old's chubby, dimpled thigh two times, I wanted scream velociraptor-style and then rip her head off. SHE MADE MY BABY CRY. Apparently it never gets easier.

2. While Boobers completely recovered and is just fine now, I still used him as an excuse to get out of something I didn't want to go to tonight. If you're going to feed, clothe, and rip people's heads off for your kids, the least they can do is give you an out for something once in a while.

3. I officially start school on Monday. I'm taking seven credit hours. I already know that I'll have to do a research paper for the English class I'm taking. I'm already overwhelmed and nervous that this will cut into my blogging time. Fucking higher education.

4. Oh, and school? I don't have books yet because I'm taking online classes and the damn online classes don't show up online until the very first day of school. Look, I like procrastination as much as the next gal, but not when I've invested several thousands of dollars on something. Speaking of, WHERE IS MY STUDENT LOAN?

5. This post right here makes my 94th post. That's only six away from 100! (I did the math for those who have trouble with it, like, uh, me.) I'm thinking I'm going to have a little contest to celebrate and to make all you lurkers delurk. So keep an eye out for it, and prepare to be dazzled by fabulous prizes! (Okay, a prize, and it probably won't be SUPER fabulous. But still.)

Olympic Observations

I've enjoyed watching the Olympics this year, probably too much. I love the swimming, diving, gymnastics. My only complaint is that you have to watch during the day or very late at night to catch the coverage of the not so popular sports.

Women's 20K race walk. I didn't even know race walking was an Olympic event. It may very well be the oddest thing ever. The rules are simple: one foot must always be on the ground and your knee has to be straight unless the leg is behind you. This makes these women's strides look alien, like their legs are perhaps made of Jell-O. Jell-O going 60 miles an hour. The whole time I watched, I kept wondering, why don't they just go ahead and jog? Or you know, break out in a run? And how do they stop themselves from not?

Badminton. Best sport ever, really. My partner and I were number one in our 10th grade PE class tournament. It was the first and only time I was number one at anything regarding PE. I'm sure we were a site to behold: a short, chubby girl and her tall, chubby, gay male partner. BUT WE KICKED ASS. And if I had only known at the time that badminton was an Olympic event, I may have tried even harder in gym.

Table tennis. I knew this was in the Olympics, but the other day they were showing the ping pong players as they "trained." They kind of jogged around the ping pong tables and did little arm rotations. And yes, I giggle, but I'm fully aware of the fact that even the worst table tennis player could whoop my ass into a grease stain.

Rhythmic gymnastics. That's the one where they twirl ribbons and throw balls in the air, flip and turn, and then catch them. I adore the sport even though the husband insists it was made up for the people who couldn't cut the real gymnastics. I haven't caught any coverage of it yet, but I think I'll DVR it and force the husband to watch all of it.

So what's your favorite lesser-known Olympic event? Your answer has to be one of those sports that's only shown at 3 AM. Everyone adores Michael Phelps and little Shawn Johnson. I want to know about your crush on Olga Kaniskina, the awesome Jell-O legged race walker.

Free to good home

While sitting on the couch, Boobers and Smella snuggling in my lap, Smella declares that she likes her baby brother.

"You do?"

"Uh huh. And he likes me!"

"I think he does too. Do you think we should keep him?"

"Yep."

"Should we throw him in the trash?"

"No!" Complete with horrified expression.

"Okay, no trash. Should we give him to C (a close friend of mine that Smella adores)?"

"Yes!"

"But I thought we were keeping him! Why do you want to give him to C?"

"C likes him too! We could share!"

Okay, okay. I guess maybe Barney isn't all that bad. Just look at the lessons she's learned already!