party on

Okay, I have officially lost my mind.

So we’re having a birthday party for Josh this weekend. AT MY HOUSE. His birthday happens to fall on Saturday this year so naturally that seemed appropriate for a full out party. I am so dumb.

Last year Damon was out of town on Josh’s birthday and we did very little for it. Josh was so mad at us! It seemed (even to me) like every kid in his class last year had a huge party and he was the only one who didn’t. He was so upset he actually told all of his friends he was having one and they were all invited. Uh, no. And oy. Yes, I made him go back to school and tell them the truth.

We started planning this one shortly after that little incident. This party is a year in the making. So it should be well planned yes? Heh.

So yeah. Anyway, we invited every kid in his class. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

We also invited a few of his close friends from his class last year, as well as a few close friends that have kids around the same age and live nearby.

And almost everyone has said yes.

Not that I wanted anyone to say no!! I really like everyone we’ve invited, but still…

Put it this way; I’ve made 28 goodie bags so far. Twenty-eight. And I’m afraid we’re going to run out.

help!!

A couple of things are going in my favor.

  1. I thought in advance to ask one of my friends with older kids if they can help monster kid-wrangle, and at least one if not all three are going to actually do it. And yes, Nicole, I am paying them whether you like it or not. pffft.
  2. Most of the parents are planning to stay. I’ve bribed them with adult friendly food. (Pulled pork!)
  3. Josh doesn’t want any typical party games. It’s a Lego party, and we’re going to just play Legos!
  4. The weather is supposed to be gorgeous. Partly cloudy and 71 degrees. 71 degrees! In March! In NEW HAMPSHIRE! We can throw the kids play outside!!

Even so, I’m still a little scared. And clearly, insane. And I hope I didn’t just jinx myself and it’s going pour buckets on Saturday instead.

Dear Josh, you’d better enjoy your party, because I’m never doing this again. Love, Mom.

Sigh. Maybe.

At least getting ready for the party has kept me too frantic to have time to think about the fact that my baby is turning 7. ::weeping::

the fun and the funny, BlogHer style

I’m going to stick my head in the sand for a bit and ignore some of the strange/bad/crazy a$$ stuff that went down at BlogHer. Especially since everyone else is talking about it – I certainly don’t need to. No, instead, let’s talk about me. Me, and the fact that people(!) you can’t take me anywhere! I truly am the epitome of disaster walking.

Before I even got there I dumped most of my in-flight ginger ale on the poor dude sitting next to me on the plane. Ice and all. I got plenty on myself too. After I said sorry a million times all I could think to say was “at least it’s nice and cool – it doesn’t seem so hot in here now.” Yes, I did say that, and he looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Well, it was hot in there! Oy.

It’s good I had two more hours left to dry off before deplaning. If I hadn’t I would have been walking around O’Hare looking like I’d had an accident. If you know what I mean.

The rest of the day weekend I spent stalking seeing bloggers friends I knew and squealing like a, well, like a girl. Squealing doesn’t quite cover it though. I don’t think Stimey has yet recovered my hug attack. I did get a bit of a reputation for my hugs though, didn’t I Pocklock? 😉 Heh.

Friday just got better. Especially lunch, when I got a piece of dear-god-the-driest-chicken-I’ve-ever-eaten-in-my-life stuck halfway down my throat. Do you know what you shouldn’t do when you have a piece of chicken stuck in your throat? Drink water. Don’t drink the water! Because you will spew it all over the table, your lunch, and quite possibly probably most assuredly down the front of your cute new green shirt.

Since I could actually breath, just not swallow, I waved off all the waiters lining up to give me the Heimlich and ran off to the bathroom to stick my finger down my throat to get the freaking piece of chicken out! (Thank for watching my stuff while I was gone Kelby!) Can you imagine if I’d had the Heimlich 3 weeks after abdominal surgery? Just imagine! I’d be known as the girl who choked on a piece of chicken and then bled to death at BlogHer! I’d be famous infamous. And dead.

Moving on to parties. I went to every party I possibly could. And then spent my time explaining/apologizing for not being able to dance/bowl/eat/drink because of the gallbladder thing. I can’t believe I talked about the stupid gallbladder so much. Yikes. Am boring.

