Start: 6:00pm
School starts in two weeks. I know this not because I have bothered to look at my calendar, but because I have that itch to organize, like with folders and files and bulletin boards. And charts. I've got the taste for more predictable days, regular dinner times, routines that though... routine make me feel all cozy and mommy-like.
****
I want to start yoga again. Or find a pick-up soccer team. Or maybe try pilates (which my sister pronounces "pie-lates:" she also has called aspartame -- "ass-par-tuh-may").
Just like the promises I used to make that I would keep my binder perfectly ship-shape, I make similar promises in late summer that I will get all ship-shape. So I sign up for classes that I will neglect to attend.
****
Phone rings. Ignore it. Listen to message. Move on.
****
The Man on the Radio has pissed me off so much that I have given up on swaying him with my super mental telepathy: he obviously is not getting my "i hate you i hate you" ESP-ish messages.
****
R and the GFYO are obsessed with baths. The Kid tossed them in the other day with about half the bottle of Tired Old Ass Soak and they smelled like dirty hippies for a solid 24 hours. Patchouli is no place for children.
They're in the tub as I type, which pretty much explains the "****". Every time I insert a "****" I am yelling at them to cool it, stop it, shut it off.
****
The Short Drunk People have recently discovered Legos. After nine years of no one touching the things, it is now Lego Love up in here. They build to their personalities: B makes houses with walkways and flower boxes, R makes ultra-modern homes with big garages, and the GFYO makes multi-functional vehicles ("it's a boat and a plane and a car and a robot and a dog and it can rocket and it can spin and it shoots"). It is relatively quiet when they are building. I like it. I do not like picking up Legos. So I don't.
****
Also, why should some televangelist "spiritual" person be hosting a "conversation" with any candidate for anything? And was that really a sound-proof booth? A "cone of silence"? Shut the fuck up! Is this a game show or a fucking election? I am so over politics right now, I can taste the apathy.
****
ARE YOU ACTUALLY WASHING? This is soap; use it. Yeah, yes, I do love it: I love that hairstyle. Now wash! And KEEP THE WATER IN THE TUB! Silently, to self: for fuck's sake...
****
Phone rings. Will call her back. Make mental note to email friend about PTO consignment store volunteer hours.
****
B is busy making yet another Lego dream house. When she asks me what color the bedside tables should be if one bed is red and the other is blue and the table lamp is green, I consider the dilemma with great seriousness until I remember it is a Lego dream house and then I say "um? white?" but what I really mean to say is "you are brilliant and beautiful and funny and kind and I think you can choose for yourself." So I add, "whatever you decide will be great" to which she says "uuugh! can't you just help me?"
****
I have two PTO meetings this week. I've tried to remember where I left my xanax smarty pants giant PTO binder, and then remembered, I never had one. It's a good thing that no one really wants to be president of the PTO or else I would surely be impeached. I think my first act will be to ban three ring binders from all meetings.
****
STOP IT! That's enough!!! TURN THE WATER OFF! NOW!
****
And also, if we're supposed to care what the candidates play on their Ipods (or 8 tracks as the case may be), I think it should be one of those sweet mash-ups. I'm thinking equal parts "Peace Love and Understanding," "Bad to the Bone", "This Land is Your Land", "Blue Suede Shoes, "Wichita Lineman," "Three Feet High and Rising," "I Am Woman" and for good measure and good luck, "Imagine".
Make mental note to figure out how to actually do a mash-up. Imagine my life as internet celebrity.
****
R comes to me wrapped in a towel to let me know that the GFYO has some "bad poops" and "um you need to go" and then she throws me this "I shit you not" look and so I know it is serious. And it is. And I am sparing the details but what a sad little image of the GFYO trying to clean up the mess (butt nekkid of course) (soaking wet) and I tell him not to worry and I'll take over and what a nice little GFYO he is. And he says his tummy hurts and I say I figured as much and he says that's why I didn't eat my dinner and I say yes that IS why, poor little GFYO and he says but if I don't get any dessert I am not going to be happy at all.
