This morning I woke up to find a very discourteous cold sore busted out all over my lip. My lip was all, WTF? And the sore was all, WHAT? I haven’t seen you since college graduation day 1995 – Go Green! Hi Mom!

The other night mimi wanted to play musical chairs. We were too lazy mean tired to play, so we stalled her with all kinds of questions like where she intended to find a record player at this late hour and what she planned to do about the fact that her little brother was very sensitive to losing these sorts of games, and wouldn’t she rather just sit quietly leafing through her books? Her response went something like this:

“Well, I thought we could turn the digital cable on to the 80’s party music channel and we would just hit mute when it was time to sit down. Wixi won’t get upset because at school we always play with enough chairs so that no one gets sad or feels left out. After we play I’ll get my jammies on and read my books in bed to help me fall asleep. Kay? K.”

As we circled the chairs – T. demanded to know, in what kind of commie preschool had I enrolled his children?

My husband’s been trying to get me out of the house for years. He has this crazy idea that getting together with my girlfriends for dinner and a drink is good for my soul. To him I ask, Is there something wrong with my soul? It’s not that I don’t want to break free of the energy sucking, multitasking vortex that has me feeling anxious and a little bit numb – the truth is that I work all day and when I come home, I want to be with my kids. Even if they are hanging on me like monkeys and driving me bananas, I want to be with my kids. My friends seem to feel the same way too.
In fact, we’re all a bit mystified as to how our partners can come home after not seeing the kids all day and take off again to play golf without feeling the teensiest bit guilty. I finally mustered the gumption to ask. Don’t worry, I used my best non-accusatory, just trying to gather some information to help out my species, voice. Here’s what I learned. Apparently, my husband DOES feel guilty about it. But he knows intellectually that if he’s happy, the kids will be happy. According to his equation, golf = happy kids. He always was better at math than me.
Anyway, I’m finally taking his advice. Tonight, I’m going out with the girls, and there will be nudity people.

Boobage for nursing babies does too count. Yes, they HAVE to come and it’s still a girls night out. It is too.

Well, our little adoptee finally arrived. When I came home from work, mimi was at the door holding a little styrofoam container and smiling like there was a year’s supply of candy rings inside and not a dead bloated tadpole. I knew he was a goner before I opened the little death capsule – ACME Tadpole Corp. had mailed him off during the hottest week of the year. It was 98 degrees outside and probably 300 degrees in the mail truck. Since I couldn’t convince the kids to wait until morning to say their hellos (which would have given us time to either find a new tadpole (where the hell I don’t know), or do a google search on how to introduce the death of a tadpole to two very sheltered children), I had to just open the box right then and there.

Of course he was dead. I told you, I knew he was dead all along. I knew he was dead before I sent in the slip to order his ass. I knew he was dead the minute mimi unwrapped his pathetic little habitat. Still, I told the children he was sleeping. Sue me.

I’ve been putting off the “stranger danger” talk with big sis for awhile now. Years in fact. So I wasn’t too surprised when she started giving me advice about how to avoid strangers lurking in the bushes outside our house. On one hand, I was relieved not to be the one forever associated with ruining her carefree, innocent existence. On the other hand, I got a sinking feeling that it was quite possible we had left it to a complete stranger to give our child the “stranger danger” talk.

I asked her to tell me what she knew about staying safe. And here is how I know my child will be attending the next available offering of Safety Town:

1. Mean strangers wear camouflage pants (like daddy’s from boot camp that are now great for playing dress-up)

2. Mean stangers carry guns

3. It hurts when kids get dead

4. It doesn’t hurt as bad for adults to get dead, so adults should step in to save kids