No Bugs Bunny, keeps me sane

Bed time routines are a bloody nightmare, am I right???

I am not a morning person, by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve never been one. The Husband, on the other hand, loses all cognitive ability after eight p.m. This was always a problem when we were younger and childless because he would clock out when I reached my energy peak, as you can imagine, this made many things difficult, not the least of which was sex. Over the years we’ve managed to find the middle ground on most things (the ones where both of us have to be active and present at least) and we’ve divided up the things that occur at our respective “best” times of day. Basically, I’m not expected to function rationally in the morning, so he takes over the child-readying operations while I’m in charge of anything that happens in the evening. It works out great for us. He gets up early, has a nice relaxed breakfast with his newspaper and no one talking and or needing anything from him, he makes everyone juice, he comes upstairs and wakes me and the kids, and takes care of all the wrangling, washing, brushing, and feeding that is necessary to get to preschoolers out of the house. While I only have to concentrate the two neurons that are actually active and awake in my brain on getting just myself washed, dressed, and fed in the absolute peace and quiet necessary to avoid my head exploding first thing in the morning.

Of course after dinner, I’m in charge of the reading of bedtime stories, brushing of teeth, and yelling like a deranged person to get the same two preschoolers into their damn beds and staying there. I’m also in charge of the repeated serving of water to quench the torturous thirst that presents itself whenever I try to leave the room. I imagine The Husband is sitting in bed, relaxed, and laughing at me the entire time.

Hands down, I think, bedtime is worst than the morning routine. I’ve done the morning routine, while barely functional, and it just doesn’t elicit the same levels of stress and murderous rage that the bedtime routine brings on. Every night, it’s one more book, they have to pee (again), they have to tell me something “super, super, important” right as I’m walking out the door, they lose their luvvies, they need me to tuck them in again and again, and they are so thirsty, so parched, that nothing less than at the very least three separate drinks of water will satisfy them. It takes half an hour to get them to settle down (after they’ve been washed and effectively put into bed for the first time), at the end of which I mostly just want to kill them. It’s very frustrating, mainly because without their constant interruptions and requests our bedtime routine is actually quite sweet. Once they’re in bed, I do a little bad dream banishing magic, I sing them a song, and then we say “good night, I love you miles and miles, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite”, except that the Girl for some reason didn’t get the bed bugs part, so she would say something unintelligible, which later turned out to be “no bugs bunny”. I have no idea why, I mean, she likes Bugs, Loony Tunes was her favorite show for a while there, and yet every night it’s “sleep tight, no bugs bunny”. So of course, all of us started saying it that way, because, honestly, who could resist, but I feel kind of bad for Bugs, banished from our bedtime routine, for no apparent reason.

So bedtime makes me crazy, except for that moment when two little voices yell “no bugs bunny, mama” at my retreating back as I hightail it out of their room for the fifteenth, and hopefully final, time.

The flu, gay families, and other thoughts

The flu this year is a bloody nightmare. I’ve had it twice now. And no, I don’t get a flu shot. Incidentally, I was totally amazed at how commonplace the flu shot is in the US now (not so when I was a kid), every drugstore has the “flu-shot available”, “get your flu shot” signs out, even the pediatrician asked if my kids had had their flu shots… why does everyone in the US need to get a flu shot? (Also, the chicken pox vaccine… what the hell?)

We have a great family doctor here, who comes to the house and everything, so we saw him this week as we’ve all been felled by the flu, and I mentioned the pervasiveness of flu shots in the US, and he said something to the effect that he’d recently read a study about how, statistically, Americans are less healthy than Europeans, so maybe that’s why. Sweeping generalizations aside though, I don’t get it, in Italy mostly only the elderly, the very sickly, or people who work in healthcare or childcare positions get flu shots, the rest of us just either get the flu and get over it or don’t get it at all. Anyway, I had it twice this year, felt like death run over, survived both times, and am now hopefully done until next winter.

I recently started reading this blog: Mommy Man: adventures of a gay super dad, which, incidentally, is just more proof, if more proof were needed, that a two dad family, or a two mom family, or a mom/dad family, or a just one parent family, or a two parents plus multiple step parent family all really just sound the same when talking about their children. Anyway, Jerry wrote this post: How to talk to your children about gay parents, by a gay parent. It was a good post, nothing earth shattering, just a lot of common sense, which, alas, is apparently lacking in a lot of people.

