Fluid Pudding : Page 83 of 122 : It's the old small talk!

I try not to whine. (Today I’m not trying very hard.)

Last night at approximately 12:52, the cat freaked out, jumped onto the bed, and attacked my feet. It was a three Band-Aid attack, and it has set the mood for the morning. (If I was a mood ring wearing person, today would be something like black or red or flame throwing or whatever color symbolizes I Should Probably Take a Xanax.) ((My kids complimented me a LOT this morning, which they tend to do when I’m shooting sparks out of my eyeballs.))

I love Scout. I love Henry. I’m having a difficult time loving Scout AND Henry. (Don’t get me wrong. I will get through this.) The dogs are at each others’ throats from the time they are released from their crates in the morning (at approximately 6:00) until they are put back into the crates for bed (at approximately 10:00). During their awake hours, they are fighting and/or growling at each other. Constantly. About half of the time, I can tell that they’re playing. The other half? It starts off as playing, but then leads to something else entirely. SO, I’ve been spending my days trying to engage them and/or separate them. Henry is eleven weeks old, and he was just diagnosed with a bacterial infection as well as a skin infection. In my mind, he needs rest. (Perhaps I’m projecting!) Scout won’t let it happen. SO, I put Scout in her crate so Henry can have Henry time, and both dogs end up yelling and growling through the crate door. (Oh, man. I’m boring you again! Wake up! Please?) They love each other. They hate each other. I just want to eat falafel and sit on the couch…

Oh! Oh! (I really am good at whining! Buckle up!) Scout is pretty good at the whole training pad thing. Henry? Not so much. (Yet.) SO, I take both of them outside several times each day to do their business and run around. Because of our outside time, I now have ten (TEN!) of those big nasty swollen mosquito bites on my arms, and several more tiny ones on my ankles. (I smell really good, people. I’ve been using blackberry scented lotion! Bugs are really drawn to me, as are women in the freezer section of the grocery store. (I don’t know.))

When Jeff and I are complaining about silly things and we catch ourselves losing perspective, we tend to say, “It’s a living hell.” If you look at the big picture, we’re dipped in Nothing To Complain About. Oh, but the growling. The GROWLING! And the fighting. And the bug bites! And I’m limping today because I Was Attacked By My Own Cat. Living hell? Living hell.

Always End On A Good Note: Tempe and I had lunch yesterday at VegaDeli, where I enjoyed a Greek Wrap and some apple/beet/carrot juice. This may just be my new favorite place in St. Louis.

Someone make the fighting stop. (I know it will eventually stop.)

Poor Itchy Bullied Henry.

And Poor Mean Girl Scout.

And this is where I would put a photo of my feet along with a Poor Mangled Me, but we all know how I am about feet. Enjoy your day. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

First Day of School!

You know me.

I really can’t let a first day of school go by without sharing the photos.

And, look. I even made them hug.

(It took about 25 failed shots to get one hug photo in which both girls look at least partially happy. “Keep hugging! No! We’re not there yet! Hug! Happy hugs! Hu-uh-uhg!”)

((Congratulations to Peggy for winning the hat or gloves! And thank you so much to all who donated or who still might donate! We’re almost there!!!)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Welcome, Henry Huggins!

As you know, we’ve been talking about getting a sibling for Scout.

Last week, the wonderful woman who helped us adopt Scout sent this link to me. We immediately fell in love with ALL of the puppies, but were most interested in adopting either Brownie (a female) or Scout (a male).

Long Story Shortened Because You Like It Like That: The woman fostering the pups took them to an adoption event today, and she held Brownie and Scout back for us. We got there and pretty much immediately knew that Brownie was a bit too quiet and cuddly for Scout’s aggressive ways. However, I’m pleased to report that Scout and Scout got along famously. Much sniffing and wagging!

Foster Mom: I have to warn you, Scout likes to put his paws in his water bowl and go crazy with splashing!

Me: So does our Scout!

Foster Mom: Also, he had an umbilical hernia, so you might want to keep an eye on that.

Me: So did our Scout!

(It was meant to be. I shall now adopt every dog named Scout and fill my house with Scouts.)

The girls and I held a quick meeting, where we decided that New Scout (who is 1/2 Beagle, 1/4 Shih Tzu, and 1/4 Brussels Griffon) looks like a Henry Huggins. (We name all of our pets after characters in books.) We filled out the papers, paid the fee, and brought our new family member home, where we’ll all live happily ever after. (Except for the cats, who are sitting in the basement applying black eyeliner, listening to Morrissey, and wondering what the hell is going on.)

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Nutter Butter is the Blizzard of the Month. I’ve already had four of them.

