It's Day 4, I know.
Day 2, entitled "Wobbers Turns Ten", or "How to Survive a Decade":
Sleep Fail.
Mommy Fail.
Patience Fail.
No one was happier than me when that day was over. Of course, I still wasn't very happy when Day 3 started.
Day 2 began by my children decided 7 am was proper wake up time (after months, months I tell you, of 9-10 am wake ups) and ended after midnight with no nap for mama. Daylight savings time - Curse You!!
Day 3:
7 am. Wake up again. Ten year old Saint takes babies to basement for movie. Mama sleeps for another hour.
Nice playdate at friend's house. Discuss sleep issues, of which she's had her fair share. Feel less like a "Fail".
Decide, with her help, that if kids are going to get up at 7 they can go to bed at 7 too.
End up with one asleep by 7:15, the other just after 8.
Day 4:
Things looking up. Babies sleep till 8. Flower throws up in bed, I think just from coughing too hard with a dry throat. Day moves on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I just wish my husband was home. I need to clean and the motivation level is low.
I am also going to make a plea to you fellow bloggers/readers:
Anybody out there got Blue's Clues tapes, specifically "Blue's Birthday" and "Magenta Comes Over" and a long lost Blue Christmas special where Steve sings about snowing??
Our tapes broke (our broken old VCR ate them, so we got a new VCR but the tapes are bye-bye) and it has been a sad time without them. I'd pay ya for shipping if you had one you'd be willing to give us.
:)
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
A sure cure for a sour stomach.....
Peppermint and chamomile tea sweetened with honey.
Of course, my 9 year old (who is celebrating his very last day of single digit age ever!) Thinks it's "nasty". But, he's drinking it anyway.
Smelled so good I made myself a cup too!
Of course, my 9 year old (who is celebrating his very last day of single digit age ever!) Thinks it's "nasty". But, he's drinking it anyway.
Smelled so good I made myself a cup too!
Day 1
My husband is gone this month for "school" for work. He left last night around 6 to drive the two hours to his hotel and find the school.
It sucks.
As a general rule, we do not ever spend nights apart. The kids also, particularly my 3 year old who has been sleeping on "Daddy's arm" for the last two year, are not happy he's gone.
Being extremely sick and dealing with nausea and horrible headaches is not helping the situation.
In fact, less than 5 minutes ago, I just lost my Ramon Noodle lunch down the toilet.
I feel a little like a sorry, complaining, sick little mama who just can't keep it together (or in my stomach for that matter).
It sucks.
As a general rule, we do not ever spend nights apart. The kids also, particularly my 3 year old who has been sleeping on "Daddy's arm" for the last two year, are not happy he's gone.
Being extremely sick and dealing with nausea and horrible headaches is not helping the situation.
In fact, less than 5 minutes ago, I just lost my Ramon Noodle lunch down the toilet.
I feel a little like a sorry, complaining, sick little mama who just can't keep it together (or in my stomach for that matter).
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Quick update...but isn't that all I've come to anyway?
This is a badly neglected blog. I appologize. Between nausea, poopy diapers, and watching Veggie Tales and Cars repeatedly there hasn't been much else left.
Oh sure, I *think* about blogging all the time. Especially as I read all the wonderful words all of the rest of you have to say. I have even found a few new favorites, as I am notorious for clicking on other blog's commentor's links to find new writers.
I did manage to finish a baby sweater. As soon as I can get myself to a computer instead of this mini-blackberry screen I will show you.
I have been thinking about baby names - which is leading me to read my bible. (Are you supposed to capitalize "bible"? Always wonder.) I really like Jeremiah - for a name I mean. I also like Micah, although I am sure I will lose that battle.
Truth be told though, it would be darn nice if this baby was a little girl. Not that I wouldn't just adore a boy, but I've had two boys and one girl and I'd sure love another.