And I’m not even talking about the far-right, ultra-conservative, don’t believe in evolution and God speaks to me directly whack jobs that we wish were just a figment of an overly-zealous Hollywood writer’s imagination, I’m talking about otherwise reasonable people. This piece has been published in quite a few places, and the comments on it just blow my mind, I don’t know how the author keeps his head from exploding, seriously, exploding brains all over his computer screen. Even the respectful comments, most of them run along the lines of great, I’m sure he’s an awesome dad, but kids need a mom and a dad, gay families are actually harming these children because they’re not giving them something intrinsically, atavically important, which are the biological parents. Or something along those lines anyway.

Really?

Can we all agree, first off, that children mostly just need to be loved? And that, frankly, there are more different combinations of families out there than most of us can even imagine. Cause there are kids being raised by single parents, and kids being raised by grandparents or other family members, and kids being raised by step parents, and by the state, there are also kids being raised by complete assholes whether they be biological or not, and any of these combinations are pretty much acceptable and accepted (even the assholes) but for some reason two same-sex parents is just more than our minds can conceive?

I was talking to the husband about this once and I was surprised to hear him say that ideally kids should be raised by a mom and a dad. But then I thought about it and, sure, ideally, kids should be raised by a mom and a dad, ideally the mom should stay home and take care of the family and be happy while doing so, the dad should make a comfortable salary and always be home in time for dinner, ideally they should all be happy and healthy and vacation at the beach every year. But we live in the real world, not in a sitcom set in 1958. There is no ideal, there’s just several billion people on the planet trying to live their lives to the best of their abilities, and some of them are gay and some of them want to raise families and so some of them will adopt or find a surrogate or a sperm donor and start a family, and this affects me and my life not even remotely.

And it is no harder to explain to a child than a hundred difficult situations, if done with a little common sense.

Personally, I’m not a gigantic fan of surrogacy, because there’s a lot, A LOT, of kids that need families and should be adopted, but adopting is a long and difficult process, even for a “traditional” family, and some people just have a very strong pull towards the biological imperative of genetically reproducing themselves, so who am I to say that they shouldn’t? I did (reproduce myself, that is).

So as long as they’re loving their children, and raising them, and just generally doing their jobs as parents, what do we have to be so judgy of? After all, we’re all going to manage to screw up our kids one way or another, right?

 

And on a conclusive, and completely unrelated note, does anyone else watch White Collar? Because, Matt Bomer is unequivocally hot, but doesn’t Time Dekay also have a little “je ne sais quoi…”? No? Just me?

Slightly alarming news on all fronts

So the Pope announced he’s stepping down from his office because he can’t deal with the pressure of being the leader of the Catholic Church. Considering he’s 85, and the present state of the Catholic Church, I can’t say I blame him. In fact, I commend him, because seriously, I’m pretty tired of seeing men, enfeebled by their age, health, and general constitution hanging on dentured tooth and brittle nail to their position of power despite the fact that they are unable to face the responsibilities and duties thereof. (See 90% of Italian politicians, parliamentarians, and CEOs for examples of this)

So, hats off Benedict XVI, because for once a man in power put his office first, and in this case, his church and his congregation first, rather than his pride. I wasn’t a huge fan of this Pope, but with his actions he has really made an impression on me, and has, frankly, changed my opinion of his character and his motivations completely. Not that he gives a poop about my opinion, I’m just putting it out there.

Also, with this completely out of the blue announcement he’s given the Italian, and world, press something to talk about other than the Italian elections and Berlusconi’s imminent (or not) comeback because oh my god the tedium! So hopefully for the next two weeks we won’t be bombarded with wholly uninteresting and mostly gross images of our main party candidates in various compromising positions or looking all out moronic in the eyes of the world, no, we get to read about a bunch of cardinals duking it out over who gets to be supreme ruler of the world (or so they think). Church politics in lieu of actual politics, just as heated, slightly less tawdry, so I for one, am popping the pop corn and uncorking the wine (hey, Jesus would totally approve), and waiting for the white smoke to tell me how my life is not going to be even remotely affected by what the conclave decides.

