***I am late with my Friday Fragments because I forgot that I was babysitting my 1 yr old niece today (the one with the Sharpie addiction, but my sister said she gave up pungent permanent markers for Lent, so I was safe besides a few withdrawal willies she might have.)
I sat down at my computer with my coffee for my morning ritual and the doorbell rang. Crap. I spent the next 3 hrs trying to keep her out of my oven and clothed. Now that she can't get baked off of the fumes of Sharpies...? I guess she's quite literal- smart kid- that one!
Don't worry, the oven is not usually a play option at my house (unless a kid's bad, of course), but I am baking chocolate cheesecake cupcakes for my daughter's birthday celebration (and inevitable diet failure again this week) tonight. Every time I turned around my neice was missing another piece of clothing and trying to climb into the oven!
In related news- I'm accepting children for my new daycare- JUST KIDDING- I'd rather jump in the oven!
***Actually, I am becoming my mother. My mom is not a 'sitter' type. She's a great grandma and adores my kids, but prefers my presence and for me to take them with me when I leave- she's a firm believer in "no child left behind". I have always envied the people that have parents that would PAY YOU to watch their grand kids. I can already see that I will not be one of those grandparents. Them: Mom, can you watch the kids tonight? Me: Umm, you sure you can't find ANYONE else?
*** Daylight savings time is kicking my kids' butts. We need to leave the house by 7:30 to get to school on time. They've been waking up at 7:12 exactly. It's not working for us- I know ya'll dig the extra daylight, but I'm asking for a refund, thanks anyway.
*** Birthday season is officially over, ahhhh. My daughter turned 10 yesterday- I will post her Happy Birthday post this weekend. No more birthdays till NOVEMBER- yeah!
***Through raising four kids- I'm quite confident that the phrase that I have uttered more than any other is - "what is THE ONLY thing we draw on?" Usually after I find marker or crayon on the carpet, the walls, the furniture, clothing, their skin... I received this e-mail the other day- so glad to see I am not alone... and that our dog has so much fur- they COULDN'T find his skin if they wanted to draw on it...
***Ok- I gotta go there and I'm not saying this to stir up any pots or because I have balls of steel (because that would be cold and uncomfortable and you would need one of these to match...)
but... the mama drama that is the Boobgate controversy this week in the blogosphere- did anyone catch this? Wow! Nuts! I was, and kind of still am, speechless about all the brouhaha. I wouldn't share a boob or a baby, that's just me. I remember being totally freaked out by The Hand that Rocks the Cradle when Rebecca DeMornay nursed the baby that she nannied. If that makes me an unrefined, prude, closed-minded, Western thinker, so be it. If I witnessed it, I gotta say, I probably would have blogged about it, and man, I would have been fucked. These ladies got real worked up about this. I'm looking over my shoulder as I write this.
Engorgement is the one of the worse feelings ever- I know, but I don't like attention drawn to me, so I could have an alien arm coming out of my asshole and I would ignore the pain because I just like to blend in to the crowd- nothing to see hear, folks- just a 7 fingered skinny limb hanging out of my anus. I'll just take the pain, thank you, may I have another?
What makes me sad is that there was so much hatred and defensiveness and bullying. Everyone has their opinions. If someone attacked me and a decision I made, I'd definitely be hurt, but I think I'd take it up with that person on an individual basis and work it out.
This whole scenario freaked me out and, sorry dudes, it had nothing to with boobs. I was freaked out because I could have seen me writing the same kind of thing and then getting attacked for it- it scared me. For a second, and just a second, I thought I should be more careful and start censoring myself until I get those balls of steel and matching dildo.
*** Cancer sucks donkey balls- that's a give in. Here's the embarassing (yet, grateful) part... I kind of haven't known anyone with it. My family's demise is a bird of a different feather- heart disease. I know cancer is horrid and I am overwhelmed by the strength of people that have lived with it and watched it attack their loved ones. Their stories touch me and I wonder if I could handle it.
True story that makes me look kind of bad... an old boyfriend 'friended' me on Facebook. I went to look at his pictures and saw his wife and vainly and vicsously my mind went to- eh- she's not that cute. Come to discover, she is a breast cancer survivor-something of a local celebrity for her work with rasing money for cancer research, she was diagnosed when she was 17. I am a fucking heel. Her story is pretty amazing and I'm still ashamed of myself for thinking the way I did.