I shit you not.
End: 7:30pm
Monday, August 18, 2008
LiveBlogging the Witching Hour
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15commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
try pilates--it rules.
Loved the whole thing. Very entertaining. I am quite sure pilates rules but I am a yoga girl myself and if you ever want to take a class, I teach not that far away. You think about it. And btw, love the whole summer thing but I'm so ready for school. It's time.
Sadly when the thoughts get all frazzeld out like that and have no direct relationship and get inturrupted a bazillion times by the bathtime it totally makes more sense to me.
Sending you pretend internet No. 2 pencils to celebrate your end of summer.
I'm not that brilliant bc I was thinking you were a PA girl for a sec. Still, yoga's cool too,
Five people spending every waking minute together is not good for anyone! We ALL need to go back to school!
And I don't know about you, but I'm way more interested in what Michael Phelps has on his ipod than I am with those Washington types!
Something motivated that guy to 8 gold medals...I could use some of that!
Yo back atcha! Thanks for the blog comments! I'm pretty sure I'm close by, I'm in a Massachusetts not so small coastal town.
Little bit of Lego help...my kids always played with them on an old blanket. That way, when they were finished, I could just fold the blanket in half, like a giant, square taco, and empty the Legos back into the big tub we kept them in. And, we called them 'bad poops' at our house, too.
pilates is the bomb.
legos fuck up my feet.
too many poop-in-the-tub episodes to count.
my GFYO misses the K-cutoff by 11 DAYS this year. FUCK ME.
add some hard core baby lust in there--hello WTF is wrong with me?
Think I'll go have another G&T and call it good.
Check ya. ;-)
And I was all wondering what could possibly be keeping you from a new post. So now I feel somewhat responsible. Not responsible enough to come help you clean up after GFYO, but enough to sign up for a yoga class with you and then not go because we decide to go shopping at Target and/or drink beer instead.
Televangelist interviewing a candidate: live oxymoron show.
What does GFYO stand for?
GFYO -- Giant Four Year Old. The Kid -- the Husband. B & R -- the 9 and 7 year old girls. Short Drunk People -- the kids.
I could feel a Primer coming but that might seem pretentious ala Black Hockey Jesus. Who I adore.
Man, why did I just feel the same way I do when I watch "Jon & Kate Plus 8?"
School starts in two days here and I've already spent over $300.00 dollars on supplies. That's at least 3 Wilco concerts!! Blogged about the Virgin Fest. with Tweedy, btw.
Anyway, my spousal unit--you know the guy I'm estranged from--no one else knows just yet... has never, ever said anything about my blog.
But the other day, he admitted reading the comments and said this one made him laugh out loud:
I'm sitting here surrounded by the children who follow me around like i am their mother or something, waiting for more rain to fall and avoiding cooking dinner. which is to say i am sick with jealousy.
I think he likes you!!!
OMG, my kids have had a buttload of Legos in this house since they were born. I swear. They've just this summer discovered them like they unearthed gold under the pile of other toys they have, and it's literally Legos here 24/7. When they're not building stuff, they're online looking for plans to build stuff. I swore I didn't need to buy anymore, for we have a ton. Alas, the oldest has a birthday tomorrow. He's getting Legos.
My mom says quesadilla like kay-say-dill-a (like the grandma in Napoleon Dynamite), and my sister says 'suposebly' instead of supposedly. Both do this no matter how many times I correct them.
This was a really long comment just to say I loved this post. It's my freakin' life!
oh NOOOOOOO! now i am reading your blog incessantly when i am supposed to be (and have been supposed to be for the past THREE WEEKS) writing a Very Important Textbook Chapter on Very Important Medical Issues. smart ladies of the interwebs, you have foiled my productivity again!
(but seriously, i think i love you too.)
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