And, in other disturbing thoughts: Want to know how I found out the Pope was resigning? Facebook. Yes. Facebook. In fact, 90% of the world news I hear of I’ve gleaned off of either facebook or twitter (5% from the radio, but this is rare as I only listen to my own playlists now, and the remaining 5% from the Husband’s weekly news recap – which he instituted to prevent me from sounding like a complete dimwit when talking to other adults, because I don’t ever read a newspaper). Actually, not just world news, but also gossip, entertainment news, and what my friends are up to, all that comes from facebook and twitter.

It’s equal parts scary and sad. I would tell you that right now, right this minute as I’m writing this I’m all resolved to get better at keeping myself informed on current events, but if history is any indication (and frankly I’m more familiar with history than the present) I will be no more and no better informed tomorrow than I am today. And I’m strangely ok with that.

Chit-Chat Tuesday on Friday (cause I can’t seem to get my shazit together)

Off and on I’ve tried to write chit-chat Tuesday posts, as a sort of spin-off of the virtual coffee posts I used to do (on Moomser), because I liked just writing to chat and catch people up on (and remind myself of) all the mundane stuff we’d been doing. I haven’t been all that consistent. But then I figured, considering the scarce posting I’ve got going on on this blog anyway, I can probably chit-chat with my one or two readers on any unspecific day of the week as long as I’m posting something already. So anyway…

I’ve been watching two shows kind of obsessively lately. Now that I think about it, I seem to do everything obsessively lately. This summer I read obsessively, for example. No great works of literature, mind you, just easy, pleasant, reads. Over 300$ worth of easy, pleasant reads, in fact, as I surmised this week by looking over my amazon charges from June, July and August. Which is astounding, if you think about it, as most of the books I bought were on sale for 1.99. Then in September I started going to the gym obsessively. I went from not setting foot in a gym for the last six years to practically pitching a tent and moving in to one. I went everyday for a month, and now I go three to four times a week. As I said, obsessive.

But going to the gym has obviously let to other “spiraling out of control” behaviors like: obsessive tv watching. Because, you see, I hate the gym, hate it with a passion and honestly a healthy degree of supercilious arrogance borne from years and years as a “dancer”, the gym was for those other people. And now here I am, completely gym obsessed. But back to the tv shows. I need entertainment to go to the gym, otherwise I would want to shoot myself after ten minutes on the treadmill, so I started downloading episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” on my ipad and watching it when I do cardio-type stuff. It keeps my brain from realizing my body’s pedaling furiously or running (slowly) absolutely nowhere for 20 minutes.

I don’t know if/how much that show was popular in the US, though it’s on it’s 8th season at this point, so not too badly, I imagine. In any case, I think it’s funny and it passes the time, which is precisely what I’m going for, so it’s a perfect gym companion. Although the other day, I realized how badly it was trying to be Friends, but somehow failing at it, for some inexplicable reason. Barney channels Chandler constantly he even does the same arm flailing run out of the room that Chandler did, Ted wants to be Ross so badly but without Rachel it just doesn’t work, Marshall is a good, yet not quite as funny Joey, and Robin fails at Rachel just as badly as Lilly sucks at being Monica. It’s a Friends wannabe, but a good one nonetheless. And if you haven’t ever seen the show that last paragraph likely made no sense, so I apologize.

My mom was here last week, and she left me with a renewed lack of confidence regarding my cooking skills (she’s an awesome cook, and though generally I’m not a bad cook, when she’s in town most of the stuff I make ends up being inedible. I think it’s a passive aggressive method my brain uses, unbeknownst to me, to get her to cook for us.) as well as an awesome way to trick my ipad into thinking it’s in the US (something to do with IP addresses – if you’re interested email me and I’ll explain it) so I can now login to Netflix and Hulu and a whole host of other sites that are sucking away whatever small amount of free time I had left. In fact, I’ve started watching Scandal. I highly recommend it.

So between finally being able to watch American tv shows for free on my ipad and the gym, I’ve been obsessively watching tv. I need to get a life.

Another consequence of this health kick I’ve been on is that I decided to do one of those crazy insane no carbs, no sugar, just protein and certain vegetables, go into ketosis -type diets. Only for ten days, thank god, but right now ten days feels like just way too long. Although it’s getting better, the first three days were terrible I had a headache, I was jittery, I was cranky and high-strung, I craved sugar and bread to an almost uncontrollable degree, it felt, for all intents and purposes, how I imagine drug withdrawal to feel like. Now I’m just hungry all the time. For some reason, protein just doesn’t give me that “I’m full” signal, or rather, it does for like half an hour, and then my body and mind go into panicked “give me food, I’m starving” mode. As per several people’s suggestions I’ve been chewing a lot of gum. Even my jaws are getting nicely toned at this point.

