All fired up and nothing to fight for

Remember that IEP meeting I had yesterday? The one where I was all prepared to go in fighting for what I thought Joseph needed? Well, I marched into that meeting all fired up and ready to go. I sat down at that table full of people and in my firmest, most confident voice I said "I want cursive dropped from Joseph's curriculum!"

Joseph's teacher and IEP case manager glanced at each other and said "Yes. We agree. We were already thinking that."

"Oh" I said, my firm, confident voice faltering. "Well then. Ok. I also want him to ...."

"Learn to use a keyboard?" they asked. "We already thought of that. And to have summer school? And access to a separate dining area at lunch from him and hs friends so that he's not overwhelmed by the noise of the lunchroom? And to continue adaptive phy. ed. services while remaining in his regular gym class? And to have meetings once a week with our special education counselor to help him deal proactively with any issues or anxieties that come up for him? And to have continued access to a shared paraprofessional?"

"Yes please." I said. "All of that thank you."

And then I quietly snuck out of the room before anyone could change their mind.

I am beyond happy with how the meeting went. We are so lucky to have people on Joseph's team who really see his needs and recognize how to best meet them. I can't come up with a single complaint about that meeting, everything went better than I could have hoped for.

Well, I guess I have one complaint. I had all this nervous energy built up over this meeting and it all turned out to be for nothing. Now I'm all fired up with no where to go. All this wasted energy is making me irritable. (Also making me irritable is the fact that there's a blizzard going on outside on a day I have appointments scattered all across town.) I'm in the mood to kick ass and I have no ass to kick. Anyone need any asses kicked? Preferably in warm, blizzard-free climates? I'm free later today.

Seriously. You would be doing me and the people around me a favor.

One year ago today I shared funny avatar with you and it looks like it was snowing that day too.

Cursive, shmursive

I have an IEP meeting at Joseph's school today. My plan to ask them to drop cursive writing all together. I also want to ask that he instead be allowed to work on a keyboard practicing proper finger placement during the time other kids are working on cursive. Typing is a skill that he will get far more use out of than cursive so it seems like a logical replacement. For me it does anyway. I hope the people at the school agree with me.

We've been very lucky when it comes to getting Joseph what he needs on his IEP. We've never faced a battle to get him services. I have heard some real IEP horror stories but we've never had anything like that. I think part of it is that Joseph is extremely high functioning and that his needs don't require a ton of accommodating. In fact, most of what's on Joseph's current IEP is stuff that people on Joseph's "team" at school have suggested. I just hope that they're receptive to change like this. I think it's the best thing for Joseph and I hope they can see that too.

Keep your fingers crossed that my boy gets what he needs.

Two years ago today I loved boobies. A lot.
Three years ago today I continued my quest to become the the most boring mommy blogger ever.
Four years ago today some crazy bitch suggested I name my child Coco Cabana.

It's good to have a brother

I was having a pretty crummy day a little while back and I found myself on Facebook talking it out with my brother. It was amazingly therapeutic. Especially this part of the conversation:

Ben: I hope everything sparkles for you.
Me: Aw! Ben! I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Ben: Really?
Me: Yes.
Ben: What about the time I hugged you really briefly at the airport.
Me: Yeah, and there was that one time you patted me on the back really quickly.
Ben: I think that time I was actually trying to punch you in the arm but I missed.

It's good to have a brother.

One year ago today I was interviewed for a magazine.
Three years ago today my children sprayed various liquids all over my house.
Four years ago today Joseph was poetic about vomit.

True friends help you give birth - Part III

For the rest of my pregnancy I didn't see much of Jen. We got together once to discuss my birth plan but that was about it. (This was the first time I met Jen's daughter who has since charmed me to such a degree that I have become convinced that that she and Joseph will need to get married some day. Or she can marry Elle. Whatever, I'm open minded. I just want her for my daughter-in-law.)

They day before Little A was born I was at my regular 38 week check-up with my ob. My doctor made my year when he said he would induce me the next day. I was so excited! The next day was Jen's day off at the clinic. She would be able to be there for the birth. Our we'll-make-it-work-if-we-can plan had worked. As I was leaving the exam room I ran into Jen's nurse in the hallway. I snagged her and told her the news and we squealed and jumped up and down. She went and grabbed Jen and then the three of us squealed and jumped up and down.

