Well, we've just gotten home from a 9 hour visit to our local ER, trying to deal with diabetes issues, so I'm wiped out. And still haven't eaten today.

So, brief post today.

My incredible friend Laurie took care of the kids for 5.5 hours tonight. I cannot thank her enough. And the fact that she did my dishes (literally 2 overflowing sinks of them) AND emptied the kid's bathroom garbage can? I may have to consider decadent (and possibly illegal) ways to express my gratitude. Throw in the fact that the living room now looks cleaner than it did when I ran out of the house, entrusting the kids (and messy house) to her daughter Olivia, well, there are no words or thanks big enough. But I'll come up with something. And it just might involve chocolate cake. I'm just saying.

Ergh, more updates tomorrow. Must eat now.

Scene - Morning, Brigit's bedroom

Me: Bring your bumbum over here so we can put on a pull-up.

Brigit: Don't call it a bumbum! It's not yours!

Me: Ok, what should I call it then?

Brigit: Zipper

The Adventures of Dorkboy

July 4, 2009

OMGosh, my mom is sooo lame. She wouldn't let us go see the fireworks tonight because of some "it'll be too late" excuse. Like I ever sleep. Sheesh.

And then, when we were watching those totally crappy TV fireworks instead? She wouldn't even let me dance on her head. What's up with that?

So here I am, in my bed and I can HEAR the fireworks going off RIGHT now. And I'm totally still awa...

Princess Brigit Diaries

July 4, 2009

I don't know why mom won't let me stand on my headboard to look out the window. It's not like I'd get hurt. I mean, when I totally walked right off the ottoman, did I cry about my sprained ankle? Um, ok, what about when I snuck out of the tub, totally wet, and ate it on the bathroom floor? Crap.

Fireworks are pretty. So are bunnies. I'm a princess.

This post is completely and utterly inspired by Mighty Girl and her Mighty Life List, which, hi, was just sponsored by Intel. And how cool is that? I want to be Maggie Mason when I grow up.

However, to be honest, I am not such a Mighty Liza and am instead more of a medium-sized Liza, with very small goals in my life list. These are things that I hope to achieve in the next, say, three months (or sooner!). And, really, the idea of swimming with bioluminescent anything in Puerto Rico scares the shit out of me.

So without further ado - here is the Mini Life List:

• Blog every day in July. None of this half-assed cross-month NaBloPoMo this time. I started on July 1 and will end on July 31. (And hi, why didn't I make this goal in February?)
• Lose 10 lbs. Eh, I first have to convince myself to stand on that old nemesis, Mr. Scale. But I can do this. And I hear that gym membership thing that I have means I can exercise inside the gym and not just visit the emergency childcare area. Who knew?
• Institute nightly or semi-nightly post-dinner walks with the kids. Did you know that I live in the Northwest? Which has never been prettier (or drier)? Why are we inside?
• Buy new glasses. With colored frames. I have crooked ears, which means I have crooked glasses. And every day they get more crooked. I know, you're thinking - why does she not wear contacts? And I'll tell you, because they hurt like a son-of-a-bitch every second of every minute that I have them in my eyes. During my day-long interview for the lovely experience that is my job, I had to take the soul-sucking contacts out midway and pretend that I always had these crooked glasses on my face. That's how much I hate them. But I need new glasses because the crookedness is a bit out of hand, plus I broke the tip of one of the arms-things off. So I hereby resolve to get new glasses. And to get new glasses that are NOT tortoiseshell but are instead something fun and colorful. (Which I will probably hate within a few months, just in time for a new mini life list!)
• Go 1 week without eating anything processed. I was initially going to say, go a week without my family eating anything processed. But I am a realistic working mother.
• Buy a sundress. I currently dress either like my mother (in my brain that comes out like Click and Clack: "Don't dress like my mother" "Don't dress like my mother") or like a college student. A hung-over college student in a too-big t-shirt and boyfriend jeans. And while my mother is indeed a stylish woman, I am not yet sixty-mumblemumble years old, nor am I 20. There is a happy medium in there, and it lives inside a sundress.
• Comment more on the blogs that I read. I don't do a good job at participating so much in this community of bloggers. I read a number of excellent blogs each and every day and am sad when Google Reader doesn't have something new from Flotsam or Suburban Bliss, yet I don't do so much of the commenting. I resolve to be better.
• Learn some kind of heiroglyphic shorthand so I can write notes for blog entries during meetings. Especially long spec meetings where they talk about things like ASPX and WCF, and I am pretending to take scrupulous notes but am really making my mini life list.

Conversation with Brigit, the second time she came out of her room post-bedtime:

"Mommy, what does snow look like?"
"It's white."
"And what does milk look like?"
"It's white too."
"And what do toots look like?"

When I stopped laughing, she followed with a long dissertation on what snowflakes look like (white) and what they sound like (whispers) and what they smell like (sweet).

And then she started screaming because out of the 2 million books crowding her bed, the Mowgli book was missing.

Note to self, buy doorknob covers before the next sunfall or risk going stark raving.