Snow days are a lot more fun when you're in grade school. When you're a parent they become just another day you ask yourself repeatedly, "Who was the idiot that gave my children crack today?"
That last statement, "Who was the idiot that gave my children crack today?" and other such comments about my children being on crack, are the kinds of statements that freak my mother out because she says one of these days someone is going to really think I give my children crack. I don't. It's too expensive and I have to save my money to buy fruit snacks and hot chocolate for after school and popcorn at the basketball games.
I painted my fingernails this week and the polish is starting to chip. I've been in a flit all morning to get those nails repainted because Tater is taking me to see Rick Springfield at The Big Fancy Casino tonight and obviously, somewhere in my delusional mind, I think Rick Springfield is going to notice if my fingernail polish is chipped.
I wish I was Jesse's girl so Rick Springfield would want me.
The people that market the show LOST to the masses are freakin' marketing geniuses. They hype, hype, hype it up, even give individual characters their own video commercials to show their oh-so-interesting personalities and make us fall in love/hate with them and they promote the WORLD WIDE EVENT and spread the whole shebang out over two nights and tell us the premiere is going to be TWO WHOLE HOURS OF LOST-Y GOODNESS and then, THEN they fill up that first hour with another one of those "getting to know the island" shows. Yet we all watched it anyway, like we didn't get to know the island enough the night before during the pop-up video episode the night before. Geniuses, I'm telling you.
Today is my regular day off and I was going to go pee
We don't even have a lock on the bathroom door. If I want to keep the kids out I have to open a drawer so the door won't open and hope that they're not suddenly overcome with Hulk strength and break the drawer. But....it works AND I can still get an internet connection in there. Uh yeah, of course I've tried.
Right now in my house the Wii, the laptop, the desktop and my bedroom TV are on. We're all rotating every 45 minutes. Well, not me - I don't share the laptop. But Ab's on the desktop, KD's on the Wii and Sam's watching TV. In 30 minutes everyone will rotate. Sure, it's rotting their brains, but they're quiet and not bugging me.
I really do like my kids. Please know that. However, I'm kind of out of practice with that whole staying at home with them thing.
Kady is playing a Disney Princess game on Wii that quite frankly may give me nightmares tonight. These gigantic paintbrushes are chasing her. They are rather evil and sinister looking paintbrushes, too. I always thought paintbrushes looked like they could go bad at any time. Now I'm sure.
Heather B. Armstrong of Dooce is in the process of publishing not one, but TWO books. Not only do I wish I was Jesse's girl, I wish I was Heather B. Armstrong. Why can't Simon and Shuster come knockin' at MY door?
I *heart* my Schwan's Man. He is just about one of the cutest things on earth and his name is Cotton. How can you not like someone named Cotton? One day I was on the phone with Tater while Cotton was here and I said, "Seriously, Tater, I've gotta go. Cotton's here and I need to buy some ice cream!" She said, "Hey, tell Cotton he's the fabric of my life, okay?" When I hung up I said, "Cotton, you're the fabric of Tater's life." He grinned and said, "Everyone loves the feel of Cotton." See? How can you not like someone with comebacks like that?
A few years ago Tater and I became totally addicted to Sims on PS2. We would literally stay up all night long trying to evolve our Sims into upstanding citizens who loved hot tub parties, dancing in the living room with total strangers who walked into their houses and had super-cool jobs like Toll Booth Collector and Super Star. But now I am pathetically addicted to the kid version, My Sims on Wii. Abby got a blowtorch this morning and I am SO jealous! I am also SO pathetic.
I love chicken fries.