Anyway. The parties. They rocked. I wore princess crowns, and bright pink boas, and ate from chocolate fountains (that I was afraid I would fall into – for real afraid – because you know – past history and all) and didn’t eat a cheeseburger, because of the stupid gallbladder, but I was there. I was there for everything I could stay awake for.

I’m really really glad my friends took pictures since I only snapped like 4 the whole time I was there. This was one of them:

This is Leighannthe best roommate ever – she didn’t mind my junk everywhere or my going to bed late or my tagging along with her to lots of stuff! Or when I spilled yet another drink at BowlHer. Luckily not on her. Love you babe!

I can’t possibly link to everyone I met, and hugged, and loved, loved, loved. I had more fun than I ever imagined I would/could/should have. And I really did go to sessions. Pinky swear.

If you aren’t going to BlogHer, well, I’m sorry for this

It seems like everyone is writing a pre-BlogHer post this week. I’m of two minds about writing one of my own. As much as I am giddy with excitement, I know my non-bloggy friends really don’t understand the concept of going to a conference for blogging. Of all things. Blogging? Wha??

Beyond that, I remember what it felt like last year, (heck, and the year before too) when I stayed home while every blogger I read and wanted to meet was headed for San Francisco. Can you say burning flames of jealousy? I don’t want to make anyone reading here feel that way. Just know my friends, that I wish ALL of you were able to go to Chicago so I could meet each and every one of you.

In any case, most of the BlogHer posts I’ve read have basically been about angst. As in; don’t have any and you will be fine. Good advice, I can live with that. For some reason I’m not at all nervous about flying to Chicago on my own and meeting some 1,000 or so other bloggers. (Mostly) Women bloggers. Geeky (mostly) women bloggers. There’s no reason to have angst about meeting other geeks/dorks/nerds, right? Right. I mean I know I’m one anyway.

Anyway, here is my list of what I will be doing at BlogHer:

And now here’s the list of what I will not be doing at BlogHer:

There. That’s it. I did it. That’s my first real pre-BlogHer post. I hope it was good enough. (Oops, that was my angst showing.) Kidding!!

Seriously, though, you all know I’m KIDDING. I really don’t have angst. I’m just a little snarky.

The continuing saga of Batman in Vegas

(See part one of the saga here.)

So Josh and I are surviving Damon’s absence but it sure hasn’t helped that the weather is really cruddy this week.

The only things entertaining us are Josh’s extremely loose tooth, and the random photos of mini-Batman that Damon’s been taking all over Las Vegas the conference hotel. Note to hubby – more actual VEGAS please. Ahem. I’m trying to live vicariously here.

So apparently Batman really can fly:

Oh wait, he’s just stuck the window with gum. Nevermind.

Batman prefers Macs. So do I, I just can’t afford one!

Are all photographers generally messy or just the ones I know? Not that I’m judging mind you, after all, they are my kind of people.

I think Batman is a bit anti-social, turning his back on our friends and all.

Hey Russ, long time no see!

Batman is tired and needs a nap. Ooooo, let’s ride the escalators first!

Good night Batman, I’m sure we’ll see more of you soon. Especially since I have nothing better to blog about.

PS. to Damon, Happy Birthday babe. Love you, miss you, and hate that you’re gone on your birthday. We might have to have cake in your honor. Heh.

black out

I’m a fainter.

When I’m in pain my brain shuts off and my vagus nerve takes over. And I pass out. Vasovagal syncope. Out cold.

<Disclaimer: If you’re either squeamish or male you might want to skip this post. Trust me.>

The earliest time I remember it happening was in the dentist’s office when I was first in braces. My mouth was already pretty sore and when the dentist started telling my mother some last minute thing to do with my teeth he didn’t just point toward my gums, he poked them. I’m sure he didn’t mean to, he was the nicest dentist I ever had, but yeah, dang that hurt! And down I went. Right in front of the receptionist’s desk. Scared the crap out of everyone! My poor mother!

My family and friends got kind of used to it but it was always shocking, not to mention, frankly, pretty freaking funny, whenever it happened.

Like the time I was at my neighbor’s house and we were all playing in the woods. I slipped on a rock and landed on my tailbone. Ouch! I leaned against a tree for support but it didn’t help. I woke up lying on my back in a small stream of water mud with my friends standing over me. I certainly wasn’t more than nine or ten and they were younger than me! I can’t imagine what they thought happened but they sure were laughing their butts off!

