Thrillsneaking

I’m generally an advocate for being honest and transparent in my day to day life.  There is enough BS in the world without me adding to it.  With children, however, sometimes it’s best to be a bit opaque.

Be honest.  We all have those toys and books we hate.  Sometimes it’s best for those to disappear.  Knuffle Bunny lived under the couch for a few months, as I simply could not bear to read that thing anymore.  And who has “accidentally” lost pieces to something so that we could dispose of the whole shebang?

This was a flower arrangement, I think.

Anyone who has read my stuff for a while know that Felix has always been an interesting little fellow.  Starting waaaaaaaaay back when with all his Preciouses, he’s always been very in tune with the physical world around him.  I think at first he enjoyed the feel of things: teeny tiny sandwich, can of soup, and pine straw.  Then came the manipulation of these things, such as when he’d stack up his 3 Donuts then sit and watch TV in them.  Over the years, he’s gotten more sophisticated and imaginative.

I love this about him.  I also love being able to walk through my own house without having to look as if I’m playing the limbo.  His “machines” have gotten out of control.  What’s worse is that his construction standards aren’t necessarily up to par, meaning that if you happen to brush up against one or even stir up an aggressive wind current, catastrophe ensues.  Then he flips out, demanding that you FIX IT NOW, only you have no way in this world to do that because who the hell knows what it was supposed to be or do before you destroyed it?  And don’t think that you can just stick some shit back together and he won’t notice because he will.  He will notice.

Part of a machine in his room. The thing is over 5′ long.

This is all serious business.   So serious in fact that if you say “Felix quit playing and come eat,” he’ll shout that he’s not playing.  He’s working.

This was his “flying copier machine” before I popped the balloons that were dangling off the side.

So sometimes I have to undertake a purge.  I wait until he’s at school and then race through the house with a box or garbage bag, popping balloons and stuffing pine cones, used pipe cleaners, Qtips, cardboard tubes, and cotton balls inside until it’s full.    I feel sort of bad about it but there simply is no other way.  I’ve already had to apologize to the mail carriers and explain that we are not trying to trip them on purpose.  It’s just a “wasp fence” that grew a bit larger than originally planned.

“Wasp fence” and pissed off Dude. I told him he couldn’t double-stack bricks on the ledge right above his head. I’m a horrible person.

Have any of y’all had to assassinate your children’s creations?

 

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Don’t RSVPee In the Pool

“You’re only making things harder on yourself.”  That’s kind of been a mantra lately, coming from other people and myself.

We had Felix’s birthday last weekend.  It was the same place we’ve had most of the kids’ parties. It’s an easy venue, as we pretty much just have to pick up a handful of basic decorations, snacks, balloons, and whatever cake/cupcakes the birthday kid wants.  This year, the Dude said he wanted a “science” party.  Despite the fact that I realized there was no way I was attempting to plan and run actual experiments with a bunch of 5 year olds, I was over the moon that he wanted that theme, vs Lightning McQueen, Volume 4.

Can’t believe he’s 5 already

I must pause here and bitch.  And yes, I’ve bitched about this before, but obviously the people are not listening.  RSVP is a thing, y’all.  It doesn’t mean that I’m a rotten, demanding person who expects every kid/family to drop what they’re doing and come to my party.  It just means that I need to know if you’re coming or not.  Period.  There are 17 other kids in Felix’s class.  All were sent invitations.  Only 2 responded at all.  They said they were coming (then didn’t show).  One mom, in particular, can go jump in a hazardous waste impoundment, as this was the same mom who reached out to me to please send the class parents an email since hardly anyone had RSVPd to her kid’s party yet could  not be bothered to do the same for my kid.  Yes, I’m bitter.  And I may be done throwing my kids parties.  We’ll still celebrate, but I’m tired of tossing 15+ cupcakes.  See what I mean?  I’ve been making things harder for myself.