I just hope (and I know you're reading this C. so don't think I'm trying to be pessimistic, just a thought that's crossed my mind, honestly) - anyway, I hope to not have to name her after my dead best friend. My best friend has breast cancer, Stage 3 or possibly 4. Surgery was last week. It all has been very quick, sudden, especially for her family. She found a lump one day, had a mammogram, was diagnosed, had surgery, and just got her pathology results all in a about two weeks. Pray for her. (I love you dear.)
Up against that, I feel silly for complaining about being sick. I'm 10 1/2 weeks along. Any day now I could feel better.
Oh sure, I *think* about blogging all the time. Especially as I read all the wonderful words all of the rest of you have to say. I have even found a few new favorites, as I am notorious for clicking on other blog's commentor's links to find new writers.
I did manage to finish a baby sweater. As soon as I can get myself to a computer instead of this mini-blackberry screen I will show you.
I have been thinking about baby names - which is leading me to read my bible. (Are you supposed to capitalize "bible"? Always wonder.) I really like Jeremiah - for a name I mean. I also like Micah, although I am sure I will lose that battle.
Truth be told though, it would be darn nice if this baby was a little girl. Not that I wouldn't just adore a boy, but I've had two boys and one girl and I'd sure love another.
I just hope (and I know you're reading this C. so don't think I'm trying to be pessimistic, just a thought that's crossed my mind, honestly) - anyway, I hope to not have to name her after my dead best friend. My best friend has breast cancer, Stage 3 or possibly 4. Surgery was last week. It all has been very quick, sudden, especially for her family. She found a lump one day, had a mammogram, was diagnosed, had surgery, and just got her pathology results all in a about two weeks. Pray for her. (I love you dear.)
Up against that, I feel silly for complaining about being sick. I'm 10 1/2 weeks along. Any day now I could feel better.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I can do whatever I want on my blog. Even complain.
Yep. That's right. I am going to complain.
**Disclaimer: I am very happy to be alive. I have many good things in my life - a wonderful and loving husband who has steady and gainful employmebt AND does dishes and laundry, healthy children, heat, a roof over my head, two working vehicles, good friends, faith, etc. By no means am I discrediting any of these and other wonderful aspects of my life. I am thankful for my blessings.**
Carrying on.
This week has sucked. Sucked a big one. I know that really isn't a very creative use of the mass vocabulary I have available to use, but it's all I got left.
Since last Friday:
Boys cutting and splitting wood. Throw wood in back of truck. Teeny, tiny piece of wood makes it through grill protecting back window. Window shatters. More falls off each time we shut the door.
Meeting with Guardian Ad Litem (GAL) in custody case falls through. Because - he is sick but doesn't bother to call and tell anyone. I arrange childcare, in a snow storm, lose control of my car and end up in a ditch, borrow a friend's car, and still manage to make it there on time only to be told, "See, the thing is, Andy's sick." WTF! And you just figured this out 5 minutes ago? What, you lawyer people with secretaries can't pick up the effin' phone??!! What I said outloud was, "Completely Unprofessional."
Nausea is so bad I can't cook, clean, or eat. I don't even want to knit. I know. I lnow.
Yesterday, boys cutting wood. Son gets hand crushed in log splitter. Drive 1/2 hour to hospital. Prayers lead to good ending. Only 1 finger hurt, bone chipped, drill a hole in fingernail (ewww!), bandage up. Leave. Stop for dinner. Boy asks for puppy. Endured "People of Walmart" stares while at hospital and dinner. Left house without getting dressed. No bra. Tie-dyed nightshirt. Too big pants. Hippy shoes and stripey socks. No shoes on little kids, but they did have coats. Hair not brushed. Teeth and breath bad.
Putting chopped onions into a pan with olive oil resulted in a hot drop of oil flying out of the pan INTO MY EYE. I don't know how, but my eyelid shut and I just got a burn on the lid, and not my actiual eyeball.
I wasn't wearing my glasses because my one-year had seriously smudged then in the previous hour while I tried to get him to sleep. My efforts were fruitless. He ended up biting me on the inside of my thigh.
