because I really can't get enough of myself

It's true.  We're in completely different states right now.  He started his new job today and everything.  And thus begins my 6 weeks stint as a single parent. So far, so good though.  Kind of. I mean, I've been doing the parenting alone for like 12 1/2 hours, so I'm practically an expert at it now.  And seeing as I'm all knowledgeable and stuff, I'll share with you what I've learned: 1- I actually find it a lot less frustrating than having Husband around.  Like when I was making dinner tonight and I knew, being the only parent home, that if I didn't mix Opie's Mirilax into some chocolate milk that it just wasn't going to get done; versus when Husband is home and I'm making dinner and say, "Hey, can you help me and mix some Mirilax into some chocolate milk?"  And he says, "Sure." But really thinks I mean, "Hey can you help me and mix some Mirilax into some chocolate milk sometime within the next century ?"

Monkey took the tube of Spongebob kid toothpaste and has hidden it. We can't find it anywhere. And it's not like HE remembers. (Not surprising.  At all.) But wherever that toothpaste is........it's probably squished out and smeared all over. YAY. I sure hope we find it before we move... Husband leaves for Utah in 3 1/2 days.  meh. The only good part about him going down weeks and weeks AND WEEKS before us is that he can find the rental house of perfection .  Or at least he better. I know the title of "the rental house of perfection" seems like I would have a lot of rules about it.  But really I don't.  Just that it needs to be big enough, with a yard, by a good school,  and not near drug dealers, polar bears or any kind of low-security prison. Well, that, and one more MAJOR rule that cannot be ignored: The rental house of perfection cannot be old.  (And by old, I just mean, old, ok?) Because old houses ARE ALWAYS HAUNTED. always .

I have to make an announcement. But it's not one that I'm thrilled to make. For the past week I've been ignoring it so that, like the proverbial dog, it will just GO AWAY. Honestly, the odds of it just going away are slim to fat-chance, so I should just announce it already. I'm moving. To Utah. Every time I think about it, I also think I'm going to throw up. I know there's a lot of people who like living in Utah, so I don't want to offend anyone, but I HATE UTAH. Direly. And when I moved away a decade ago I vowed never ever ever ev-er to move back.  EVER.  ( Motherboard told me last week to never make that vow because then God HAS to force you to move back - - too bad her warning is about 10 1/2 years too late.) So now, I'm sure you're asking yourself, "If you hate it so bad, why are you moving?"  Which is an excellent question. Husband got a new job.  With real live actual benefits (jobs without benefits are, shall we

Dear People Who Live on my Street But Don't Know I Exist Let Alone Read my Blog (but whatever), Please stop putting your garbage cans on the sidewalk.  Because a) it makes it really obnoxious to walk to the bus stop with a stroller (even though I drove today since it was kind of rainy, but that's totally beside the point so why did you even bring it up?) and b) because when all the garbage cans are on the sidewalk the poor garbage collector has to stop his truck, get out, move the can onto the street and then get back into his truck & use the mechanical arm to pick it up. With as annoying as reason A is, I can only imagine the garbage collector's annoyance at having to get out of his truck at every house because people are too lazy to pull their cans another foot and off the curb. SO KNOCK IT OFF. Sincerely, That One Neighbor you Don't Know ************************************ Dear Opie, If you scream even one more time , my head will most likely e

Just thought I'd let you know, I had this Barbie when I was younger: At least I remember that dress.  It was so practical - I mean, sequins go with just about anything.  And the ruffles on one side?  Super hip-reducing. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but my sisters didn't like playing Barbies with me because I "played wrong".  Yeah.  Just because their heads kept accidentally breaking off while I played didn't mean I was doing it "wrong".  Right? And for further FYI, I also had safari Ken - you know, like the one in Toy Story 3.  The first time he comes out and he's in those dorky shorts and blue leopard print shirt?  Yeah, that one. We're currently Ken-less (Barbies, we have, but no Kens) but back then he had molded plastic underwear under his shorts.  I gotta tell you, it confused the crap out of me.  Not that I'm saying he should have molded plastic genitalia- no, definitely not that.  But I had no brothers or

I am writing this post on my new iPad. When I send emails on here the signature says "sent from my shiny new ipad2 of awesomeness". But in reality, it's sort of not living up to the tremendously amazing hype I built it up to be in my head. You see, I used to be technology deprived. But then came my iPad and my iPhone and I was riding a wave of app induced euphoria for about 2 1/2 weeks. But now I'm starting to notice the little things about all this technology that are really starting to bug me. Like, the ipad2 has a camera on the front and the back, which I guess was one of their cool new features. But all I can think about is how some perv out there could be hacking into things to WATCH ME while I play Angry Birds. How's a girl to know if her innocent little iPad camera isn't documenting her every facial twitch? And HEAVEN FORBID the thought of picking my nose - it's just not safe. However, I have come up with a solution to this fear. And now I

My house has been pretty quiet in the mornings what with Number Four gone. It's a little weird. But also SUPER INCREDIBLY AWESOME. Yesterday, after dropping everyone off, I got home and thought, "Jeepers, I can do whatever I want!  So what do I want to do the VERY MOSTEST out of everything I could possibly do?"  It didn't take very long to figure out what my very mostest wanted to do thing was. I went back to bed. For another TWO HOURS. It was so great. This morning though, I had to get some work done.  So I spent most of the morning upstairs at the computer.  And our heat kicked on, and I was thinking, "We have the loudest heater EVER."  Because I hadn't realized before how loud the sound of rushing air could be when there is absolutely no other sounds in the house. So I was sitting there, working, listening to hot air going through our vents and then I started hearing SOMETHING ELSE . It was like a little thump or clunk. Naturally

I'm freaking out just a little bit.  There are NO KIDS in my house right now.  As in, they're gone, not just outside or something.  GONE. Number Four turns 3 in about 6 weeks, so we're following all the rules to transition her from therapy into the preschool.  (The state drops therapy at age 3, and private therapy when you're insurance is stupid - OH BOY, expensive.)  But before the school district will even touch them, your child has to prove how far very far behind the "typical" rate of development they are in the form of lots of tests, assessments, and lastly in-classroom observation. Mostly, we've loved the early intervention preschool.  We've tried to get all of our kids in it because of their developmental lag.  Two Bits was too clever to get in.  She knew shapes and numbers and stuff, so even though the people performing the assessment couldn't understand a single word she said, due to her horrific articulation, she wasn't deemed &qu