Because I’m not a fan of crowds, last year I often found myself stressing out before PTO meetings even though my only obligation for those meetings was to walk into the school library, find an empty seat, sit down in that seat, and then find my way out to the car when the meeting was over. I believe I attended a total of three meetings last year, which is admittedly fairly horrible, but it was three meetings more than I had attended in any of the previous years.

I’m now the treasurer of our school’s PTO. This means I will be attending ALL of the meetings, probably saying actual words during those meetings, doing things with money and bank accounts and budgets, and smiling a lot. I just need to constantly remind myself that sending a loved one off to WAR is terrifying. PTO is not terrifying. It’s not terrifying. Not terrifying. Terrifying.

Last night I attended my first event of the fiscal year. (Look at me talking in fiscals. I feel smarter already, Olivia Newton-John!) I saw a few things that broke my heart and a few things that found me fighting the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my head. At the end of the night, I returned home, counted some money, and entered a bunch of numbers into the system. No need for Xanax. All is well.

This evening (in about an hour, actually), we’ll be returning to school to meet the teachers. I’m terribly happy with the teachers the girls will have this year. My only complaint (and it’s a tiny one) is that one of the girls will be in a classroom with someone that I was hoping would NOT be in her classroom. BUT, I’m trying my hardest to turn my attitude around and even bring God into it along with words like Forgiveness and Peace and Love. (Wurocher once said, “If a child acts like a hateful animal, treat her as one. Feed her ground corn and chicken by-product and make her pee outside. Just kidding.”)

We’ll see what happens. In the meantime, if you have a Dairy Queen in your area, get over there and buy a Nutter Butter Blizzard. Tell them I sent you. (Don’t really tell them that I sent you. They don’t know me. (Unless you’re going to the Dairy Queen by my house. They know me. Oh, yes they do.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Why do I need 24 smiley stickers?!

I just purchased one of those 18-Month Mom Planners. I really wish there would have been a better selection of planners, but when you’re shopping at a big cruddy store that’s going out of business soon, you sort of get what you get. Anyway, my planner came with hundreds of goofy little stickers and spaces for meal ideas and perforated blank grocery list areas where I normally write things like “Thursday. No eodpm.” instead of “Lentils. Almonds. Peaches.” and then I stare at eodpm and wonder what I meant and then a few days later I get a phone call confirming my tubal ligation and reminding me of No Eating Or Drinking Past Midnight, and suddenly the world makes sense again.

This week’s two-page calendar spread is completely full. It hasn’t been like that for quite some time, and we’re a bit bummed because this means No Pajama Days. Today’s box says “Lydia. Checks. Groceries. Pencils.” and none of those things sound like fun, so I believe I’ll also add in a yogoluv or a Haircut for Girls.

I’m pleased to announce that I delivered another batch of cake balls over the weekend!

The blues are yellow cake with chocolate icing, and the whites are cherry chip cake with cherry icing. I really loved them, because they reminded me of one of my favorite ever sock yarns.

I *still* haven’t made socks out of that yarn. It’s just too pretty. I was able to spend a few hours knitting with friends over the weekend, and this shawl (which seems like more of a scarf than a shawl, but who am I?) became the topic of discussion. Perhaps some of my prettier sock yarns can become Melody’s Shawls…

Like this one.

Or this one.

Speaking of neckwear, Meredith knitted a fabulous cowl for Scout.

When it’s back to school season, a puppy needs a scarf like a vegetarian needs a juicy hamburger. BUT, when January rolls around? Scout will be thanking Meredith for her thoughtfulness. (And I’ll still be avoiding those juicy hamburgers.)
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I’m knitting a hat or gloves for a lucky reader. You can read all about it right here! (Your chances are crazy good! Apparently, not many people want gloves or a hat!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’ve got friends in low places.

I know I’ve gone on about this before.

But seriously. I had to share this with you.

I wasn’t sure how to respond this morning when my feminine protection suggested I go play.

“I’ve got your back,” said the tampon, “Really. Go play.”

“Well, okay then!” I replied as I pumped my fist into the air, which I often do during That Time of The Month. (I normally follow that exuberant fist pump with a melodramatic cry on the bathroom floor, a maniacal laugh as I shove too many Doritos into my mouth, and a silent scream as my migraine hits. I enjoy being a girl!)

So, yeah. I did what the tampon told me! After taking the kids to catch their ride to College for Kids, I played fourteen rounds of tennis (rounds? sets? I really have no idea!), I mastered The Cartwheel in my front yard, I marched around a football field with a tuba, and I cross-country skied across some country!

Tampon totally had my back. I returned to the house to find that all of my laundry was finished and put away, the floors were sparkling, the dog had been trained, and my shower problem had been solved! The only thing Tampon didn’t do was pick my kids up and bring them back home to me, and that’s the only reason why I decided to remove and dispose of it.

And thank God I did!