Today, same child got a hold of a can of soda and threw it. It exploded and spewed all over my living room and kitchen.
Ok. I'm done.
If you want to read a real blog post, go visit Candy over at Candy Rant (see sidebar, can't get a link right now). She had a good one about embarrassment. I left a comment that I could have made a post about - but I didn't. Said week has been too sucky.
Come back next time for something more cheery.
**Disclaimer: I am very happy to be alive. I have many good things in my life - a wonderful and loving husband who has steady and gainful employmebt AND does dishes and laundry, healthy children, heat, a roof over my head, two working vehicles, good friends, faith, etc. By no means am I discrediting any of these and other wonderful aspects of my life. I am thankful for my blessings.**
Carrying on.
This week has sucked. Sucked a big one. I know that really isn't a very creative use of the mass vocabulary I have available to use, but it's all I got left.
Since last Friday:
Boys cutting and splitting wood. Throw wood in back of truck. Teeny, tiny piece of wood makes it through grill protecting back window. Window shatters. More falls off each time we shut the door.
Meeting with Guardian Ad Litem (GAL) in custody case falls through. Because - he is sick but doesn't bother to call and tell anyone. I arrange childcare, in a snow storm, lose control of my car and end up in a ditch, borrow a friend's car, and still manage to make it there on time only to be told, "See, the thing is, Andy's sick." WTF! And you just figured this out 5 minutes ago? What, you lawyer people with secretaries can't pick up the effin' phone??!! What I said outloud was, "Completely Unprofessional."
Nausea is so bad I can't cook, clean, or eat. I don't even want to knit. I know. I lnow.
Yesterday, boys cutting wood. Son gets hand crushed in log splitter. Drive 1/2 hour to hospital. Prayers lead to good ending. Only 1 finger hurt, bone chipped, drill a hole in fingernail (ewww!), bandage up. Leave. Stop for dinner. Boy asks for puppy. Endured "People of Walmart" stares while at hospital and dinner. Left house without getting dressed. No bra. Tie-dyed nightshirt. Too big pants. Hippy shoes and stripey socks. No shoes on little kids, but they did have coats. Hair not brushed. Teeth and breath bad.
Putting chopped onions into a pan with olive oil resulted in a hot drop of oil flying out of the pan INTO MY EYE. I don't know how, but my eyelid shut and I just got a burn on the lid, and not my actiual eyeball.
I wasn't wearing my glasses because my one-year had seriously smudged then in the previous hour while I tried to get him to sleep. My efforts were fruitless. He ended up biting me on the inside of my thigh.
Today, same child got a hold of a can of soda and threw it. It exploded and spewed all over my living room and kitchen.
Ok. I'm done.
If you want to read a real blog post, go visit Candy over at Candy Rant (see sidebar, can't get a link right now). She had a good one about embarrassment. I left a comment that I could have made a post about - but I didn't. Said week has been too sucky.
Come back next time for something more cheery.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Eat. Sleep. Knit.
This is my favorite new online yarn shop. $5 shipping, or free shipping on orders over $75. Seriously.
And you know right away if they have the yarn you want in stock or not - which I love. How do I know? Because when you click on "add to cart" it tells you right away....."We do not have that quanity of yarn - we only have 2 of that item" or whatever they have. You don't have to wonder if you're going to get an email later telling you that they only have have 1 skein of the yarn in that you ordered 7 skeins of, and would you mind getting the other 6 skeins in 2-12 weeks??. Anywho....
They also have a "yarnathon", which is a yarn marathon. They keep track of how much yardage you buy and you get prizes and discounts and stuff when you hit milestones, like 1 mile, 5 k, 10 k, half marathon, etc. It's pretty cool.
And, if you visit their store from my link (which I may just be adding a link to the sidebar as well) then I get more yardage. So go see. It's awesome!!
