I honestly don't know anymore why I don't want her to know about it. When I started blogging, no one that knew me knew about it, save a handful of people. About a year and a half into it, my husband found it. Right after I left him, conveniently enough. Good times, good times. Once it was outed to him, I started letting it slip to others. My best friend sent me an email one day saying that she was starting one of those self-indulgent, woe-is-me blogs and to not judge her too harshly, to which I replied that I already had one of those myself and maybe our blogs should meet. Then a mutual friend started one, and so I fessed up to her as well. My old next door neighbor and PTA bestie found me on NaBloOhYouKnow totally by accident. And then one night I got extremely trashed and sent my brother the link. I will never understand why I told my ex-boyfriend about it, but I did and he still talks to me, so I guess it's okay. Maybe. I gave the link to my best work-friend when I moved to Canada and swore him to secrecy. And I even told one and only one of my in-laws about it, which is kind of fun because now when I get busted, I'll have an accomplice. Truthfully, I guess I've told three in-laws since both of my sisters-in-law know about it, but none of them really count as in-laws because I like them.
My point is that it's coming out, this blog. But I still don't want my family to read it, I still won't tell any of my neighbors about it and dear god in heaven, I will die the day my mother in law finds it. Because I like my privacy, which is completely fucking ridiculous since I'm talking about a public website that any old joe-blow could read at any given point in space or time.
I never claimed to make any sense.
So she's here for a week on her way to Alaska for the summer and I can't exactly sit around commenting on blogs logged in as Mr Lady and I can't exactly have her reading over my shoulder when I open the heymrlady email account and I can't explain that the girl I talk to on the phone 15 hours straight a day is a blog friend and so I just can't be on the computer while she's here. Which is a whole lot like saying that Paula Abdul can't take pain medications for a week straight, and so I just have to get myself and the computer as far apart as I can. Or get really sick. Or exert myself more in one hour than I have in the past decade. Or send my husband to have surgery on his balls. Or do all of those things at the exact same time.
Which is what any totally reasonable person would do, of course.
The Donor had his snip on Friday and his mother got here on Saturday, and they had some wholly disconcerting lovely mother/son bonding time.
They get bigger if you click'em, and the rest are on FlickR.
Which all sounds almost but not quite naughty.
At 1 am on Saturday night/Sunday morning, my throat swelled shut. AGAIN. After a week on penicillin for strep. Which was awesome because A) it was 1 in the morning, B) my mother in law was here, and C) we were running in the Vancouver marathon in 8 ever-nearing hours. Which we totally did anyway.
And directly after that, we rented a mini-van and drove it up a mountain to Whistler for an overnight stay on a school night, because we're great parents. At one point, when 2of3 asked us to turn up the radio because Kiss was on, The Donor turned to me and whispered, "You gotta admit; it's kind of awesome that the kid knows who Kiss is" and a few minutes later 1of3 told 2of3 that the next day was (our last name) Family Ditch Day from school and 2of3 asked, "What does ditch mean?" and I leaned over to The Donor and said, "Yeah, but that's more awesome."
We drove for 2 hours and I passed out in the front seat for all of it because ohmygod I was so sick I could die, and I missed a whole lot of this.
We checked into the hotel and then checked out the town. Which is like Vail's little brother and is going to rock the fucking kasbah in 2010. We got directly to doin' it like they do on the Travel Channel.
And then I sent my 68 year old mother in law and my mutilated husband and the children I am no longer capable of replacing off to strap harnesses around their special bits and slide on wires over ravines which loom in the fathoms below.
We got home late on Monday night and woke up early on Tuesday morning for an all day track meet. In the goddamnmotherfucking Pacific Northwest rain. Because I'm totally not sick enough.
And tonight, the night I have to write the American Idol recap, the night I HAVE to be on the computer, Ms. I'm An Antique and Have To Be In Bed By Eight decided that she wasn't tired at all and would just read. On the couch. Directly behind the computer.
We were off to such a good start, too. Now's it's 3:25 in the am and I just want to bring that bitch DOWN.