Join Me in Snarkville

You know, we mothers can be down on our motherly-selves so often that it is hard to see when we do good. Thus, since I’m a little giddy right now, I’m going to list a few things I’ve accomplished in one evening:

1. I made dinner.
2. I sent an e-mail complaining over the loss of my son’s brand new winter coat at school.
3. I cut my son’s hair — and other than oh, the FRONT he doesn’t look bad.
4. I have a pile of failed bribes to get him to sit still during said haircut, they may or may not include a lollipop, a sticker, promises of any movie, and the one that worked (letting him hold the green clipper guide)
5. I sent him off to a bath where I taught him to blow real live soap bubbles.
6. Finally, I’m capable of blogging, bathing, and watching TV all at the same time.

I rock this motherhood thing (as long as we ignore the three tantrums I dealt with in the process). So bring on the next challenge — which may or may not be a bowl of ice cream.

I have NO topic today.  Some may argue that posting is pointless as I truly have nothing to say.  Oh, sure I could entertain you with a cute Duke story or better a “How the Queen is incompentant” story, but alas I’m fresh out of any real points today.

However, I’m sitting in my quiet house, so quiet after a weekend of the boys running around and all.the.screaming/talking/giggling.  So quiet.  I don’t even want to type on my laptop too loudly lest I disturb the quiet.

Anyway, I have some things I actually need help on.

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Technology and I have an unusal relationship. To know my today self, you would hardly believe that I actively shunned computers, cable TV, and oh anything fancier than my beloved coffee maker for a period of my life. To have known my then self, you would not have believed that at that time I was once on the cutting edge of computer technology only to have the realization that two minutes later I was so behind the curve, I spent years shunning all advancements in protest.

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I rolled over this morning in complete denial of what is becoming my day. I have a to do list that is size of a small truck (a small commerical dump truck) and a slight, late night, coffee hangover.

Now first, coffee should not give this completely addicted human a hangover. But I was cold last night and ran to Starbucks for a pick-me-up. Now, had I been bright, I would have done a hot chocolate (a drink Prince loving refers to as liquid crack) or even a decaf latte. No one has accused me of being bright. Nope, I full caf latte (skim milk and sugar-free vanilla, thankyouverymuch) for me, please. Size? The largest they make, because I’m cold and thirsty, dangit.
The problem is that thanks to delightful cup of joe at 7pm last night, I found myself wide awake at 1am watching the USA TV version of Mystery Men and wondering if “sweet sleep” will ever take me. Finally, I did drift off, only to wake up a few hours later and see that it was 30 minutes past when I needed to get up. THIRTY MINUTES (which is a lifetime in the well-oiled machine I call a morning). I had to get up, get moving, get the boy dressed, dog walked, grab a few things, and get all of us out the door!!! HURRY. HURRY. NOW!
That’s all fine and good, except that my eyes feel like they have glass shards in them, I’ve got a wee headache, I’m not fully functioning yet, and have no real memory of this morning prior to stepping out into the VERY cold car.

This is exactly like a hangover. I thought I was a grown up now. I thought this was behind me. I NEVER thought this was possible with COFFEE. Does this mean that one of the newer things I get to enjoy about my aging 33 year old self is that I’ll be *THAT* woman, “oh, make mine decaf, please. I just can’t have caffenine after 3pm anymore.” PLEASE say it isn’t so. Please promise me that my occasional latte or coffee after dinner isn’t going away. Tell me that I’m not getting older and my beloved coffee beverages are not going to have be part of my past, like the years of drinking beer and punch made in garbage cans.

As you may remember, I used to work. Um, let me rephrase to something that will not give Prince a heart attack.  I used to work for OTHER people.  In fact I had quite a few jobs back in the day.  You know, when I was young and not old and decrepit like I am now.  In fact, some of those various jobs had REALLY bad vacation schedules and worse pocilies around time off.

Now, you have to know that I’m a FIRM believer in time off.  Heck, I ran away from the real world to begin my own business all about helping people with their time off.  I am a fan.  I believe that Americans do not take enough time off for themselves in a given year; I think this leads to more stress; more therapy; and more over eating.  I’ve even been known to have a metal health day or four in my life.

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I’m going to assume that you are all tired of hearing about my new love affair with my robot. I’m seriously loving the clean floors, the automatic nature of setting him loose and coming back to a cat hair, dust bunny free world, except when he escapes and eats a sock. It is so different than anything I could imagine. But alas, I must be boring you with all of that nonsense.

So, I bring you, ‘Postal Revenge,’ a new low chapter in the book that is Frankenhouse and all that Frankenhouse has to offer.

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Have I mentioned lately that I pink, puffy heart my robot? Well, I do. Thus far, he has cleaned my living room, kitchen, Duke’s room, and the hall. I gave him Sunday off — after all it is the day of rest, right? I’m working on getting the rest of the rooms in the house robot ready. Anyway…

This morning, I set the (still nameless robot*) off on his duties to clean the living room again. Now, the robot is supposed to stay in the room and do his thing. I went to work and came back upstairs about an hour later. I still heard the robot working, but I COULD.NOT.FIND.HIM!!! Utoh, my robot was LOST. I wondered where he’d gotten off to. I followed his whir of the vacuum — and I found him in my laundry room. He had broken through his virtual wall and ESCAPED.

Not that I’m upset mind you that he decided he had enough of the living room and went off to explore rooms in greater need of his, um, skills. However, I had not robot proofed the room yet. Let’s just say, laundry room moved up the list — since the robot must want to clean in there pretty badly.  The absolute worst part of it was that I actually said (OUTLOUD): “Hey, what are you doing in here?  You don’t belong in here.”  What exactly did I expect him to do?  Beep his apologies and scurry out and back to the living room where he belongs?

Also note: In addition to the cat hair, carpet fuzz and other gunk the robot ate today, he also ate one of Duke’s socks. Don’t worry, I got him to throw it back up before I had to call sock posion control (it was a dirty sock after all).

*Yes, he’s still nameless — I’ve only been able to decide that the robot is male. I can’t quite figure him out, thus he must be a guy.

Sidenote: Ahem, it takes great skill to begin with a side note. If you are reading this via a reader, I suggest you pop on over and check out the site — I made some noteable updates. Big thanks to db who provides my personal tech support. He’s really good and barely laughes when I take the whole site down because of a newbie error and call him.

Now onto the important updates of the weekend thus far.

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Yes, it is that time again for the sappy post on all the things I’m thankful for. We will have to be waiting for a bowling update, which includes more hours of practice in the alley, a new ball, and other fun. We will also be holding off on a serious discussion of what treasure means to a 3 year old. And finally, we will not be discussing any cat puke (because I know you love it when I do).

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Does anyone even remember me mentioning that I had a photo to share? A photo of Duke from Halloween? Do we remember that there WAS Halloween?

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