And you know right away if they have the yarn you want in stock or not - which I love. How do I know? Because when you click on "add to cart" it tells you right away....."We do not have that quanity of yarn - we only have 2 of that item" or whatever they have. You don't have to wonder if you're going to get an email later telling you that they only have have 1 skein of the yarn in that you ordered 7 skeins of, and would you mind getting the other 6 skeins in 2-12 weeks??. Anywho....
They also have a "yarnathon", which is a yarn marathon. They keep track of how much yardage you buy and you get prizes and discounts and stuff when you hit milestones, like 1 mile, 5 k, 10 k, half marathon, etc. It's pretty cool.
And, if you visit their store from my link (which I may just be adding a link to the sidebar as well) then I get more yardage. So go see. It's awesome!!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Quickie Friday
No, not *that* kind of quickie, sheesh.
Although, as married business goes, I think planning a day a week to engage in the sacramental act of matrimony gives both parties involved something to look forward to. Just sayin'.
Randomness:
** I have finally joined the sleeves and body of the sweater that will never die, aka The Husband Sweater, all on one needle. 15 stitches from each sleeve and 30 stitches from the body have been placed on waste yarn to graft the underarms later. That leaves 470 stitches on the needles. Four hundred seventy. Each Round. Howy cwap.
** Today is the first official day of me having all-day-sickness of this pregnancy. I am trying to look at the bright side (yes, there is a reason for "morning sickness") which is that my body and my baby are doing extremely well if I am feeling sick. It is a sign that the hormones are all turned on and the baby is growing well. Oh, that and I am now in for a 15 lb. weight loss over the next two months. I've got it to lose, so I guess it's fine. Although in a "professional" opinion, one should not be losing weight AT ALL during pregnancy. Previous pregnancies tell me I will anyway. I always do.
** I hate to share this, but maybe it will help someone else feel more normal if the truth is out there in print.
I have not showered in 6 days. I look like hell. While I was sleeping last night, I finally realized that there is a very special smell about me. I didn't even bother getting dressed yesterday and even though it is noon today I still have yet to get dressed today.
Having toddlers does not help. I cannot get 1/2 an hour just to run some hot water over me and be alone. Someone always needs something and it seems my needs, no matter how basic, are getting ignored.
** I have not left my house, even to walk outside, in 5 days.
This is probably a good thing if you consider the previous point.
** Okay, honestly, while in the midst of typing this my husband requested some food at work. So now I have left the house. But it wasn't pretty. Let me paint you a picture:
I made his food and packed it up. I called and informed him I would not be entering the building and he would be required to venture to my vehicle to retrieve his lunch/dinner.
My first time out of the house and I have on: a pair of winter boots, calf length, untied with no socks; a baggy pair of cloth black pants; a tie-dyed men's 2XL Hanes V-neck undershirt (I can't believe I just typed that); and a dried-snot-covered, machine-knit, too small to button over my boobs cardigan/sweater. Really. Oh, and hair that had been unbrushed for 6 days. But I pu it in a pony-tail. That's like a shower? Right?
AND I have to get a pack of diapers out of my husband's truck (that he was supposed to bring in before he left).
I get to the county building my husband works in and pull up to his truck. I look awful. I put my car in park, take out the keys, and approach the truck. Of course, OF COURSE, one of the county maintainence guys who plows the roads or something is standing RIGHT THERE, shoveling snow off the walkway. Ugh. Great. But I need the diapers. He smiles politely and waves. I smile back. I think he's trying to hide a laugh. I hope he doesn't know who's truck this is.
I drive around to the other side of the building and park in between the cop cars. Geez there are a lot of them here today. I call my husband and he says he'll be right out. Mr. Polite snow shoveler is now on this side of the building. I avoid eye contact at all costs.
My husband finally makes it out, takes his lunch, kisses me, and says, "Oh my Gosh! Get the heck outta here. You look like hell!", cracks a crooked grin, and laughs while taking a look at the guy shoveling the snow. I laugh and say, "I told you so," kiss him back and drive off.
Totally embarrassing.