But people did come and Felix was so happy.  I had sent his old playschool an email, asking the director to forward the party details to anyone who might want to come. So many of our wonderful old friends came.  It was like a reunion for those kids.  I am so grateful that those people are in our lives even though we no longer see them every day.  It also goes to show what kind of community is possible if you’re lucky enough to find it.

At the Lunar New Year lion dance. We love this event!

We’re in the process of tweaking the Dude’s meds.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster, really, which probably sounds dumb.  I guess I get so hopeful each time we try something, crossing fingers and toes that this will be the one – the magic potion we’ve been waiting on.  When it doesn’t work, I feel pretty damn crushed.  He’s on his 3rd variation now.  The 2nd was a disaster.  He’s still coming home with yellows and tons of comments about talking too much.  At first I wanted to cry.  Now I’m getting angry.  Yes, dammit, I know my son talks excessively.  This has been firmly established beyond a reasonable doubt.  This is also a top symptom of ADHD.  So tell me something useful.  Stop telling me my kid talks too much.  Tell me what we (and I do mean we) can do about it.  I’ve read.  I’ve researched.  I’ve tried everything, but I’m just a dumb geologist.  I know nothing about pediatric neurochemistry and behavior modification beyond what’s available to every Joe, Dick, and Harriet online.  Help me with a plan.  I need allies.  My son needs his village.

If the size of the Dude’s mouth was directly proportional to the amount of words coming out of it, this is what he’d look like.

So that’s about it.  Sorry.  Guess I’m still bitching a whole lot.  The wheels keep turning.  Laundry keeps piling up and getting washed.  Meals keep getting cooked then cleaned up.  I keep writing my kids lunchbox notes every day.  Will tells me that’s something extra – just one more thing to do – that makes things harder on myself.  But I will continue to do that.  Extra or not, that’s the important stuff.

We’ve also been delivering a LOT of Girl Scout cookies.

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Whine and Dine

I know I’ve been whining a lot.  Sorry about that.  This too shall pass or some such thing, I guess.  I was just online researching different ADHD meds and I just got sad reading so many people’s reviews and experiences.  So no.  I’m done thinking about that today.  I want to think about other things.

I’ll be getting off work shortly in order to go to my kids’ school for a “Mardi Gras” parade.  The pre-K crowd, including the Dude, are supposed to show up with a “float” made out of a wagon, ideally with a storybook theme.  I talked to some of the kids last week, and I heard plans about going as Elsa or Spiderman.  No way, dude.  Not my kid.  We have made a Giant Jam Sandwich and Felix will morph into Bap the Baker.  I even made wasps out of styrofoam eggs.  I’m beyond excited.   Not that it’s a contest or anything, but we’ll be winning the parade.

I got inspired several months ago to stop looking so fuddy-duddy.  I found this hair dye (Splat is the brand) which actually works on brunettes sans bleach.  I tried the purple and it was ok.  I recently tried blue.  Y’all.  This is the most intense hair dye on the planet.  It’s been 2 weeks now and it’s only just starting to tone down.  My bathtub looks like I was trying to make Smurf wine.  I’m really digging it now that it’s not turning my forehead blue if I sweat and my scalp is back to normal.

Blue mom hair, don’t care. And yes, I know my wasps look bee-like. Bite me.

And if anyone out there happens to see my children and their clothing looks dirty, please know that I do in fact wash their clothes.  The little jerks have decided that napkins are for chumps, and since we’re coming off of a “buttery noodles with salt” binge, they’ve gotten grease stains on absolutely everything.  Dammit.

And despite my resolution to be happier, perkier, and not as whiny today, I’m a bit bummed.  We had planned a 3 night tent camping trip this weekend, but have had to cancel due to the weather.  There’s a 90% chance of storms for all but the last night and day.  That would have been awful.  The inside of the tent would have been like a muddy Thunderdome by the time we packed up to leave.  So, at home rainy togetherness it is.  I’ve been meaning to cut back on my wine consumption, but I think I need to wait a week.

Y’all have a good weekend.