Jesse and I headed to the hospital early the next morning. Jen arrived shortly after I was hooked up to the pitocin. The three of us played cards for a while until the contractions made it too hard for me to pay attention. (My birth story is here if anyone is interested. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with every detail of it all over again.)

Once the contractions really got painful Jen became my rock. Oh, don't get me wrong. It was wonderful having Jesse there too but it was different with Jen. Maybe because she had been a doula before, maybe because she's a woman who has given birth. All I know is that she always seemed to know exactly what I needed. My back rubbed, my hand held, something comforting and reassuring said. She didn't leave my side for the entire 10 hours or so that I was in labor. When I was pushing a started to panic a little bit she talked me through it. I really credit Jen with letting me have the kind of birth experience that I really wanted.

Immediately after Little A was born I laid back in the hospital bed. I was overwhelmed by emotions. I felt so happy and satisfied and proud and relieved and awed. I looked up at Jen (who was still standing right by me holding my and) and I felt a sudden rush of sadness. I thought "Here's this amazing person that's come into my life and given me an incredible amount of love and support and this short, intense period and now I'm not going to be able to see her anymore. Now that her job is done, our relationship is done too."

Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind I felt Jen give my hand a squeeze. She leaned over, looked me right in the eye and said "This is not over. You and I are not over." Through gulped back sobs I agreed. Yes, we would be friends beyond that day.

And that's exactly what we've done. We've only gotten closer since Little A was born. We talk all the time, we text constantly. We watch each others kids and get our families together for game nights. She has me over to her house for baked goods after old woman scar me and I buy her fake spider webs at the craft store. We have laughed together and cried together and gotten drunk together. She has seen me at my best and at my worst. She puts up with my mood swings and neediness and neurosis and I put up with her ........ I don't' know. I don't have to put up with much. I guess I tolerate her love for brewing beer. There's not much we don't know about each other but we each accept the other for what we are without judgement or condition. Hell, she's seen me naked and even that didn't send her screaming for the hills.

I know I sometimes complain about not having enough friends but I need to try to remind myself of all that I've actually got. I several family members that I am very close to, some of whom even feel like sisters to me. My brother, in spite of being surly and curmudgeonly, is always there for me. I have a few good blog-friends who have enriched my life in ways I would not have imagined possible back when I started this blog.

And I have Jen. I was looking for a friend like her for a long time and instead of finding someone like her, I found her. I am very, very lucky.

One year ago today I mooned a bus full of people.
Three years ago today my blog had a guest poster.
Four years ago today I continued my obsession with pooping while giving birth. This this time with a twist.

True friends help you give birth - Part II

When I was pregnant with Elle I woke up one morning unable to hear out of either ear. "Oh no!" I rationally thought. "I have pregnancy induced deafness!" I made a quick trip to the doctor where I was schooled on how pregnancy can't make you deaf but it can cause huge amounts of wax to build up in your ears which is gross and weird but not nearly as dramatic as what I had imagined.

I was older and wiser when I was pregnant with Little A so I was not too terribly worried when I woke up one morning and found myself unable to hear anything. I was just glad it happened on a day when I had a regular pre-natal check up scheduled.

When I got to the doctor's office I waited and waited and waited to be seen. Finally a nurse came out to the waiting room to tell me the doctor was running behind and would I mind seeing Jen instead? I eagerly replied "JEN?!?! I LOVE JEN!! THAT WOULD BE GREAT!!" (Because when you can't hear anyone you start to think they can't hear you either unless you are very, very loud.)

The nurse gave me a smile that said "Its my job to be compassionate and caring but I'm glad I don't have to deal with you anymore because your reaction freaked me out a little bit" and had me sit back down in the waiting room.

Moments later Jen's nurse came to bring me to an exam room. Here's the funny thing about Jen's nurse. She and I actually used to work together before Jesse and I were married and we were pretty friendly. We hadn't seen each other in years and it was lots of fun catching up. And by catching up I mean I screamed at her about my waxy ears and she marveled over exactly how huge my ass gets when I'm pregnant.