** If I had a D-cup bra before my first pregnancy, was a DD pregnant, nursed in an F, started the next pregnacy (#2) in a DD, was an F pregnant, and nursed in an H-cup, got pregnant with #3 while still nursing, was an I-cup while pregnant, and am currently nursing him in an L-cup and am pregnant again (#4) --- I ask you, are there any letters in the alphabet left for me???
Although, as married business goes, I think planning a day a week to engage in the sacramental act of matrimony gives both parties involved something to look forward to. Just sayin'.
Randomness:
** I have finally joined the sleeves and body of the sweater that will never die, aka The Husband Sweater, all on one needle. 15 stitches from each sleeve and 30 stitches from the body have been placed on waste yarn to graft the underarms later. That leaves 470 stitches on the needles. Four hundred seventy. Each Round. Howy cwap.
** Today is the first official day of me having all-day-sickness of this pregnancy. I am trying to look at the bright side (yes, there is a reason for "morning sickness") which is that my body and my baby are doing extremely well if I am feeling sick. It is a sign that the hormones are all turned on and the baby is growing well. Oh, that and I am now in for a 15 lb. weight loss over the next two months. I've got it to lose, so I guess it's fine. Although in a "professional" opinion, one should not be losing weight AT ALL during pregnancy. Previous pregnancies tell me I will anyway. I always do.
** I hate to share this, but maybe it will help someone else feel more normal if the truth is out there in print.
I have not showered in 6 days. I look like hell. While I was sleeping last night, I finally realized that there is a very special smell about me. I didn't even bother getting dressed yesterday and even though it is noon today I still have yet to get dressed today.
Having toddlers does not help. I cannot get 1/2 an hour just to run some hot water over me and be alone. Someone always needs something and it seems my needs, no matter how basic, are getting ignored.
** I have not left my house, even to walk outside, in 5 days.
This is probably a good thing if you consider the previous point.
** Okay, honestly, while in the midst of typing this my husband requested some food at work. So now I have left the house. But it wasn't pretty. Let me paint you a picture:
I made his food and packed it up. I called and informed him I would not be entering the building and he would be required to venture to my vehicle to retrieve his lunch/dinner.
My first time out of the house and I have on: a pair of winter boots, calf length, untied with no socks; a baggy pair of cloth black pants; a tie-dyed men's 2XL Hanes V-neck undershirt (I can't believe I just typed that); and a dried-snot-covered, machine-knit, too small to button over my boobs cardigan/sweater. Really. Oh, and hair that had been unbrushed for 6 days. But I pu it in a pony-tail. That's like a shower? Right?
AND I have to get a pack of diapers out of my husband's truck (that he was supposed to bring in before he left).
I get to the county building my husband works in and pull up to his truck. I look awful. I put my car in park, take out the keys, and approach the truck. Of course, OF COURSE, one of the county maintainence guys who plows the roads or something is standing RIGHT THERE, shoveling snow off the walkway. Ugh. Great. But I need the diapers. He smiles politely and waves. I smile back. I think he's trying to hide a laugh. I hope he doesn't know who's truck this is.
I drive around to the other side of the building and park in between the cop cars. Geez there are a lot of them here today. I call my husband and he says he'll be right out. Mr. Polite snow shoveler is now on this side of the building. I avoid eye contact at all costs.
My husband finally makes it out, takes his lunch, kisses me, and says, "Oh my Gosh! Get the heck outta here. You look like hell!", cracks a crooked grin, and laughs while taking a look at the guy shoveling the snow. I laugh and say, "I told you so," kiss him back and drive off.
Totally embarrassing.
** If I had a D-cup bra before my first pregnancy, was a DD pregnant, nursed in an F, started the next pregnacy (#2) in a DD, was an F pregnant, and nursed in an H-cup, got pregnant with #3 while still nursing, was an I-cup while pregnant, and am currently nursing him in an L-cup and am pregnant again (#4) --- I ask you, are there any letters in the alphabet left for me???
Saturday, January 16, 2010
What was I thinking??