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A Long Day’s Journey Into Knight

This is obviously ADHD season for me, although to be fair, I suppose it always is.  If you read my last post, you know we’ve been dealing with med changes with the Dude.  I’ve also been skirmishing with his teachers, or more specifically, the Evil Villain.

To be fair, I honestly believe that the pre-K crew probably does not have much experience with ADHD and meds and the side-effects of said meds.  Usually kids aren’t diagnosed this early or medicated this soon.  But I guess maybe my expectations are too high when I think that people – no matter which people – should have a vague notion of what ADHD is, and have at least heard that they sometimes take meds that would be uppers for “normal” folks but have the opposite effects on those with ADHD.  Am I wrong?

With the new meds, which we started a week ago Saturday, the Dude quit eating lunch.  That’s kinda normal.  With his previous stuff, he would eat lunch, which probably should have been a clue that maybe they weren’t working so well or weren’t strong enough.  So I did for him what I do for Stella: I loaded his lunch box up with some good old crappy junk food – the kind that even the most non-hungry kid might actually consume.  I would rather my kids eat candy or a cupcake than nothing at all for 8 hours.

My first red flag in a week of many was Felix bitching me out because I hadn’t put the Swedish Fish in his lunch box.  Excuse me?  I put the damn things in there myself.  I remember distinctly.  We tried again the next day.  Same result.  Motherfucker. Someone (Evil Villain??) was removing them.  No.  This will not do.  The second red flag (and the third) came as a result of notes complaining of excessive talking, particularly during lunch.  Well yeah.  He’s not f’ing hungry.  He’s not going to eat.  Therefore, he’s going to talk.  He loves to talk.

I feel I should interject here that I sent a nice note on that first Monday, explaining that he was on new stuff, and to please help me monitor any behavior changes, and that he would likely not want to eat.  I did.  I’m a good communicator like that.  I use my words.  I use lots of words.  And y’all know I’ve been fighting the lunchbox fight with the Evil Villain all damn year.  If it weren’t for fear that my kid might get hurt, I’d be packing a nice rat trap for lunch one day.

When I picked my kids up last Wednesday, the Evil Villain got right in my face, using her mournful (fake) voice to tell me that Felix had gotten purple on his chart yesterday (purple is not good, BTW) for talking SO much during breakfast and lunch.  He was just visiting and visiting.  I looked at her, chanting to myself not to stomp on her toes in the carpool line, and asked if he was eating.  She said “not much.” I replied that I figured, that this was expected.  That he was on SPEED.  She said “That’s what that stuff is?”

I wanted to scream.  I did not.  I need some kind of medal or trophy for that.  I looked at her and said that since he would not be interested in food, they might have to be creative in finding diversions for him during lunch.

I got my kids home without seriously injuring anyone, and set to work quickly trying to get everything set so that Will and I could go out to a concert.  I was damn near crying, yelling at the kids to hurry and eat and do whatever homework before the sitter got there, simultaneously trying to write a sort-of diplomatic note to Felix’s teachers, A) reminding them that my kid is taking amphetamines, and B) not to ever touch a damn thing in his lunchbox even if they find it nutritionally repulsive, all the while trying to fix my face, drink coffee, and finish Felix’s birthday party invitations.  And oh yeah, there was ANOTHER note from his teachers asking for a doctor’s note from when he had the flu that I turned in 2 weeks ago.  I used a lot of capital letters when I responded.

I almost didn’t go to the concert, I was so tired and frustrated and just over the whole damn thing.  I’m glad I went.  I needed that.

We saw They Might Be Giants. Fantastic show!

I turned into a fangirl

Marty on the Drums is my new fav

This week has been a bit better, but not by much.  Felix seems to be eating more at lunch (or they’re throwing stuff away), but he called his teacher a jerk (and yes, I know it could have been a much worse word and I’m grateful it wasn’t) and accused her of “ruining everything.”  And that’s the teacher he likes.  Stella is getting anxiety from these stupid math quizzes in which kids have to answer 20 addition or subtraction problems in 60 seconds.  They get a half point off for every one they don’t get to.  And despite my objection that this defies reason because as parents, particularly with an ADHD kid, we strive to help them slow down, take their time, and work carefully, they require it anyway.  So now my kid complains that she “feels sick” several  mornings each week.  It’s nerves, I tell you.  These damn “mad minute” quizzes are giving my kid anxiety.