When Jen came into the room we hugged and then I yelled at her about my waxy ears. Considering how much I had liked Jen the first time I met her this wasn't exactly the second impression I wanted to make. "I was so glad to have made your acquaintance! I am gross and produce excess excretions!" Jen was cool as a cucumber though. She didn't even flinch, just set about trying to clean my ears out.

Only she couldn't do it. And if you want to feel awesome try having ears so waxy that even a trained medical professional can't get them clean. "I'm going to get my nurse." Jen muttered.

If you want to feel really awesome have someone you used to be friends with but have not seen for years weigh you and then hold a cup of your pee in their hands. Then have them try to clean out your blocked ears. There is no way to look or feel when cool when you have two people trying to dislodge wax from your ears. (In the interest of full disclosure I have to say that at one point another nurse was called in to consult on the situation. I wish I was kidding.)

At this point I was nearly in tears. Jen and her nurse were being great about the whole thing but I really don't like the center of attention like that. Especially when the reason for all the attention is that my body's byproducts have super-glue powers.

I did what I always do when I am in awkward situations. I joked. Badly. "Haha!" I chuckled weakly to the nurse. "Aren't you glad we get to see each other again? You're learning all kinds of new things about me!"

And to Jen "Who else can you bring in to help that I know? My husbands boss? My old daycare lady? That boy I had a crush on in 4th grade?"

And without missing a beat Jen replied "No, we're going to have him come in for your first cervical check."

And in that instant I knew that I didn't just want Jen to be my doula. I wanted her to be my friend. It's not often that you meet someone who can make you laugh, really laugh, while someone is standing next to you squirting water into your ear to create a kind of earwax soup. And when you do meet a person like that? You find a way to hang onto them.

We all know that friend making is not my strong suit though. It would be several more months until I really felt like Jen and I had become real friends. And all it took was for me to squeeze a person out of my body.

Four years ago today I thought Elle was a boy.

True friends help you give birth - Part I

I have talked about my friend Jen very briefly before on blog but I want to talk about her a little more today. I figure I should balance out some of the whining about not having friends with a story celebrating one of the really amazing friends that I do have.

Jen and I met by accident. She's a nurse midwife at the clinic I had all my pre-natal stuff done at when I was pregnant with Little A. During this time I had been searching for a doula to be there during the birth but I had not been having any luck finding one. In fact, I had even asked at the clinic where Jen works if they knew of any and the people I asked had just given me a blank stare. It's a pretty good bet that if a person has no idea what the word you just used means, they're not going to be able to help too much.

One day my ob was running really behind on appointments and I was asked if I would be willing to see a nurse midwife in his place. At that point I would have seen a janitor if it would have gotten me out of there faster so I agreed. I have to admit that when I heard the word "midwife" I was expecting to see someone who looked like this so I was a little surprised when instead this young, sassy looking redhead walked in. I liked her right away.

Anyone who knows me knows I am a talker and a sharer. Give me two minutes and I've give you my life story. That is, if I know you. If we've just met I'm more likely to stare at you in panic and terror if you try to talk to me. I'm really not so good at meeting new people. Right away though there was something about Jen that made me feel at ease. Two minutes after she walked into the room I was spilling my guts all over the place. I was telling her the sort of stuff that I don't even put on this blog and you know that's got to be personal because, um, hello?

The best part of the conversation came when I told Jen I was having a hard time finding a doula. She was pretty irritated that I was having such a hard time finding someone. Err, not irritated at me, irritated at the people who had refused to help me because I was having a child for a gay couple. See, before Jen became a nurse midwife she was a doula so she understood what an important role a doula can play in a birth. She told me about some places I might have more luck finding a doula and then, to top it all off, gave me her number at the clinic to call in case I needed more help.

Her number. Haha. She didn't know this at the time but I don't call people. Not people I don't know. I won't even call to order a pizza. As I walked out of the clinic that day I held her phone number in my hand and thought to myself "Man, I wish I could have her as my doula." I thought about it all that day and all of the next. Then I did something I never do. I picked up the phone and I called her.