When I wrapped my mind around our wonderful news last week, I was all too thrilled and excited (and surprised!). "Wow," I thought. "He chose me again! He must really think we're doing a good job! What a wonderful blessing and testament to our marriage!"
I thought of itty-bitty-knitting, cuddling a newborn again, the warm nuzzle of nighttime with a babe at my breast...you get the picture. I daydreamed about a beautiful labor and a glorious, hormone esclated post-partum period. I wondered at the love my children would have for this new helpless sibling as they carefully covered us with blankies when we fell asleep on the couch.
Now, as I sit here typing with one thumb while I nurse my baby through the pain of his molars, I can't help but feel, well, helpless. What was I thinking?!
"God thinks I'm doing a good job!" Yeah?! Right?!
This isn't what I wanted. I was just begining to enjoy the occasional 1/2 spent in my bed alone with my husband. We haven't even had a real "date" since the last baby has been here.
And My Lovey. I really wanted more time for just he and I. Me and him (yes, bad grammar, I know). He's just a BABY, for Pete's sake. How am I supposed to explain this all to him?
And really, who am I kidding about doing such a great job? I have the shortest temper ever lately. I feel completely overwhelmed just trying to care for the children outside of my womb now, let alone when this baby increases their ranks on me. I don't have the slightest idea *what* I'm doing, let alone how to accomplish it all.
The never ending assault of laundry, dishes, and diapers is making my head swim. Not to mention the constant voice in my head reminding me to "eat right", which I just don't have time for, but which I know I need.
I am obsessing and worrying about everything. I know too much about pregnancy and giving advice that I am literally bursting with information that I know I am too stuck in my ways to follow, even though I will probably feel better if I do.
My children are bouncing off the walls, just tempting me to raise my voice at every turn. My kids depend on me for everything. My husband depends on me. I've got midwifery school, patients, homework. A house to run, homeschooling to manage. In the next few years, I am going to be completely reaponsible for teaching a real person to read.
I bet my older ones and husband are expecting a meal when they come in from chopping wood all day. Who is going to do all the cooking? I'm just going to get tired and sick.
My hands are already going numb at night, and I threw up the other morning.
My Flower sits at my feet and says, "Mama - I need jew."
Who is going to comfort me?
What *was* I thinking? Sheesh.
I thought of itty-bitty-knitting, cuddling a newborn again, the warm nuzzle of nighttime with a babe at my breast...you get the picture. I daydreamed about a beautiful labor and a glorious, hormone esclated post-partum period. I wondered at the love my children would have for this new helpless sibling as they carefully covered us with blankies when we fell asleep on the couch.
Now, as I sit here typing with one thumb while I nurse my baby through the pain of his molars, I can't help but feel, well, helpless. What was I thinking?!
"God thinks I'm doing a good job!" Yeah?! Right?!
This isn't what I wanted. I was just begining to enjoy the occasional 1/2 spent in my bed alone with my husband. We haven't even had a real "date" since the last baby has been here.
And My Lovey. I really wanted more time for just he and I. Me and him (yes, bad grammar, I know). He's just a BABY, for Pete's sake. How am I supposed to explain this all to him?
And really, who am I kidding about doing such a great job? I have the shortest temper ever lately. I feel completely overwhelmed just trying to care for the children outside of my womb now, let alone when this baby increases their ranks on me. I don't have the slightest idea *what* I'm doing, let alone how to accomplish it all.
The never ending assault of laundry, dishes, and diapers is making my head swim. Not to mention the constant voice in my head reminding me to "eat right", which I just don't have time for, but which I know I need.
I am obsessing and worrying about everything. I know too much about pregnancy and giving advice that I am literally bursting with information that I know I am too stuck in my ways to follow, even though I will probably feel better if I do.
My children are bouncing off the walls, just tempting me to raise my voice at every turn. My kids depend on me for everything. My husband depends on me. I've got midwifery school, patients, homework. A house to run, homeschooling to manage. In the next few years, I am going to be completely reaponsible for teaching a real person to read.