Truly the funniest one was when I had my ears pierced. My mom and my 2 older sisters with me. Like a rite of passage or something. Typical mall kiosk, typical ice cream shop for lunch afterward. What wasn’t typical was the conversation – which was my oldest sister Lisa telling us about piercing her own ears with an ice cube and a needle. Eww!

I woke up under the table.

It’s okay to laugh. We still do.

I think can hear Carolyn laughing right now.

I even passed out at school in 7th grade. But no one knew. I didn’t feel good ~ahem~ because of the “cramps” <don’t say I didn’t warn you guys> and I was sitting in the principal’s office waiting for my mom to come pick me up. The principal and his secretary had both stepped out for a few seconds. Just long enough for me to find myself waking up on the floor, face down, right in front of the open door. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and sat back in my chair. Right before they walked back in. Gee, I don’t know why he told me I looked pale!

The most embarrassing, (yes, there was one more embarrassing then sliding off my seat under the table at a very busy restaurant) was when I was about 16 or 17 and working at a summer job at at pizza place/variety store. I told my manager I didn’t feel well, (those pesky cramps again) and instead of sending me home she sent me to the basement to shred humongous blocks of mozzarella cheese. You know, so I wouldn’t be around customers. Duh.

Do you know incredibly bad massive quantities of shredded cheese smells? Especially when you don’t feel well to begin with? Ugh. So gross. But I finished my task and went back upstairs to tell her I was worse. She was flirting with the bread man and ignoring me so I leaned against the soda cooler. And BAM. On the freaking floor. Only they couldn’t get a hold of my mother. (These were the days before cell phones, of course!)

So guess what they did? They called a freaking ambulance. And then kept sitting me in a chair instead of letting me just lie down! Dumba$$es. So I kept fainting, over and over! After they called the ambulance they then called my poor father at work to meet me at the hospital, FOR CRAMPS!! The horror. Oh, the horror.

Can I just say one thing here? Does anyone else see a pattern? Really, am I the only one who uses the word cramps as a euphemism for BEING STABBED WITH AN ICE PICK STRAIGHT INTO MY UTERUS???? Because seriously if “cramps” just means like just a little discomfort or some $hit to you all then I really hate everyone right now.

Ahem.

Sorry.

Can you tell I have cramps?

And that I had vasovagal syncope recently? As in Monday. Because of a dang pap!!! And the ensuing effing CRAMPS!!!!!!

I really did warn you.

I’m probably going to really regret hitting publish.

ps. I can give blood with no problems whatsoever. Go figure.

life’s little irritations #11

I haven’t written one of these in awhile but it’s time I did. Because I am quite irritated. By my workout pants.

Since it’s been getting warmer I’ve been wearing a jacket on my walks less and less, and without a jacket – guess what? I have no pockets! Why, why, why, oh why, do exercise clothes not have any pockets?!

I have keys and a cell phone that I bring on my walks everyday. I have to lock my house, and sorry but I’m not going 2 miles away on foot without my cell. It’s just a girl-walking-alone safety issue. I can’t be the only one who has to carry something when I workout. It was the same thing when I used to go to the gym. I don’t want to carry a purse, or have to use a locker. I just want to carry my dang phone and keys!

So I stick my keyring in the waistband of my pants and hope they don’t fall out, and I carry my cell in my hands. I just know I’m going to trip and drop it down a drain one of these days!

I want workout pants with just one cute little pocket. Preferably with zipper or some other way to keep things from falling out. And I don’t want them to cost a fortune. Humph.

a little air

Did you know if you have a laptop that you’re supposed to clean out the air intake grills?

Well, I do now! Duh.

I wondered why my computer was running super hot. So I googled possible reasons. Air intake? What’s that?

Oh, those things on the front that I thought were speakers? Huh.

I thought I was killing yet another motherboard just by using it so much. Yes, I murder laptops on a regular basis – this is my third one in about 5 years.

Do you think maybe it’s because I never cleaned the air intake grills and they fried? ~headslap~

resorting to bullets, again

Huh. I’m supposed to post something, anything, aren’t I?

Well then random bullets it is!