Imagine my surprise and delight when she said that not only would she love to be my doula but that when I left the clinic that day she had been thinking "I wish I could be her doula."

And so it was set. We agreed that she would be my doula ..... if I gave birth while she was not at work. That was ok with me though. I was just happy that there was a chance she would be there. I was happy I had found someone I had clicked with so well. What I didn't know at the time was that the next time I would see Jen, things would not have as happy an outcome.

One year ago today I answered some questions about surrogacy.
Four years ago today I was still worried about pooping while giving birth.

The good, the bad and the downright gross

Yesterday was my four year blogiversary. I didn't even realize it until I was finished with my entry but there you go. It's somewhat poetic that neither my first entry nor my entry four years later got any comments. (I hope that anyone who thought about commenting on my last post instead went and left a comment on Shannon's blog.)

I get fair amount of traffic to this blog. And by fair amount I mean more than the six or so visitors a day I used to get. I get a ton of google hits. Most of the time they're for things like "girl pooping" or "girl problems" or "zicam and breastfeeding" or "detachable penis". I do get hits once in a while that kind of amuse and/or horrify me. A few recent ones are:

story about a girl who causes a problem but then helps to fix the problem and with her help the effets of the problem are reduced in her community and a lesson is learned - I find this one very cute for some reason.

say a girl is 19 and a boy is 13 does the boy need to wear a condom - What the boy needs is the police. Seriously. That's .... wow.

is it common for college students to wear diapers - Sure. If they're super freaky.

girl who poops on the toilet and then feeds there baby out there boobs pictures - Good lord. What an oddly specific fetish.

am i hot if i am fat and eat cake? - As one fattie to another? Yes. Yes you are.

I think I have Assbugers - "don't care about other people don't like people" - I think it's breaking an internet law if you diagnose yourself with something you can't even spell.

oobi on noggin breastfeeding - :o

So you can see why I've kept at this for four years. It's not the four cents a day I make on ads. It's not the avalanche of comments I get on every post. It's not even the knowledge that I am providing a much needed service to the world. (Because if I don't mommy blog, who will?) It's the ability to connect with the freaks that keeps me around. Because if I don't blog how else will I know about your poop fetish?

One year ago today I laughed at earnest people.
Four years ago today I was the most boring person on the face of the planet and I feared pooping while giving birth.

My friend Shannon

Please let me take a minute and let me tell you a little bit about my friend Shannon. Some of you may already know Shannon. She's not exactly a shrinking violet and she's not afraid to let you know exactly what she what she's thinking about any given topic. The size of her mouth is exceeded only by the size of her heart. I say that with love and I know that when she reads that she'll understand. And if she doesn't, she'll let me know. Shannon is the only friend I have who will call me at midnight and start our phone conversation with "Girl, SHUT UP!"

In the past couple years Shannon has been through more loss and tragedy than an entire boatload of people should have to endure in their whole lives. She has lost her son, her home, her health, her sister (in a manner of speaking) and several other family members.

But do you know what happens when you call Shannon? She asks right away "How are you doing?" And she means it. It doesn't matter how minor or silly your problem is compared to everything she's got going on, she really cares about what's happening in your life.

She's funny too. A little while back I called Shannon and I was in tears over some stupid issue or other. Not only did she not tell me to get over myself, she made me feel better. Within minutes she had me laughing over a crazy story about taking her dog to the groomer. She's got a million great stories and loves to share them. In fact, most of the times that we talk on the phone our conversation only comes to an end because my phone is dying.

Right now Shannon and her husband are raising (not just taking care of, but parenting) four young children who's parents are dealing with drug addiction. She does it with a sense of humor, energy and competence that most people would not be able to muster on even their best day.

And Shannon doesn't do it on her best day. She does it all while battling cancer. Cancer that has not responded to chemo. Cancer that is draining her energy and causing her great pain. She doesn't take her pain medication because it interferes with her ability to take care of the kids.

Shannon is not super woman though and right now she's not doing real well. She's fighting and if I know her she will continue to fight but she needs help. Please, send her your love, your prayers, your kind wishes, your good vibes. Those kids need her, her husband needs her, her friends need her. The world is a much better place with her in it. As her husband says "We did not come this far to lose her now."