I bet my older ones and husband are expecting a meal when they come in from chopping wood all day. Who is going to do all the cooking? I'm just going to get tired and sick.
My hands are already going numb at night, and I threw up the other morning.
My Flower sits at my feet and says, "Mama - I need jew."
Who is going to comfort me?
What *was* I thinking? Sheesh.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Yarn Whore
I have an incurable need for knitting. And talking about knitting. And writing about knitting. And thinking about knitting. And dreaming about knitting (yes, I dream about knitting, usually when there is a complicated pattern I need to work out). And blogging about knitting.
Do I need a blog devoted just to knitting? Am I boring my dear, non-knitting readers every time I talk about yarn, gauge, yarn, needles, and yarn? Do you feel like it just doesn't pertain? Is it distracting you from my Catholic, stay-at-home-mom, catching-catching-babies-on-the-side, pro-life, hate Obama, new conversion, Harry Potter loving blog?
Do I need a blog devoted just to knitting? Am I boring my dear, non-knitting readers every time I talk about yarn, gauge, yarn, needles, and yarn? Do you feel like it just doesn't pertain? Is it distracting you from my Catholic, stay-at-home-mom, catching-catching-babies-on-the-side, pro-life, hate Obama, new conversion, Harry Potter loving blog?
Crack Dealer
https://sockclub.bluemoonfiberarts.com/
This is that which I COVET. If I had the money I'd totally do it.
And remember, that's for a whole year. A WHOLE YEAR. $235. That's less than $20/month. Less than $5/week. Less than $1/day. Less than 5 cents/hour - for pure, uncut, blissful, wonderful therapy/entertainment/crack. I mean, you just can't beat that. (Therapy is at least $2.50/minute.)
Really. It's a bargain.
This is that which I COVET. If I had the money I'd totally do it.
And remember, that's for a whole year. A WHOLE YEAR. $235. That's less than $20/month. Less than $5/week. Less than $1/day. Less than 5 cents/hour - for pure, uncut, blissful, wonderful therapy/entertainment/crack. I mean, you just can't beat that. (Therapy is at least $2.50/minute.)
Really. It's a bargain.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Quiet Here
I realize it's been a better part of a week and I have not posted, despite my continuing promises of knitting pictures and a conversion story.
I am still here, just not getting to the real internet with a real computer.
In fact, I am typing this post at a wayside on a back highway road, with my blackberry (sorry for those typos), waiting for my husband's ex-wife to show up with our daughter.
I am a bit angry, irritated, and mad. I do not know why I let this sorry excuse for a mother bother me. But I do. I try to be grqcious. I think, "I should pray for her.". I do sometimes. But I still feel like killing thing everytime I have to interact with her.
It's as though all the puppies have lost their cuteness. Her stupidity has sucked all the sparkles out of the rainbow -they've deflated to little dried up pieces of fruit snacks, the generic ones where they all have they same crappy flavor even though they're all different shades of yuk.
Not to mention that she's late and she thinks she's doing us a favor.
She is a piece of mashed up kid chewed pig guts.
Can you tell I don't like her?
Oh! Here she is. Yeah.
I am still here, just not getting to the real internet with a real computer.
In fact, I am typing this post at a wayside on a back highway road, with my blackberry (sorry for those typos), waiting for my husband's ex-wife to show up with our daughter.
I am a bit angry, irritated, and mad. I do not know why I let this sorry excuse for a mother bother me. But I do. I try to be grqcious. I think, "I should pray for her.". I do sometimes. But I still feel like killing thing everytime I have to interact with her.
It's as though all the puppies have lost their cuteness. Her stupidity has sucked all the sparkles out of the rainbow -they've deflated to little dried up pieces of fruit snacks, the generic ones where they all have they same crappy flavor even though they're all different shades of yuk.
Not to mention that she's late and she thinks she's doing us a favor.
She is a piece of mashed up kid chewed pig guts.
Can you tell I don't like her?
Oh! Here she is. Yeah.
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