Yeah, he called his teacher a jerk

In my head, this ADHD thing has been appearing as a dragon with multiple heads.  A hydra, I guess.  Just when I think I have one head pacified or otherwise sorted out, here comes another one.  It’s just one big battle.  I just need a bigger sword and shield.  It just feels insurmountable sometimes.  Fighting with teachers, the kids, my husband who swears up and down that I didn’t tell him about X,Y, and Z when I know for a fact that I did and he just didn’t “hear” me.  Stella loses papers and library books, for which I then must pay for (and shitty books, too – not even good stuff I’d otherwise buy).

I realize I need to adjust my attitude, pull up my big girl panties and all that.  I hope that one day I can be all Confucius-like, and accept this thing, bending in the water like a reed rather than slowly being eroded away like a rock.  Time to start waving my sword a bit harder.

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Drug o’ War

Written days ago but not posted:

In the battle of ADHD, the landscape is constantly changing.  Just when you think you’ve figured something out, or have some kind of working system – a solid game plan,  the referee blows his whistle and announces that cocktails will be served on B deck, and oh yes, free prostate exams in Room 2, and by the by, how many licks does it take to reach the center of a Tootsie Pop?

I knew Felix was going to need some tweaking.  After an initial positive response, his little body has adjusted.  Now I guess it’s like he’s not on meds at all.  It’s causing problems – at school and home.  His constant chatter and machine noises, while cute at first, are absolutely maddening.  He pisses off his sister and his dad, as he wrecks their own ADHD-riddled attempts at concentrating.  He makes me feel drunk, but not in the fun way.  And he gets so into whatever script or story line is currently playing in his head that he’s basically having an out-of-body experience.

I’ve always loved his imagination.  He’s been such a funny, quirky little dude.  But now it’s time to try to squelch some of that, if only so he can function.  It breaks my heart but I see the need for it.

So after a conference with his teacher and the Evil Villain last week, I called his pediatrician.  I was figuring they could just raise the dosage of what he’s on.  Nope.  They want to try a different drug.  “Oh and we’re giving you a coupon,” said the nurse when I spoke to her on the phone.  A coupon?  Shit.  That sounds expensive.  There’s not a generic for this?  “No. But I am writing down the company rep’s phone number, just in case there’s an issue with the pharmacy.”  Does this mean I need a coupon every month?  That we have to call the rep every month?  “No, usually once they call one time, it’s set.”

Well that’s just F’ing great.  Because obviously no one has to pharmacy hop all over town trying to filly my kids’ ADHD meds.  I am a pseudo-regular at 4 pharmacies each  month, calling around desperately trying to find refills (with only 2 days’ max to find it, because you can’t fill the drugs too early or the computer dings you).  And now not only do I have to find this fabulous non-generic coupon-required new drug, each of my pharmacies may have to call the rep before I can manage to obtain it.

This shit is unmanageable.

And for the record, I had to call NINE pharmacies to find it.  And the small print on the coupon basically indicated that the first month was nice and cheap but after that the price would go up if your insurance covers it.  My insurance doesn’t cover it.

Y’all, I just can’t….