It might sound silly, but if you substitute “Grandma” for “tampon” the way I just did, it becomes a bit easier to heed the advice! So, I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind. I’m grabbing my keys and hitting the road. You see, somewhere out there is a carnival with my name written all over it, and I’m going to have fun. I *do* trust you, Tampon! I do! (Why am I suddenly crying? Do you have any Funyons I can borrow?!)

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Spinning Bats and Plump Cats

Because school starts up in less than two weeks, we’re currently spending a lot of time trying to tie up loose ends and do some of the things we’ve been talking about doing since the summer began. (We STILL haven’t gone out for a Pancake Breakfast! Unacceptable!)

Tomorrow evening is our last chance to cash in the free River City Rascals baseball tickets the girls earned at school last year. I’m a HUGE baseball fan. (I’m not a huge baseball fan.) The only thing that will possibly keep us away from the stadium tomorrow (other than my complete lack of enthusiasm) is the fact that the temperature is supposed to hit 98 degrees, which along with being a terrible band, is about 38 degrees too hot for me to plop down in a stadium seat. Meredith has decided that if we cannot deal with the heat of the game, we should go with Plan B, which involves a Chinese buffet. All I Can Eat Crab Rangoon, or feeling sweat run down my back while eating peanuts or Skittles or some other crap because I tend to not think ahead and the concession stands at these places typically offer nothing but fried up dead animals that are all too often served on sticks. Hrm. This is a tough one. (This is not a tough one.)

Do you remember back in May when I bought my juicer? I’ve used it exactly three times, and I haven’t been terribly smiley about any of my concoctions. (The promise of apple season is the only thing preventing me from trying to sell the blasted thing.) Luckily, unlike the juicer, my spinning wheel purchase has officially stuck. This is my latest bobbin.

It has some thick and thin and slubby bits, and although I wish my bobbins were even and beautiful when full, I haven’t yet mastered the hook adjustments. Anyway, for the spinners out there, I have one more bobbin to fill with this fiber before I attempt to Navajo ply it. I’m not so great at the spinning thing, but it’s all about the practice, right? Right! Any advice would be appreciated.

Hey! Do you remember when Harper took a hole puncher to Sidney’s ear? Although we haven’t seen much of Sid since Scout became part of the family, I wanted to assure you that she does still exist. (AND, so does the dent in her ear.)

She’ll be hiding in the basement (with that amazing pillow globe that I bought when I was pregnant with Meredith) until the dog is no longer a threat, which should occur sometime around the 12th. The 12th of Never. Also, do you remember learning how to put your shoulders back and stick out your neck and tilt your head and suck in your stomach and push your tongue against your front teeth all in an effort to make yourself appear a bit more photogenic?

Sidney hasn’t learned that yet.

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So Many Types of Nerds

Yesterday afternoon we went to the animal adoption event where we met the little Dachsund I had shown you earlier in the week. We hemmed. We hawed. In the end, our family works like this: It takes Four Yesses, but it only takes One No. We had a No. Meredith was pretty much destroyed at the thought of leaving that building without the puppy. (Meredith is VERY sensitive when it comes to animals who need homes. In the past few months, I’ve been keeping up with a rescue group’s activity online, and I have to be very careful to not have the page up when Meredith walks by.)

When your kid is tearful, you do what needs to be done: You take her to 7-11 for a cherry slurpee, and if that doesn’t help, you throw a local cheese pizza on top of the slurpee. And then you throw a Dairy Queen Blizzard on top of that. (Please note that six hours passed between Slurpee and Blizzard. Nevertheless, now that I’m typing it all out, it really does look like we feed our sorrows. By the way, these are wonderful. Hi there, Weight Watchers! Long time no see! Catch me if you can!)

Last night after Harper had fallen asleep, Meredith called me into their room.

Meredith: Mom, do you think I’m a nerd?

Me: Hrm. What exactly do you mean by nerd?

Meredith: I know there are smart nerds and I know there are dorky nerds who are weird, and sometimes I think I’m one of the weird ones.

Me: If you’re weird at all, it’s a really good type of weird. Plus, yes. You’re really smart. You read smart books. You hit all of the notes when you’re singing Selena Gomez songs. If Nerd is a good thing, I would wear it proudly. If you see Nerd as a bad thing? You’re no nerd.

College for Kids starts up tomorrow, where both girls will be taking Xtreme 3-D Studio Art, plus a few other classes. School starts up on August 15th, and I’m terribly excited. Not because I want the girls away from the house, but because it’s at school where they get to see their friends. Once again, I’ve been pretty terrible at keeping them social this summer. (I hate that I’m one of those weird nerds Meredith is so afraid of becoming. I keep hearing myself say, “If you don’t like it, change it.” BUT, it’s not really that easy, is it?)

