Firing Bullets Takes the Edge Off

There is no reason to even hope for coherence tonight. I haven't slept through a night in a .... century? (Okay, I exaggerate when I'm exhausted, but it's been a long time.) Plus, I'm a teacher. This week was Open House and Grandparents' Day. Fried. Spent. Wiped out. Gah. But yet I have stuff I need to say... so I'm settling for bullets. (The harmless kind.)

* Send good thoughts to my inlaws, and the other 35,000 folks with homes in danger in the Santa Barbara area. (See, my inlaws totally should move closer to us, shouldn't they?) But they love Santa Barbara, and it hasn't even been a year since they finished building their dream retirement home. Took longer than that to build it. So please, good thoughts to Rooster's and Peaches' Grammy and Grampy.

* Rooster loves Andy Glockenspiel. What, you don't know the vocal talents of this enthralling wonder? Oy, how I miss my NPR... but I digress. He has this cd he loves with hokey songs with moral messages, singing praises to Rosa Parks and why it's great to different and all, and since it makes him happy and teaches him something valuable, I can endure. But there's nothing my little scripty boy likes better than to toss a lyric at you when you least expect it. Yesterday, I reached my limit of patience (before most of you even woke up!) and starting grumbling and getting a little up in his face. Nonplussed, Rooster got even closer to my face and laid a little Glockenspiel wisdom down on me, not quite singing as he said: "You're gonna get hit by your KAR-MA, and that ain't good!"

* We made the trek to the developmental pediatrician's office today (we = the two kids and me) and when Peaches heard we were going to "the doctor," she said, "So you won't be mad anymore?" Yes, I'm working on signing up for anger management classes, Peeps... it's on the to do list. In chapter 66. Or 666. Or something.

* Rooster and Peaches each made me Mother's Day gifts in their classes. They both enjoyed the very much. I didn't get a bite, a sniff, or to read a word, but they tell me they were delicious, beautiful, and heartfelt, thank them very much. Someone needs to explain that all presents in the whole world are not just for them, but I am not up to it just yet.

* I bought the tix. The Rooster Clan heads East in June. We're renting a house so that my mom and stepdad can hang with J and the kids while I'm at my conference in D.C. I've nearly broken down just thinking about how crazy we are to try this. So crazy that the developmental pediatrician, who has no idea I'm dumb enough to try to travel with my brood, hugged me during our visit, watching my two kids destroy her office, and said, "I do not know how you do it. We have got to get you some help. I'm going to be researching some this weekend. You guys need the right meds, and I'm not stopping till I find them, and you need some babysitters, and some respite. These two are ...." She never found a word. During our visit she did make a few references to zoo animals though.
That being said, if you live in or near D.C., please know that I've been desperately trying to figure out how to attend a conference, tend to my family, and see all of you. If I figure out how to see you, please forgive the state we're in. If I don't get to see you, please don't hate me. And if I do get to see you, please don't hate me. (Guilt issues abounding at present.)
* Six pounds down! Four to go! Dare I publish this and jinx myself? Send me will power, peeps, and lots of it.
* And, biggest news story of all: Pixie Mama is coming! Pixie Mama will be visiting me in two weeks. I can hardly believe it. I'm very excited. Many blog posts will ensue, I am sure.

I send all the mamas out there gigantic hugs, and wishes for joy, rest, and satisfaction. In the same vein, to all those people who help me be a mama (with your wisdom or patience or your tips on GFCF bakeries or your special efforts to include my kids or celebrate their birthdays), whether you have kids or not, I say Happy Mother's Day to you, with lots of love.