 

 

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For Whom the Smell Rolls

At long last, things may be stabilizing.  It isn’t a holiday.  No one is sick.  There is no strange, icy precipitation outside.  I’ve actually been where I’m “supposed” to be for 3 whole days in a row.  My first normal day back to work I was actually happy.  That feeling left me quick enough.  You see, in order to save money, they’re condensing floors in our building, 3rd edition.  About 2 weeks before Xmas, my group had to box all our stuff and move to new offices where we will be located until we move again to our final new offices…..on the same floor in the next few months.  In the meantime, cubes are being dismantled and in some areas, new walls are being built.  Because that’s all cheap and money-saving, dontcha know.  Since this is the third time we’ve been condensed, many new offices will be even smaller (because nothing is more motivating at work than being in not only a cubicle, but a smaller cubicle).  I’m lucky. I get to stay in one of the “regular-sized” offices.  Because geologists are special or something.  I’m not complaining, but I do have survivors’ guilt.

So now work is like a noisy clown car.  It’s hot and dusty and there’s often a line for the bathrooms.  It’s like the world’s most depressing concert.  And  y’all should see the ice machine on my floor.  I cannot, will not use it.  I’m thinking about calling in an anonymous tip to the health department.  And in light of all the inconsiderate creeps who insist on microwaving fish, I opted to heat up my cabbage rolls today.  I see your stink and raise you one, dammit!  Of course, I had to sneak into the breakroom 20 minutes before lunch, as my floor has a ton of people on it now and only 2 microwaves.  Most days I just eat my shit cold.

For some reason I’ve been obsessed with cabbage rolls since I finally broke down and made some before Xmas.  I had always thought they required a horrendous amount of time and work.  Not so much.  Good to know.

And in the midst of all this, I’m fighting the ADHD fight, as both kids seem to be having difficulties.  For Stella it’s mostly social.  For Felix it’s academic – or whatever you want to call that for pre-K.  The kid is smart – I know he’s smart – but he simply will not come out of imaginationland in his head to bother with trivial things, such as his ABCs.  And while he’s guaranteed a spot at their magnet school next year based on sibling preference, he will NOT be admitted if he can’t pass some kind of screening test.  So I’m twisting in the wind about all of this.  Do we need different, stronger meds?  Should I try to push to get my son an IEP to maybe give him an edge or extra accomodation for the test?  I just don’t know.

And cookies.  My glob, the cookies.  I She is selling a ton.  The totals are far exceeding what I would have thought.  Our last day to sell will be Saturday, so yes, I will be dragging my soggy Brownie Girl Scout through the last 2 streets of our neighborhood selling cookies in the forecasted storms.

And then I’m planning the Dude’s 5th birthday party, which is less than a month away.  Oh, and I’m designing a Mardi Gras float for him with a wagon as a base, since the pre-Kers get to put on a parade for the rest of the school, with each float (preferably) having a storybook theme.  So instead of just dousing my MomWagon (you know, those collapsible canvas wagons that are the absolute merde) with tinsel and beads, we’re going to make a damn storybook wagon float.  Why be boring when you can be stressed and creative?

I need to sit quietly and go knit.  I’ve been promising Stella I’d finish this scarf before spring.

I was told to make it “long.”

 

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Take It Ice and Easy

Oh y’all.  The past couple of weeks have been kinda brutal.  From the week of the stomach virus/flu, my household transitioned into a 3 day holiday weekend immediately into 3 days of snow/ice-bound togetherness.  And yes, I know you northerners out there scoff, but A) we have a whole lotta bridges down here which freeze pretty fast, and B) we don’t have the fancy plows and salt trucks y’all do.  We didn’t get snow so much this time as sleet/ice.  It shut the whole damn city down for at least 3 days.  We all finally got to go back to school and work Friday, only  to turn around and have another damn weekend.

I’m tired of these people.  At this point, I think we all kinda hate each other.  I caught Stella charging her brother with her pogo stick as if it were a cheerfully-colored spear this afternoon.

One thing that has been positive – cookie sales!  As you may recall, this is our first year selling, so it’s all new.  I vaguely remember selling cookies when I was a Girl Scout, but I maybe sold 12 boxes in the neighborhood, plus whatever else my parents could drum up at their places of work.  It’s a whole new world for this stuff now!