All of the nerd talk last night stirred me into revisiting my past while wondering when I started falling onto The Nerd Spectrum.

Answer: It had to have happened sometime between elementary and high school.

Have I ever shown you my senior picture from high school?

I dressed like I was fifty, I rarely smiled, yet I tried my hardest to rock asymmetrical hair. When I had this particular photo taken, the photographer said something like, “Well, we typically use that chair for our church directory or career shots.” It didn’t matter. I begged for the blue chair.

Sure, I had this one, too:

I sort of look like an athlete who occasionally kneels down and punches herself in the face. What you cannot see in this photo was my golden brooch—carefully chosen to add a touch of our school colors, which were brown and gold. (By the way, it STILL bothers me that the photographer used white type on a white background.)

I’m now changing the subject: Does anyone REALLY need help knowing how to wear a denim skirt or a pair of striped shoes? I’ve been wincing lately when I run across websites that try to teach me how to have fun with my kids at the grocery store or how to wear a strapless bra without drawing attention to back fat. (Hi. I’ve been cranky.)

And once more: I’m knitting a hat or gloves for a lucky reader. You can read all about it right here! (Your chances are crazy good! Apparently, not many people want gloves or a hat!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Do you really want to shirt me? Do you really want to make me cry?

Back in 2006, my friend Tempe shared her idea of embroidered shirts to commemorate her kids’ first day of school. Because I loved the idea, we jumped on the wagon. Meredith’s first day of preschool was on August 16, 2006. She didn’t yet wear glasses, she could barely write her name, and she had no idea how to read.

On August 15, 2007, she attended her first day of pre-K. She could then write her name, she could see (!!!), and she was starting to turn down the tantrums and make friends.

On August 18, 2008, Harper went to preschool for the first time. She had been waiting for this day for YEARS. (I have never seen cuter cheeks, by the way.)

That same day, Meredith started kindergarten—minus some teeth, plus an awesome pair of glasses.

AND, here is my big mistake. Meredith started the first grade on August 13, 2009. I hadn’t yet picked up the shirts, so she decided to dress as “a rock and roll girl” for her first day. (Her shirt that year was navy blue with yellow embroidery. I’m kicking myself for not having a photo. Get past it. Get past it. Get past it. Repeat and fade.)

On August 17, 2009, Harper showed her freshly cut layers at pre-K. (She’s still mad about that haircut. She STILL says bad things about Salon Vicki.)

Harper’s first day of kindergarten and Meredith’s first day of second grade was on August 16, 2010. This was the day that I dropped them off at school, and suddenly found myself faced with nearly seven hours of free time. Seven hours that I spent mourning my marketability and counting down the hours until I could nab a spot in the pick up line.

Yesterday morning we went and ordered the shirts for this year. It’s Meredith’s sixth shirt and Harper’s fourth. I have a dream of someday making a quilt out of all of these t-shirts, but deep down I know that will never happen. Because I have no idea how to quilt. Also, I tend to lack tenacity. But it sounds good, right?

Not long ago, someone asked what I do for a living. My response to this is nearly always “I’m a stay at home mom.” (It’s really difficult to explain freelance editing and monkey publishing side jobs.) Can you call yourself a stay at home mom if the kids are at school while you are at home? I suppose I need to start redefining myself yet again.

(Weird side story: Every time we go to the embroidery store, we order The Same Exact Thing. We’ve been going to the same place for SIX years, yet every single time the lady acts like she has to do the math and asks something like, “So this year we’re at Class of 2022 and 2023?” Every year I laugh at the thought of her inadvertently implying that my kids weren’t bumped up to the next grade. And then she doesn’t understand why I’m laughing and I don’t understand why we have to go through this every single year. And then she gives the girls red suckers, and all is well.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Some might say I’m trying to fill some sort of hole in my life…

It seems that we’re now in the home stretch of our summer vacation. This week we finalized our backpack and school supply decisions, delivered our blank t-shirts to the embroiderers, and tentatively decided to add another dog to our family.

Next week the girls have College for Kids, and the week after that we’ll find out who their teachers are.

School starts on August 15, and my tubes will be tied on the 19th.

I’ll be finishing The Namesake before the weekend is up and giving Room a shot.

I’ve been working on my Christmas knitting list.

Also, I’m now taking a magnesium supplement every night before bed.

Did I mention that we’re thinking about adding another dog to the family?

Do you have a dog? Two dogs? Three dogs? Two dogs are better than one, right? Can you imagine how smiley our house would be if Scout had a brother? A Dachsund mix brother?!

After the 19th, I’ll no longer be able to have human babies. BUT, nobody said anything about canine babies!!!
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Wait. I’m knitting a hat or gloves for a lucky reader. You can read all about it right here! (Your chances are really good!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>