One year ago today it was Easter.
Two years ago today my first IFs picked their egg donor.
Three years ago today I hated a guy on Top Chef.
Four years ago today I started this blog. Crazy.

Thank you for ruining the word "hobby" for me

As you may know I am working on meeting new people and making new friends. Last night I tried something new and attended a crocheting group at my local craft store. My hope was that there would be at least one person there I could chat with. That was my simple hope. My simple, is-that-really-asking-so-much hope.

For the first half hour of the "group" I was the only one there. I tried to crochet in a friendly looking manner thinking maybe that would lure more people in. When that didn't work I crocheted sullenly. That did the trick. Moments after switching over to sullen mode I was joined by an old lady who smelled of stale Newport cigarettes.

The old lady had a crochet project with her but she didn't work on it very much. Mostly she just talked about her various medical ailments and forced me to look at her scars. You've got to give it up for medical science. It allows someone who's had two strokes, an aneurysm and a fall down two flights of stairs to still be up and waking around and scaring the bejesus out of random strangers.

The defining moment of the evening came when the old lady started to tell me about one of her surgeries. She told me "They split me open from my boobs to my hobby room!"

And when she said "hobby room" she pointed to her crotch.

Then it was time for me to leave.

So last night was a bit of a bust. I didn't meet any new friends and now I can't hear the word "hobby" without a little piece of my soul dying.

One year ago today Joseph got in touch with his past lives.
Two years ago today I was forced to do yet another meme.

The locks! They do nothing!

Before we moved into this house every place Jesse and I ever lived had just one bathroom. This was never a problem for Jesse as he feels perfectly comfortable using the bathroom while I'm showering or showering while I'm using the bathroom. I'm a bit more .... uptight than he is so I've never been totally comfortable with that arrangement.

Joseph has inherited Jesse's comfort with shared bathroom experiences. In fact, he's taken it to the next level. He'll walk right into the bathroom no matter what you're doing. He'll do it for pretty much any reason too. If he has to use the bathroom, if he wants to throw something away, if he's got something to tell you, if he's bored and has nothing else to do. Thanks to his general lack of awareness of the need for personal space and privacy he sees nothing wrong with it and my shrieks of "Joseph! Get out of the bathroom" really don't even seem to faze him.

You can imagine how pleased I was when we found our current home. Two full bathrooms PLUS a toilet in the laundry room. Score! I really figured that once we moved into this house I would never again have someone walk in on me when I'm in the bathroom. Oh, how I underestimated my family.

It turns out that the best bathroom in my house is "whatever bathroom mom is in". The second I walk into a bathroom it becomes the happening place to be. The kids walk right in. "Mommy, can I have candy?" It's like they know I'll agree to whatever is asked just to get three seconds alone on the toilet. (Yes, I realize I could lock the door but our last house didn't have a lock on the bathroom door and now I'm out of the habit.) Jesse's not much better. He doesn't always walk in but he'll stand right outside the door and talk to me. Um, hello? I'm in there making bathroom noises. I might not enjoy the audience.

On the rare occasion I do remember to lock the door it's pretty much an exercise in futility anyway. The other day I locked the door when I went to take a shower. As I washed my hair I heard someone rattle the knob. "Haha!" I thought "I've done it now! No one will be able to enter my fortress of privacy and shampoo!"

Two minutes later the knob rattled again. I ignored it until I realized the door was actually opening. In walked Jesse and Elle. Jesse had popped the lock open so that he and Elle could come in. Because when I lock the door to the bathroom what I really mean is "I still want you to come in, I just want to make it slightly less convenient for you."

What the hell is wrong with my family? I know it's a hackneyed mommy-blogger complaint but will I ever again have a moment to myself in the bathroom? My family members are three, eight and thirty something. At what age will they realize that privacy is a very precious commodity and that I could use a little more of it? Is my husband doesn't' have it down yet, is there any hope for my children?

I have a story about my mother-in-law that I would like to add here but I won't because she reads this blog (Hi Judy!) and while I'm ok mocking my own immediate family, it gets kind of weird if I'm talking about the in-laws. Let's just say that Jesse's bathroom etiquette appears to be genetic and leave it at that. Oy.

