I'm so glad I sobered up

Oh, my gosh! In my momentary parental guilt, I almost forgot to tell you a side dish of gossip.

Rich recently finished a job for a marketing group and we attended the open house last night. He had been telling me about all of the folks who worked there, including one woman who was over the top with inapporpriate sex talk all the time. As we were aproaching the building, he's pointing out all of the people he's been working with, "...and that's the guy who did the fliers, that's the owner, the one in black is one of the designers."

I asked which one the flirt was, and he said he didn't see her, but that I would know her when I saw her.

I already felt bad for her, because there's no reason I shouldn't have been like her . Grace of God, amen. Also, there was the chance that she wasn't even that bad -- Rich is somewhat of a harsh judge.

For twenty minutes or so, we mingled, made people laugh, talked about work, kids, and did research on which hors devoirs to skip and where to find more of those nutty covered grape things.

It was when I looked over to the sudden commotion at the bar, that Rich was completely validated, "is that her with the name tag on her ass, all bent over and shakin that thing?"

"That's her."

Normally, my heart would go out to a sister making a fool of herself, but that was just priceless.

The conditions are right for a blown top -- a yelling watch will be in effect until 8:35 am, at which time school will begin, ringing the "all clear"

I'll tell you, every time I've yelled at my kids, it's been under the following conditions: pressed for time, kids complaining and nit picking, disrespect toward me over one of a dozen --previously beaten to death-- situations (like combing long hair), all while I'm saying "no" to things while my actions are saying yes.

I'm a person who needs a little time to think before she acts. You would think there's not much to think about in regard to getting the kids ready for school, but let me tell you -- no matter how simple a routine you have in place, kids will work to complicate it, it's like they need to change the whole world before they leave for school. And they seem to have worked out a system where they tag teem to overwhelm me with questions and simple tasks.

I know it's coming, I'm prepared for most of it, but sooner or later I find myself going back on previous words and doing crap for my kids that they should have done for themselves last night when I told them to, and I realize I should just let them suffer the consequences of going without or doing it themselves, but I've already combed the hair and heard all about how much I suck at it, and I've moved on to looking for the shoes, "and if they are not in this box, you have to wear a different pair -- we don't have time for this, you should have set them out last night," and I'm not done preaching by the time I'm digging through the fourth box when I begin to realize I'm in the middle of that wishy washy crap, the kind of which renders my words useless. The pages of every book on parenting that I've ever read start to read themselves aloud to me in order to let me know that I'm fucking it up.

If no one said another word for 30 seconds, we'd all be okay -- but under the rapid fire of crud and the facts that -- I'm no fool, I'm no pushover, and to let everybody know just how in control I am, I will yell for the next 60 seconds without breathing in once.

"Oh, thank you baby -- it's wonderful!"

Some of you remember Petunia -- she never fully recovered from a bed making mishap and we lost her.

Here we go again -- meet, Zinnia.

Zinnia is from -- very excited to present this plant that I have been secretly and lovingly nurturing for days on end -- Lizzie. Zinnia is all of two sprigs, one of which was bent and broken by the time I got her -- Lizzie is worried.

There's no cause for worry --my thumb is soooooo green, ah, the greenest thumb you saw -- I walk and plants flourish in the wake of my green thumbedness.

4 stitches

Rich and I were less than a mile from home, on our way with dinner (yummy burgers from Fuddrucker's) when Rich's cell rang.

Frankie: "Winnie fell off the swing set and cut her tongue."

No Fudd's for us.

Rich looked first as I tended to Lizzie, who was inconsolable over her sister's pain and worried over the possibility of catching another glimpse of the tongue.

Mouth injuries heal fast and sometimes there is a question of weather or not to seek treatment and usually Rich is overly dramatic about things. Well, after he saw it he wasn't sure if she needed to go to the ER or not, so he called there for advice -- so I was thinking it was probably not too bad given the fact that he was so calm (when his fight or flight gets triggered it's a freak show).

Let me tell you, when I got a look so I could weigh in -- there was a solid line and not a dotted line like when teeth go through just a bit. I gingerly touched to see if it was deep and the second it moved I was like, okay, what's the debate?

I told her, "The good news is, you are going to get a toy out of this one, and you are going to have a really cool story to tell your friends tomorrow."

...or maybe the next day. When that Novocain wore off it wasn't pretty, but only until the advil kicked in. She is my hero -- holy crap did she take it like a champ. They didn't even have to use the clampy thing, she just held out her tongue and held my hand -- she cried, but it was that friggin brave and silent cry -- she was amazing.

Four stitch's and there was debate about one more, but it was laying together clean enough that they left that part stitch less.

I was proud of my entire family -- Frankie didn't show any panic at all and totally handled tending to her wound until we got home. Rich didn't try to "calm everyone down" in that way that's not calming at all -- he was all dad and just what she needed. And Lizzie for not throwing up or passing out and for bringing on the sister love when it counted.

Casa de Million

Rich and the guys built a playhouse with an upper deck about three years ago and it's finally play ready. The top was ready last year, but the inside took a little time for this busy family to get to.

At first I painted the entire inside blue and added clouds because I wanted it to feel like they were playing in the clouds. Well, painter has her limits and this girl is not good at clouds (I really thought I would be). It looked terrible and I lost my inspiration to finish, so there the expensively cobbled room sat, waiting for the painter to paint and the cleaner (me again) to clean. And then it happened -- thank God for cable and all those decorating shows -- when I saw that chalk wall with cool frames hung on it in that N.Y. artist's apartment, several spare ideas came together at once and I had a clear vision of what I was going to do in that clubhouse.

My mother had mentioned the apple green picture frames she had gotten for a steal and did I want them -- I did, but said no because I had no purpose for them. Between them and the chalk idea, the rest filled in. The only parts not true to the original vision
are the size of the harlequins and the stripe around the middle. I wanted large diamonds, but became frustrated when I marked them out wrong, so I bought a stencil instead so I could finish the project some time this century. Then I stenciled wrong and it didn't meet up correctly, thus the golden stripe around the room -- which I really like, so goody for the mistake.

So that's where I have been, painting and gardening and I'm not done yet -- I think I am going to paint my house too.