I just hope it’s worth it. Also, I never thought I’d be excited about fruit, but next week I get to start eating fruit again, and right now fruit elicits the same anticipation and glee as chocolate would have. I know, that’s kind of sad.

Lastly, I’ve decided it’s time for the Boy to lose the diaper at night. I’ll let you know how it goes. Although, this decision hasn’t made it’s way from my decider to the actual physical world so let’s not hold our breath or anything, but I am starting to consider it and that’s a step in the right direction right? I just don’t want to be laundering peed upon sheets from now till kingdom come, you know? Now that I think about it… he doesn’t really need to be diaperless yet, does he?

And on that note…

I’m over, and out.

Some things you simply don’t want to forget.

The past few days have just flown by, I know, cliché but it’s my life theme, no time, no time, no time! The kids are getting so big, so big! (And yes, I’m getting so old, so old…) So I’m going to start doing something I had decided not to do on this blog: write monthly or weekly (or possibly daily) about my children. About how wonderfully wonderful they are, about all the things that tickle me and make me laugh and piss me off to high heaven.  Things I didn’t want to write about, not because I don’t think they belong on a blog, because they do, they absolutely do, I love bloggers that post letters to their kids, they make me happy. But me, well, I have a language problem, because you see half the cute (and infuriating) things my kids do are things they say and how do I do that when 99% of my readers are English-speaking and my kids do funny things in Italian and Portuguese and yes, sometimes, rarely, in English. I’m not showing off, I swear, this isn’t a – aren’t my children gifted and special because they speak three languages – post (they don’t actually even speak one language fully yet, though, you know). I know first-hand how easy it is and well, natural it is, to learn a language when from the day you come out into the world you’ve got people speaking to you in different languages. So really my kids aren’t all that special. (Even though they are, they so are).

But suddenly it’s more important for me to record, to indelibly imprint on what has somehow become the official archive, repository, library or what have you, of human… well, everything,  all the things I really, really don’t want to forget than it is to write posts that actually make sense to everybody out there. So, forgive me, in advance, but I’m sure you understand, the things they do, the everyday things, the magical, recordable things, must be preserved and my once impeccable penmanship has gone the way of the cassette player, I’ve given in to the fact that I’ll never write, legibly or illegibly, with pen on paper quite as fast as I can type with finger on keyboard. So there you have it, my childrens’ journals, elegant black journals, lie unopened under many inches of dust with only a few entries to their name.

On Wednesday afternoons I take my kids to baby basketball (for three to five-year olds) they play together, the Boy started it in the spring and the instructor told me I could bring the Girl in September even though she’s not quite three yet. So they play together, but the first lesson, now several weeks ago, I was on pins and needles the entire time because the girl was so obviously little compared to the other kids. She made a massive effort, chasing after the ball, trying to follow the directions, and generally having a grand old time, I, on the other hand, was mentally fixated on the fact that she ran so obviously like a toddler, slightly knock-kneed, with her feet off at an angle and her entire body rocking from side to side. It was so damn adorable I hate myself for not taking video of it. Now, less than four weeks later she runs like a big girl, it took no time at all, she grew up in such an obvious way in no time it all it blows my mind. And I almost missed it, I almost didn’t even notice that she changed the way she runs. I read this post today, go read it because it’s good, but it made me think that we never really do notice the lasts, we only notice the firsts, but the lasts are just as important.

That day at basketball, was probably the last time she ran like a toddler and I noticed, and I’m so happy I did. So that’s why I’m going to make more of an effort to record what they do and you, dear reader, will just have to bear with me (or ignore me).

p.s. tonight we were talking about stink bugs, because we are surrounded by them, every year right before the first frosts, they set up camp outside and try their damnedest to come inside, where it’s nice and warm.  All day, I kill stink bugs. Tonight I had just about had it when a stupid bug made a beeline for my head (they love my hair for some reason) and so I yelled at the husband to come kill the stupid thing. The stupid bug is called Cimice in Italian and for half an hour after the fact the Girl walked around asking to see the cimida (rhymes with timid, shy, which it so is not!), where was the cimida, was it still in the toilet or did it go for a swim? She even took her brother to the bathroom to explore the toilet bowl in case it was still in there.

