In a few hours I am going the airport. At the airport, waiting, will be one dad who hasn't seen his kids in almost 7 months.

I get cranky with him sometimes, and then I think back to my dad. My dad saw us every two years. He rarely called and never seemed to miss us too much during the interlude. He didn't take time off from work while we were with him; his wife watched us a bit and then rest of the time, my brother and I looked after the two little ones. And with that, I am counting myself lucky here. My kids' dad misses them. He aches for them a bit. He is excited-bordering-giddy to see them.

I think he is a good deal more excited to see me than I him, but that I can handle. It's going to be an interesting 6 days.

You're not going to hear much from me until Monday night, but rest assured, everyone's fine and no one's getting knocked up.

Before I go, I want to tell you something. Some great thing. Last night a miracle occurred here at Chez Mr. Lady. Praise Jesus*! Last night, I went to sleep on a gosh darn real life BED. B. E. D. Bed. Not an air mattress, not somebodies couch, a bed. The last piece of the puzzle is in place. Me? Too ligit to quit, or something like that.

Oh! I almost forgot! My little tiny baby did a very big girl thing yesterday. She sat up all tall and pretty and still (fortunately) and got herself her very first haircut.

Note the leery, stoner little face. She wasn't quite sure about it at first...

And for a minute there I thought she was going to get mighty pissy about the whole ordeal...

But she ended up doing much better than I ever expected and seemed to dig it a bit, actually...

And now she is rocking a sweet toddler mullet and looks ridiculously cute and her face is free of hair, leaving room for boogies and ketchup and bubble gum. Just like there should be....

It's a good thing, too, 'cause I could have f$@#ing killed her over this shit...

Anyone know how to get the buttons back on an Acer laptop?

Well, kids, have a great weekend. I'll be back, soon. Your Mr. Lady loves you!

*He didn't actually have anything to do with the bed, per say, but go ahead and praise him anyway. Just in case.

my friends are totally smarter than I am

Not that you all haven't read this already, because, well, you're all smart and pretty and know she rocks, but in case you haven't read it yet, go read this. Um, like, right now.

You will never, ever read a more powerful anything on the internet about, well, anything. Molly, I have never been more honored to be your friend.

next, it's with the grey hair and the smelly umbrella

Things I am made of:
  • Sugar
  • Spice
  • Everything nice
Things I do not happen to be made of:
  • Anti-perspirant
  • Pseudophedrine
  • Money
I have dropped a good $100 or so in the past 6 months on socks. Now, not even I am such a scrooge as to pretend like $100 is a TON of money, but in relation to what it's being spent on? Jeez. That's a ton of socks. And how many pairs do my lovely darlings have to show for it? Um, like 3 each.

And so, today as I did my weekly 12 loads of laundry, I did the single most cheap ass old-lady thing I have even done in my whole life. I safety-pinned each pair of socks together before I put them in the wash. And here's why.

To hear my kids tell it, they remove each pair of socks with tender-loving care and gently lay each one deep enough into the hamper as to ensure that nary a stray sock falls out and gets separated from its mate. This leaves me with only one conclusion:

The laundry room sock monsters are eating very, very well here at Chez Mr. Lady.

I an hardly believe I have sunk to these depths. I'm going to have to take up happy hour and bridge next. Ugh.

the chicken, or the egg, or the mucus

My son picks his nose. Almost constantly. It's sort of a problem. His picture from his first day of school? Finger up his nose. His video from his spring concert? Digging for gold, he was.

My other son bites his nails. CRAZY bites his nails. I have no idea where he gets it from.

B has beautiful hands, his father's hands. And he gnaws at them all day long. I almost never see him doing it, though, unlike T, who couldn't care less if you catch him digging around in his nose. Today we had a little talk about it.

I asked B if he even thought about quitting nail-biting. He gave me that look. I explained that he has gorgeous hands and that as he gets older, people will take him more seriously in life if he has well-manicured nails. (It's true, people notice that stuff.) T was steadily picking away in the back seat the whole time.

We struck a deal. Each hand is worth 25 cents a day. If he goes one day without biting, he gets 50 cents. One week gets him $3.50, one month, $14. $14 is almost a Gameboy game. He shook on it and then said, "What about you, mom?"

Shit. I have now gone 5 1/2 hours without biting my nails. $14 is almost a pedicure.

T and I struck the same deal today. He actually made it all night without one single pick. I bet he caves first. That boy loves him some boogies.

As we were driving home, we wondered which would grow faster, B's nails or T's boogies. Which do you think?

and then some

12 reasons why 32 rocks:
  1. I was singing along to a song in the car this morning, and T was singing with me. In fucking perfect harmony. Damn I love that kid.
  2. Germanium. AKA GE. AKA # 32 on the Periodic Table of Elements.
  3. 16 more years til they're all gone to college.
  4. I learned today that I am most certainly, indeed, one of the family.
  5. It's freaking 70 degrees today. That hasn't happened since my 22nd birthday.
  6. Playstation.
  7. 32 flavors, baby. I wonder if they serve a cone with all of them stacked on top. I'd totally order that.
  8. My 32nd birthday fell on 0320. Cool!
  9. Impromptu birthdays parties are the best birthday parties.
  10. My husband FORGOT my birthday. Now I really don't have to even entertain the thought of marriage counseling.
  11. And I have something nasty to hang over his head for the rest of his life.
  12. I got an egg to stand on end at, like, noon, and it's still standing there now, 10 hours later.
On that note...

For Chris, who up until this point has thought me totally full of shit... can be done. I told you so. Suck on that, bitch.