One year ago today it was St Patrick's Day.
Two years ago today I did a Google meme.
Three years ago today I wrote what can only be described as the most boring blog post ever.

Interview with the boy child

The answer to what one of the statements about the museum trip was false? Number nine. Sort of. Elle really did say she loves hardpeckers. The false part of it was that I didn't try to stop her. There was no one else around us and she was just so cute and happy that I just didn't have the heart to stop her. Also it made me laugh.

Here's a easy-peasy Sunday blog post. I originally posted this on Facebook but I thought it was cute enough to share here. I interviewed Joseph and asked him questions about me. These are his unedited answers.

1. What is something mom always says to you? Joseph, stop picking your nails.

2. What makes mom happy? Me not whining.

3. What makes mom sad? When I make my puppy dog eyes.

4. How does your mom make you laugh? She tells me funny things.

5. What was mom like as a child? She wore glasses and a bumble bee shirt.

6. How old is your mom? 33

7. How tall is your mom? Get a ruler.

8. What is her favorite thing to do? Blog and drinking wine and Pepsi and spending time with me.

9. What does your mom do when you are not around? I don't know. Watch Elle and text.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what would it be for? Best mom.

11. What is your mom really good at? Blogging, texting, ordering me around.

12. What is your mom not very good at? Nothing.

13. What does your mom do for work? Stay home.

14. What is your mom's favorite food? Sushi and that cheese that squeaks in your teeth.

15. What makes you proud of your mom? Cause she's a good mom.

16. If your mom was a cartoon character, who would she be? *shrugs shoulders* She wouldn't fit one.

17. What do you and your mom do together? Play games and snuggle.

18. How are you and your mom alike? We both like Disney World and ice cream and chocolate and we both don't like when Daddy toots and we both blog. We're both very alike.

19. How are you and your mom different? She's a girl and I'm a boy. She doesn't fart and I do. She doesn't watch tv as much as I do and she's not such a video game fan.

20. How do you know your mom loves you? Cause she told me so.

21. What does your mom like most about your dad? That he's her husband.

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? The liquor store.

It's kind of scary how well he knows me. In my defense though I have to say that I really prefer Disney World to the liquor store. Also, I'm 31.

One year ago today I was a little misunderstood.

Two years ago today I tried to look on the bright side.

A funny thing happened at the museum

I took the kids to my local history museum yesterday. It was hectic and fun. I'm going to tell you about ten things that happened at the museum. Nine of them really happened. Go ahead and try to guess what one is made up.

1. I got a call telling me that I missed the cut-off time for my SHG by one day and that the transfer will have to be pushed back a month.
2. Joseph pointed to a large plastic cow and said "Are visitors allowed to rub this cow?"
3. Elle found a pencil and drew on an exhibit.
4. Joseph was fascinated by an exhibit about Rosa Parks and made me read every single one of the 30 something panels out loud to him while Elle tried to climb on them.
5. Elle walked into the museum and said "This is boring! I don't like this building!"
6. Joseph looked at a exhibit about making butter and said "I didn't know butter was technologically advanced!"
7. As we were leaving the museum Elle said "This museum is not so boring after all! I like it here."
8. Joseph and Elle both asked me to buy them rubber balls that looked like popcorn in the gift shop. When I said no they both cried about not being able to get "cornballs".
9. Elle called a stuffed woodpecker a "hardpecker" and repeatedly yelled "I love hardpeckers!" despite my attempts to correct her.
10. Joseph told a museum employee "I like that exhibit about brown people riding the bus."

So, what one of those didn't really happen?

What's more fun than a condom covered probe? Everything

I forgot about one really fun aspect of surrogacy. It's the long periods where you're just waiting, waiting, waiting mixed in with occasional frantic bursts of "OMG!!! Go and do this right now and hurry because everything depends on this and if you don't do it right now everything will be ruined and OMG why are you still sitting there! GO RIGHT NOW!"

We're in a bit of a manic phase right now. All of the sudden everything came together. Contracts were done, final insurance coverage was given and a tentative medication schedule was set with it all leading up to a transfer next month.