Did this little story make sense to anyone but me? Probably not, but I totally want to not forget it. So there.

(also, she says yayeio for aereo – airplane, I’m so going to miss this baby talk part of their lives, especially cause it’s sure to be followed, after only a brief respite, by the cursing is cool part of their lives).

Coffee and Chit Chat

Hello dear friends, and welcome to coffee. If we were really meeting for coffee, I’d tell you about the last few days.

I’ve mentioned before that I have some really good friends here and the more I talk about it the more proof I have that it’s true. Last week we organized a girls’ movie night, one of our friends is going through a really crappy divorce (I know divorce is always crappy, but sometimes you luck out and the person you are divorcing is a mature, compassionate, sensible and responsible human being, in this case however he is an immature, irresponsible, arrogant, inconsiderate, piece of horse shit), so she needs regular distractions from her situation. So we decided to go see Magic Mike (which was still on at the theatre here). And why yes, we wanted to go see it for the articles.

First a note about the movie itself, for those who haven’t seen it: It was generally pretty horrific. The men though hot, were not really sexy… I don’t know, I just can’t get behind the whole man in a thong thing (pun intended!) and the parts where they aren’t stripping are pretty boring, so it’s basically the movie equivalent of Fifty Shades, that said, we had fun.

Seeing the movie itself was not without its obstacles, we decided to go see it last Friday, and last Wednesday they took it out of the movies. So I downloaded it on my ipad, but obviously, we couldn’t all watch it off an ipad. The only one of us (the soon to be divorcee) who didn’t have kids or a husband at home, didn’t have a tv built in the last century to which we could hook up the ipad (guess who took her new tv…). It took awhile, but we finally found a place to go laugh, and whoop, and act like drunk college students (or cougars, whichever you prefer), the Husband’s office. (He gets his own post about what a wonderful husband he is later in the week). He set up a big screen in his office, hooked it up for us, got us comfortable chairs and left us with the keys and the “don’t get too drunk” speech.

Today, another friend gave me an awesome belated birthday present, she invited me to her house for coffee, but was waiting for me outside, got in my car and directed me to an undisclosed location – her beautician, of whose massage skills she’s been waxing poetic for months. So I got a wonderful surprise massage instead of coffee today, and then we had a quick lunch. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world! (Also, the most relaxed)

I would like to go on, as I haven’t done a virtual coffee in a long time, but nap time is almost over so my time’s up. I’m going to try and get back into the swing of virtual coffee every week, I’ve missed it, and it’s a great way to catch up!

Till next time then, for now, toodles!

 

Only hot, young, guys need apply

It’s 2.30pm and I’m still in my workout clothes. At this point I’m not even going to shower and change out of them cause I have Yoga in another 4 hours so what’s the point. I mean, seriously, showering, shaving, washing my hair, blow drying it (cause I’m a wimp and can’t go out in wet hair when it’s chilly anymore)… only to get back into a very similar workout outfit? Talk about a hassle.

It’s 2.30 pm and it’s the first time I open the computer today. How does that even happen? I haven’t checked my emails, haven’t been on facebook, haven’t visited any of my “daily reads” blogs. And this is exactly what it’s been like for the past ten days, honest to God, I don’t know how this happens.

It’s not like I did anything earth shattering today, or any other day last week, in fact. I get up, I wrangle the kids, I take them to school, I run errands, I go to the gym for what feels like four, but is actually closer to one and a half, hours, I come home, I eat, I get the kids, I put them down for their naps and BAM! It’s 2.30. What the hell??

This nonsense started almost two weeks ago, when, getting up from the couch with a pain in my back, I decided I was done with feeling like I’m a hundred and three. My grandma, who is actually almost a hundred and three is more limber than I. I spent my days recently with pain in my shoulder, in my hip, in my lower back, in my knee. I have neither fallen or been in an accident. Is there any reason on this green earth why an otherwise healthy woman of some thirty odd years of age should have such a list of ailments? Absolutely not! Is the thought that started me on this road of not having any time for faffing around. Because I started going to the gym. Every day. E.v.e.r.y. d.a.y. for an hour and a half. With, thank god, a very cute personal trainer.