We started with an epic video on YouTube, which was widely disseminated on Facebook with Stella’s own personal link, such that out of town family/friends could order directly.  There’s also a fantastic option to donate boxes of cookies to be sent to soldiers overseas – with no shipping charged for that!  Here’s the original video.  I’m stupidly proud of it:

 

By the end of the 2nd day, she had sold a ton, including about 70 boxes for the soldiers.

Given our forced confinement compounded with our inability to sell due to the awful weather, we made a second video.  I also think it’s pretty swell:

We got out today for more traditional selling.  Unfortunately for much of the afternoon session we had Felix in tow.  That kid wouldn’t shut up, as usual, and told many of our customers that their houses “look creepy.”  Most folks thought it was funny.  I, however, would prefer not to sell cookies with my son ever ever again.  Despite that, she sold a ton.  We are crushing this whole cookie thing.

Have a good night, y’all.  I’m counting down the hours until I can go back to work again and get the hell away from these people.

 

 

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One Flu Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

So it’s happened.  After my years of boasting how healthy my children were (not discussing the Dude’s Era of Ear Infections), I’ve had yet another first as a mom:  flu.  Dammit.

But wait!  There’s more. To make the occasion even more memorable and special, we also had a stomach virus.

Felix was the first to get wonky.  He woke up early Monday AM raving.  He felt hot so I fed him meds and we went back to sleep.  By the time school came around (I was at the office), he seemed absolutely fine.  Will sent them both off to school, staying home himself after because he was feeling puny.  When the school called me that afternoon, I wasn’t surprised – at first.  It wasn’t Felix they wanted me to pick up.  It was Stella, who had barfed all over the gym and then proceeded to fill up the trash can outside.  Will scooped them both up at the same time, just as Felix started falling ill again.

Stella got over hers pretty quick, only missing 1 complete day of school.  Felix was strange.  He would be OK during the day only to run hotter than lava at night.  Finally it was time to call in the professional.  Over the river and through the woods, to the pediatrician we went.  Flu was confirmed.  He’s only the 12th case out of 232 (just in that practice!!) that has had the flu after getting vaccinated.  That’s also why he wasn’t  completely miserable for the past 3 days, actually able to run around normally during the day.  Today he’s bouncing off the walls, hanging with his MyMom and watching plant documentaries.  He could’ve gone to school, but I wanted to really adhere to that 24 hour minimum no temp rule this time.  He’ll go back tomorrow fo sho.

I will say this: for 2 days I was rather vocal that there was no way Felix had the flu.  I mean, it’s been about 10 years since I’ve had it, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  You wish for death.  You can’t hold your eyelids open because they hurt.  Everything hurts.  That is not what my son experienced, thankfully.   If not for the shot, he may have had a much worse go of it.

So yeah.  Smartasses out there  will likely make snide comments such as “See?  The shot doesn’t even work,” and they can kiss my flu-free ass.  Because (knocking on all  the damn wood) I’ve been snuggling with my flu-ridden son all week and I’m well enough to tell the tale.

So the flu AND a stomach virus in the span of 48 hours.  What has me terrified now is what if the streams cross?  So far, the Dude’s stomach has been normal, and Stella hasn’t had any issues with fever or aches.  These woods are dark, deep, and strange.  We’re nowhere near the end of them.

Stay well out there, y’all.  It’s a doozy of a year for the sicknesses.

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Wins of Our Fathers

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but my father is an incredibly competitive person.  He was very athletic all through college, particularly in baseball, and never lost that lust for winning.  Bless his heart, he then had 2 of the most unathletic children this world has ever produced.  He tried with my brother, bless his heart.  It wasn’t pretty for anyone.

In any case, just because I did not inherit any variety of athleticism whatsoever, does not mean that I dodged the competitive gene – I just happen to be very erratic with whatever it is I choose to be competitive about.  I can be downright insane.  I can remember classes in college – who could be the best geology major.  I was often at the top of that list (not that that’s done me a damn bit of good out here in the real world).  I kicked ass in micropaleontology.  I could memorize the taxonomy of all the major invertebrate paleo critters we studied.  No one could touch me.  I was a master.  Now I look at contaminated soil and groundwater for a living, ne’er a microfossil in sight.  Sigh.