That is of course, if I can get a sonohysterogram scheduled in the next four minutes. For those of you who don't know, "sonohysterogram" is a fancy word for "having warm salt water injected into your uterus and then being poked at with a condom covered ultrasound probe for what feels like two hours while a doctor attempts to find your ovaries which, judging by how the you're being jabbed at with the ultrasound dildo, have migrated up to your ears". It's super fun and I was really hopeful that I was going to be able to skip the whole thing this time but no such luck.

It's all good though. The fact that I could be getting pregnant next month (fingers crossed!) is what's really important here. This is just a small bump in the road. A small condom covered bump. I can deal with it.

Spring Breakdown

It's Spring Break this week. There's a good chance that by the end of the week either Joseph or I will be living in the garage.

I don't know if the kid is hitting a growth spurt or what but he's been off for the past week or so. Half of the time he is himself at his best, sweet and gentle, funny and smart. The other half of the time he is hell on wheels. Or rather, hell on little Cars socks covered feet. If I ask him to do something I never know what reaction I'm going to get.

Will it be "Ok Mommy! I like to do stuff for you. Can we play a game later when you're not busy? While I'm waiting I'll play with Elle."?

Or will it be "Destroyer! You are a destroyer of days! AAAAAGH! You ruined my day YOU DESTROYER, YOU!!!!"?

I have gotten both so far this morning. And I am not exaggerating either one. And both were responses to me asking him to get dressed.

I think I'm going to go lay down in the garage for a while now. Someone wake me up when it's Monday.

One year ago today I saw a movie and really, really hated it.

It's like blogging but more random

I don't have anything substantial enough to blog about so here are some random little snippets.

Elle has started saying "lasterday" instead of "yesterday". According to her everything happened lasterday. I hope she never stops saying it.

Jesse and I wnet out with friends on Saturday night. I put a dollar in the juke box and played "Shoop". I knew all the words so I sang along. It was awesome and shameful. But mostly awesome.

VH-1 has a lot of crappy programming but the worst show of them all might be Tool Academy. I hope that if instead of having a second season they have a new show for the women of Tool Academy and that they call it "Get Some Intensive Therapy So You Can Deal With Your Issues and Find Out What Would Cause You to Date Such an Asshole Academy". That said, I was glad Ashley and Tiny Tool won. I was rooting for them. And now I have to go stick my head in the microwave.

People who think using the U-turn on the Amazing Race is "shady" are stupid. It's part of the game and to not use take advantage of something that could help you win the game (or at least advance) isn't honorable. It's dumb.

I would kill for good sushi and/or Indian food.

I just sent my new IFs an email with a story about the problem with ice house robberies in Minnesota. I don't know why. I just like telling people random crap that they don't need to know about.

My surrogacy contracts are done and I could be getting a meds schedule as soon as Wednesday. We're cruising now!

Sometimes Jesse and I like to chat on Facebook when he's in the office and I'm in the living room with the laptop. The fact that we can hear each other typing as we "chat" amuses me to no end.

Today I found a little rock in my pocket and I have no idea how it got there.

Please don't allow idiots near the mirophone

Last night I went to see Angela Davis speak at St Cloud State University. It was really, really interesting. She's a very powerful, compelling speaker and although I didn't agree with everything she said (especially regarding some of her thoughts on the prison system) I found her talk thought provoking.

If you're the sort of person who enjoys watching other people make idiots out of themselves then you should go to events like this one and then stick around for the question and answer segment. Get a large group of people together in a room and I guarantee that that were be several morons who just can't want to use that open mic to broadcast their particular brand of moronishness to the whole room.

Last night one guy stood up the microphone and instead of asking a question (like we were specifically instructed to do!) started rambling on with his own thoughts about the problems with the prison system. His main complaint seemed to be that we don't do enough to keep pedophiles safe while they are in prison. He went on and on about it. It was kind of fascinating. All I could think was "Dude! Way to out yourself as a sex offender!"