In fact, if he wasn’t quite so young, and fit, and blonde and blue-eyed, and smiley, and cute, I probably would have throat punched him by now. Because the pain I was in before is nothing compared to the pain I’m in now. The pain I’m in now laughs in the face of the pain I was in before. I’m doing squats, and lunges, and all manner of outlandish movements on weighted medieval torture devices. And then I walk, oh my lord, I walk for like forever, uphill, then downhill, then at a faster or a slower pace, I walk, and walk, and walk, and by god, I don’t go anywhere. Talk about frustrating.

And that’s why it’s 2.30pm and I’m sitting here for the first time all day, finally in front of my long forgotten friend, wondering if I’m too stinky to just stay like this until yoga tonight or if I really should go shower, and change into a fresh pair of yoga pants. All this so I can fit back into all the marvelous clothes I have in my closet and I can play with my kids without creaking and huffing, puffing and jiggling and complaining. Ugh.

Chit Chat and Virtual Coffee

I haven’t done a virtual coffee post in so long, I’m not even sure I remember how to do one! Of course, I’ve never done one on this here blog, so most of you are probably going, huh?? I did almost forty on my other blog so this feels like going back to an old friend, but from a new place. Maybe I should stop blabbing and just get on with it…

Hello dear friends, and welcome to coffee!

Today I’m feeling chatty, but haven’t got an awful lot to say, so it’s just going to be one of those posts….

We’re finally in full on summer mode here, I know that seems weird to most Americans whose summer vacations are almost over but in Italy it goes from mid June to mid September. Entirely too long in my opinion, but no one’s asking me.

I’ve officially moved to the beach for the month, yes, the month. I’m doing the Italian housewife thing and taking the kids to the beach for the summer. Of course, most housewives here who are lucky enough to have a beach house spend the entire summer at the seaside but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, one month is more than enough, I’ve got a vegetable garden to tend to at home after all!

The husband inherited/bought an apartment on the Italian Riviera Ligure last year from his mother and we spent all of last summer renovating it, so this year we get to enjoy it, and let me tell you, it’s perfect. I’m not bragging, it’s perfectly perfect for us. It’s small enough to clean and keep orderly without me wanting to kill myself but large enough so we can have friends visit with minimal inconvenience to all. It’s a 30 second (literally) walk from the beach and has everything you could possibly need within a 2 minute walk range. It’s not a glamorous, nor trendy town, there are few really good restaurants and to say most locals are rude is an understatement, but it’s comfortable, there are shows and various entertainment for kids almost every night, the beach is sandy and the water is shallow for miles, so it’s perfect for young children.

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Our BFFs came to visit last week for a few days. There were six (and a half) of us, my pregnant friend, her two kids, myself and my two kids. Let me just say that, contrary to what I had previously thought two kids plus two kids does not equal four kids; two kids plus two kids equals a herd of elephants. On speed. We survived, however, and hopefully they’ll come back and visit next week too.

I’ve discovered both my children are incredible homebodies (trait that they did NOT inherit from me), who have a low tolerance for being far from their familiar surroundings. After a week here they started asking when we’re going home, I’m having a hard time explaining to them that this is their home too.

I’m in the process of co-writing a children’s book with a friend, the process is driving me crazy. I don’t get how real writers do it… It’s a book about a tractor and his capers, it goes with an educational dvd series my friend is producing (filming, editing, and any other ing you can think of), so it’s her idea… but boy, co-writing is hard. Or maybe it’s just hard for me, I need to work on my team playing skills, or something.

On a related (but also not) note, I’ve started taking Bach Flowers for my moods. I went through a mild depression a few months ago, at which point I had decided to ditch my husband and my nanny and run off with the kids, though I hadn’t actually figured out where to… Instead (thank God!) I started following the Mood Cure (not going to get into it, but you can click on the link for more info), ditched only my old blog and miraculously started feeling better. Right now I just have sporadic moments of craziness that I’ve decided to temper with Bach Flowers. I’m focusing mostly on trying to be more patient, so I’m taking a flower called Impatiens (har, har) and, though not miraculous, I am feeling some improvement, I’ve stopped yelling at my kids full-time and am now mean mama only some of the time. We’re all quite relieved. I’m hoping on a reappearance of fun mama soon, as I, and the kids, quite liked her.

Unfortunately, my blogging respite has ended as naptime’s almost over (what do moms of older kids do for free time during the summer I wonder?). Thanks for stopping by to chat, please tell me what’s going on with you, I really want to know!

Toodles, M