Google as a Character Witness

Or - Things That Might Could Get You Arrested

My recent Google search history includes the following:

child broken ribs
define mendacious
midnight crazies
drain flush
rush copley
Dunlay's on the Square
where to buy mourning veil

Sure, I could explain these things individually. But they're much funnier when put together and submitted without comment.

P.S. No ribs were broken. I think.

Lightbulb Moment

Ready for this?

Staying in a hotel is just like being a kid and living with your parents.

Someone else cooks, you pile up dishes but never wash them, you have a room that gets messy and eventully someone else steps in and cleans it. There's always clean towels, and you're not the one cleaning them.

Holy shit. I'm going to go home and assign extra chores right now. No way these kids are staying at the Momma's Head Hilton!

To Sleep, or Not to Sleep

Sleep is a subject that is near and dear to my heart. While I'm pretty sure that most mothers will admit to not getting enough sleep, I've read some scary numbers on just how many of us are popping Ambien or chewing Tylenol PM like they're Reese's Pieces. My normal inclination to any problem that smacks of, "It's all in your head" is to say, "Yes, it's all in your head, now stop it."
Editor's note: This does not include clinical depression, or children with things like ADHD, bipolar disorder, etc.
While I'd like to scoff at these women and repeat a line from my favorite faux children's story - Go the Fuck to Sleep - I just can't.
Because I'm one of them.
Either I sit there in the dark reviewing all the things that haven't been done at home or for the kids or my husband or the dogs or the car or how I should really apologize for every rotten thing I've ever done to anyone.... or I toss back those great blue pills and sleep the sleep of the medicated. Of course it's not every night, but enough nights to safely say that something must be way out of whack when you just can't calm your mind long enough to rest.
Most women I know don't really talk about this. We just accept it as a fact of parenthood. But is this the mental price we pay for trying to do it all? Is it worth it?

Stupid Helots

School has once again given me a bit of a nervous twitch. While I'm in the middle of writing a paper about something I don't care about, and quoting people that may or may not have existed, and either way were full of shit.... a funny thing happens. All of a sudden I get into a rhythm, and my focus is razor sharp, and all the pieces come together and I have all the answers, and know exactly where to pull my references to make my point.
Wonder if that's what using meth is like.

Right now I'm sleep deprived and just handed in a paper that probably has no less than 3 different styles of citations. Stupid citations.

Stupid helots.

I'm on my waaaaay ....

That there is a nod not to Vince Neil, but to Hot Tub Time Machine. Which I didn't even like all that much. But I can tell you that if I was going to off myself, I'd totally do it while listening to Motley Crue.

Soooooo....... I've got a new bloggy lay out here. Normally I'd go to my handy friend over at Mommy From the Midwest, but she seems to be on hiatus. Left to my own devices, I've gone with whatever template looked least likely and clicked OK.

This leads me to The Next Big Thing. A book. *gasp* So if I had the nerve to self publish (because my ADD doesn't allow me to focus long enough to go the traditional route, and I really really like instant gratification) would you people buy it? I'm seriously considering doing it on only electronic format, because there Are. No. Bookstores.

Potato Tacos

Although they may sound Irish-Mexican (I dated an Irish-Mexican once, dude was not right in the head) potato tacos seem to be a purely American creation. By American, I mean that my Mexican mother in law made them here in Chicago.

For years, I could not figure out what was so magical about those little tacos. And allow me to digress for a moment, so you can laugh at my lack of Spanish speaking skills. Every time we visited my mother in law's house, she would ask, "Quieres un taco?" and me, being me, didn't really dig tacos enough to eat them quite that often. It was a long time before my husband notified me that "un taco" doesn't necessarily mean A TACO, literally. It's a snack, and bite to eat. He asked, "What, did you think my mother had a store house of tacos somewhere?" Hey, I don't presume to know what your mother does with her food! Maybe she reeeeally likes tacos! *Okay, back to the story of the amazing potato tacos.* Then, on the eve of my darling (and I mean that with zero sarcasm) mother in law's return to Mexico, she showed me how to make them, along with her patented rice.

Last night I made potato tacos and Maria's rice for dinner. Both Daimean and Jesus were in carb loaded heaven. Daimean doesn't really remember much about his abuela, but he sure remembers her food. And for Jesus, who misses his mom, it's a little thing that makes him really happy. Poor Isaiah looked at the whole thing and asked if he could have spaghetti instead.

A Word On Luck

Jeeez, neglect the blog for a few days and all hell breaks loose. We adopted a kitten.

His name is Ozzie, and in, Prince of Darkness. The title for his blog was supposed to be, "Send me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breed fleas." You know how I love those insanely long blog titles. Ozzie is about 4 weeks old now, and is still bottle fed, and is firmly entrenched in this family.

Now, on to today's blog topic.

My mother is sad that today would have been her and my father's 35th wedding anniversary. Never mind that he's been gone 16 years, and they were divorced for 10 before that. Anyway ...

She asked if I'm sad about it, or if I dread the date coming on the calendar. I said no, that I'm always cognizant of the date, but I don't dread it. Tomorrow, Jesus will listen as I talk about my dad, and tell him some of the same things I've probably told him a hundred times before. When I'm done, I'll tell him I miss my dad, he'll say he knows, and he'll hug me. And that will be exactly what I need.

My mother said, "You're lucky to have Jesus"

I smile and say, "I know" :)