I have a very strange stream of consciousness. I do know that about myself. I think you all already knew that too. See ya tomorrow!

my fear, in focus

There aren’t many things in this world I’m actually afraid of. Spiders don’t bother me, small spaces are cozy, storms are exciting, the dark just puts me to sleep, and flying is fun. Public speaking is, well, okay, I don’t really like public speaking. I don’t fear mice, or dogs, or insects, frogs, elevators, heights, being alone or being in a crowd. You get the idea. The things that scare many people don’t scare me. Except one thing.

Black snake in Virginia, LOC

Image credit: Library of Congress

When I was a little kid I would lay in bed with my arms tucked in as tight as could be. I was afraid that if my hand hung over the bed that snakes would get me. Seriously. I was convinced there were snakes living under the bed, in the toilet, the the trees, in the basement, in the garage, under the shed, etc. I lived in Maine people. There are barely any snakes in Maine, and certainly no poisonous ones.

Even as a grown-up I still hate snakes. I don’t have nightmares anymore but there is no way on earth I would ever willingly touch one, or even be in a room with one. When we lived in Virgina there was a nasty big black snake that lived under our front steps. I found out when I found a freshly shed skin on the walk one morning. I freaked. The neighbor said that there was one under every porch on the block and to leave it alone – it was good because it ate mice. I said that’s why I have a cat. I desperately wanted to move. And we did just a few months later. Heh, if you ask my husband we moved for a job, if you ask me, we moved to get away from the snake.

Anyway. All this just to say, guess what I’m working on right now? Yeah. A book about snakes. You know what my job is by now right? I’m a photo editor. I get the photos for the book. Yeah. Lots and lots of pictures of snakes. Images of snakes hissing, and slithering, and birthing, showing fangs, and hatching, and eating, and squeezing and…oh my god. Images that are now burned into my brain. Let me tell you something right now, me looking for pictures of ‘pythons constricting large animals’ right before bed, is not a good idea.

PS. I need a slap on the hand for not keep you all up to date on the goings on at ChapterBytes. We have two new chapters up, Chapter 17 written by Karen, and Chapter 18 by B. This story is really moving along and I’m so impressed with the writers! Would you like to write a chapter but you’re being shy about it? Send me an email, let’s talk! catnip35 at gmail dot com.

it must be monday

Good god it’s 8:30 am and I’m already done with this day.

Let’s recap the timeline of events for you shall we?

12:30 am – Awakened by DH’s snoring. He has massive allergies and although it’s been really good lately, last night was as bad as it gets. Give up and move to the guest room. Of course I can’t go back to sleep until I go pee.

2:30 am – Awakened by the boy, crying because he peed in his bed. This is an extremely rare occurrence for him. Generally only happening a couple times a year and only when he’s extremely tired. I can’t bear to change the sheets and the mattress cover since to do so requires pulling off all 200 stuffed animals on the bed. Decide to do it tomorrow and let him come to the guest room with me. After I go pee, again.

3:30am – Finally go back to sleep.

5:30am – Awakened by the sound of cat puking on the floor near me. As soon as I move he runs and pukes more in the hall. Deja vu? No, I’m in just hell. And have to pee again.

6:00am – Hear DH get up for the day.

6:30am – Cute little boy next to me wakes up and snuggles in close. Highlight of the day.

6:45am – Cute little boy decides to go see daddy. Luckily I know Daddy will feed him breakfast.

7:10am – DH wakes me up. Gotta get the boy ready for school. (After I pee!)

8:00am – Walk down to the bus stop. It’s scheduled to arrive at 8:08 but is usually there at 8:05.

8:16am – Bus has still not come yet. Did I somehow miss it? Give up and walk back up the damn hill to the house. Resign myself to driving him in. Late.

8:20am – See bus pass by the intersection as I pull up to it.

8:22am – Can’t catch up in time for the next stop.

8:23am – Frantically beep horn as I pull up at the next bus stop. I hit panic button on keychain and can’t turn it off. Wake up neighborhood! Thank god bus driver waits. Bus was late due to mechanical difficulties. She is very sorry. I adore her. Boy gets on bus.

8:26am – Finally get coffee. Think about cleaning up cat puke and pee sheets. Blog instead. Do I have time for a nap before I have to pick him up at 11am? I’d better not, the way this day is going, I might not wake up in time. Crap.

I hope the rest of you are having a better day than I am. If you’re not, feel free to vent!

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