I mean, I suppose it's possible that this guy wasn't a pedophile. I guess. I don't know though. You don't see a lot of non-pedophiles tearing at their hair and crying "Won't someone please think of the child molesters!" I may be biased here. I for one don't give a flying flip about the safety of child molesters. In my opinion, you do something like that to a child and you kind of deserve whatever you get after that.

If anything surpassed that moment in pure OMG inducement it was the white woman who stood up at the microphone and sobbed as she asked her question. She stood there and asked Angela Davis, former Black Panther, how to help the minorities around her who just seemed to give up so easily when faced with difficulties. "I just *sob* see them and I *sob* feel so bad because they *sob* just don't try as hard as I do *sob* and I want to help them *sob* but I don't know how because *sob* they just don't have it in them to *sob sob sob* try as hard as I do."

Here is my reaction rendered in glorious emoticon form: <:^O

Somehow Angela Davis managed to give an answer that was smart, gentle, informed, compassionate and just a wee bit of a smack down. If it was just me standing up there the best I would have been able to come up with is "Did you really just say that to me? Really? What part of your brain thought it was ok to let those words leak out of your mouth?"

I wondered what answer this woman was looking for. Was Angela Davis going to tell her just the right thing to say to inspire the people around her to try harder? As my dear friend Emily said "What is she going to do? Go up to people and say 'Excuse me, I noticed that you're a person of color and that you seem to give up easier than I do. I would like to help you with that.'?"

(I am aware that the punctuation in that last sentence was totally messed up but I'm not sure how to fix it and I'm too lazy to figure it out. If only there was someone around to give me a condescending pep talk.)

Anyway, the talk was really interesting but the question and answer period just confirmed for me what I have long suspected. Idiots are drawn to open mics and captive audiences. Has anyone else ever had an experience like this?

Two years ago today Spring Break left me feeling confused and I took part in an epic battle.

She's got a point

Yesterday Elle was kind of whiny and crabby and when I asked her what was wrong she said "My poopy has points in it and it pokes me when I sit down."

I guess that would make me crabby too.

One year ago today Joseph was a heathen.
Two years ago today I thought fruit murder was funny.
Three years ago today Joseph was spooky and I wanted him to kick someone.

My family has mad skillz

My family has been pretty busy for the past few days. We've used this past weekend to show off all of our most amazing skills.

On Friday afternoon Joseph and some of his friends put on a play for his class. (Jesse, my mom and I were there to see it too.) Joseph wrote the play, cast it, directed it, produced it and acted in it. The play is called Super Pickle and it is the moving story of a pickle who stops a dinosaur from eating the mayor's house. While watching the play we laughed, we cried and we cheered. We fell in love with characters like Super Pickle, Scribblesaurus and The Guy Who Runs Away. After the play Joseph was asked how he came up with the idea for Super Pickle and he responded "I was trying to make a lizard but when I cut it out I accidentally cut off his legs and arms ...... and tail. Then it looked like a pickle so I made a play about it." I'm pretty sure that's how "12 Angry Men" came to be made.

On Saturday Elle's dance class had a dance recital. A lot of the little girls who were on stage just froze. They didn't sing or dance or move or do much beyond looking horrified. It was actually really cute. They stood there in their sparkly, overpriced leotards and stared out at the crowd, stunned. They looked like adorable cotton candy statues. Elle was not one of the ones who froze. Elle danced and sang her little heart out. She twirled, she stomped, she kept scooting further and further forward so that by the end she was a good foot in front of all the other girls. I had tears in my eyes watching her. She looked so happy and sure of herself, it was really a lot of fun to watch.

On Sunday Jesse and I showed off our skills as parents and responsible adults by ..... locking ourselves and our children out of the house. Ever since we moved into this house we've had this lock/door/key situation that has needed to be taken care of. We've said to each other "One of these days we're going to lock ourselves out of the house!" countless times. Today we did it and we felt exactly as stupid as we knew we would. We called a locksmith and he let us back into the house AND fixed the lock/door/key situation. It worked out really well because in the end all it cost us was $12,789.63 and a big chunk of pride.

My family is made of awesome. Well, some of us are. The smaller ones of us. Us bigger folks could learn a thing or two from those little people.

Two years ago today Elle showed off her new winter hat.
Three years ago today I said something I had swore I never would.