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TGIF?!
TGIF, everyone! Remember how that used to mean something, before you had kids?? Yeah. Me neither. (It’s funny to me how although I can often mix up my days of the week, I’ll never get to Friday and assume it’s any day other than Friday. That one is always correct in my mental calendar.) Fridays always tend to stick out of the week because for most, they represent the promise of a weekend; two days away from the tedium of the workplace. Two days to relax, snack, perhaps nap. Maybe enjoy leisure activities. I’ve heard that people still do that… If you’re not a SAHM, that is. You know, a…
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Can I Get A Doctor?
I’m right here in the throes of it. Sitting here at the kitchen table, waiting for #3 to finish his math homework. Listening to #4’s blaring clarinet wails. Shooting coos of sympathy to the angry teething tyrant, who is muttering in annoyance in his exa-saucer. And in the background, the endless drone of Barney the Dinosaur on Netflix, declaring that the doctor is a friend of his. Not today. Today, the doctor is not a friend of mine. Today’s (mis)adventures actually started yesterday afternoon, when I had the alarming realization that #1 was quite overdue for a vaccination. A vaccination which is required by law, mind you, and our deadline…
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iPhone, myPhone
I shall admit right off the bat that this post is horrendously of the “first-world-problem” nature… #5 had my iPhone in her grubby little clutches today. And that sparked my thoughts here- Despite my general ineptitude regarding all things technological, I DO own an iPhone. Or should I say, my iPhone owns me. Because if it was possible to have a crush on an electronic device -stop your dirty mind right there, please- then my iPhone is the one, baby! Do I get that little thrill when my phone lights up with a text, tweet, or alert? Yes, Yes, I do. Except phone calls. Because if you want…
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Sing, Sing A Song…
I was cooking dinner earlier today, and heard a sound coming from my son’s room that compelled me to tip-toe into his doorway to listen. He was on his computer, playing a battle game. The game’s sword clangs and death cries were expected; it was my son’s own personal instrumental addition that drew me in. As he played, he hummed an intense, driving bit of music that added to the intensity of the game. Like a movie soundtrack, the notes grew more frantic and high-pitched as the game’s pressure ramped up. Ah, so it continues. Music. It may be a genetic quirk. or maybe everyone shares this trait. In my…