Sorry.  Got sidetracked.

My competitive streak has reemerged here and there as a parent.  I go nuts every fall now during my kids’ school Wildlife Warrior Week making masks.  Y’all have seen that.  I’ve posted about it.   I get that way during awards presentations.  Yeah, my kid got all A’s.  I’ve already had to let go of that this year, as Stella got a B in math last semester, dammit.  That stung.  And I had no idea they did Student of the Month for pre-K, but I got pretty down when I saw that some other kid was picked and Felix wasn’t.  I know.  I’m nuts.  I’m owning that right now.

I mean, who wouldn’t love that face? That’s Student of the Month material if ever there was such a thing!

And y’all.  There is something new to go nuts about: Girl Scout cookies, or the selling thereof.  I have schemes, y’all, lots of ideas.  I’ve already been fussed at by Will for nagging him about my expectations for his role in this endeavor.  But he doesn’t understand.  There’s no time to procrastinate.  Cookies go on sale at 12:01 AM Friday. The man must move!  We Stella must sell a mountain of cookies!!

Ok.  Deep breaths.  I’ll be fine.

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Red Beans and Ice

Happy 2018, one and all.  How are things?  Did everyone make merry?  Make resolutions?  Make it through fireworks with all fingers and toes intact?

We are having a major event here: we are having winter.  Yes, yes.  Everyone gets winter at some point.  Typically ours means you may only have to run the AC in your home a few times a week during the afternoon, and you’ll spend the holiday season in shorts and flip-flops.  Down here we see the fashion magazines talking about “sandal weather” and chortle.  Every damn month is sandal weather for us.  You’d better keep those toes polished, girls.  We also see the cute Xmas pajamas that families can get so that they can all be matchy-matchy for cute yule-tide photographs surrounded by shreds of wrapping paper.  Yeah, we can’t do that.  Every damn pair of those cute matchy-matchy pajamas are fleece or flannel.  Surely these manufacturers realize that a huge portion of the country cannot wear those without suffering heat exhaustion.  Merry sweaty Xmas, you bastards.

Well, not this year.  In addition to our first real snow in 3 years, we’re having a brutal cold snap.  I read where it was actually colder here yesterday in Louisiana and next door in Texas than it was in Anchorage, Alaska.  That’s nuts.  And y’all up north are probably shaking your head at me right now, laughing at what wusses we all are fussing about 25° weather and remembering all those posts I’ve made bitching about how hot and miserable it is in August.  Yeah, yeah.  All that’s true.  But what folks fail to realize is that for the same reason we don’t buy your fleece matchy-matchy Xmas pajamas, we also do not possess appropriate clothing of any kind for this shit when it happens.  People down here don’t do “long johns.”  People here think “long johns” are prostitutes’ really tall dates.    We simply don’t need that stuff – except one winter in about 4 or 5.  Then we suffer.  Hell, I’d even wear matchy-matchy fleece pajamas to work at this point, bosses be damned.

It was so cold my kids didn’t even want to shoot fireworks. How festive.

My children have no idea what to do.  They fuss to go outside, as children are wont to do.  After about 35 seconds they come streaking inside, hollering about how their hands and feet hurt.  After 2 full weeks of largely-indoor togetherness?  We’re all a bit loopy, a bit cantankerous.  School starts tomorrow.  I’m glad.  On one hand I think it’s dumb to bring kids back Thursday and Friday only to turn around and give them a weekend.  On the other hand, I’m grateful other people can enjoy the company of my bitchy, stir-crazy children.

The Dude attempts to be merry and bright. His facial expression belies the cheer.

It looks like we should start to thaw a bit by Saturday, and be kind of more normal next week.  I’m crossing my fingers and frost-bitten toes that this is the case.

Stay warm, y’all.

Hell, I was so desperate I even took them to the mall (shudders in horror)

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