When it's bad...

It's AWFUL.
Today was one of those rare days when I wondered if I could join the foreign legion. It was also one of those days that made me realize why some animals eat their young.
Adrian was up too late last night and too early this morning, Fiona is cutting teeth and on a nap embargo. They were alternately trying to get under the other's skin and whining and crying at me.
There was a moment when I considered calling my childless friends and telling them "don't do it! don't fall for it! once they're here there's no turning back! run! run while you still can!"

And today was the first day that Adrian called me a "mean mommy". I expected it would come up eventually. What I did not expect was that it would happen in defense of his sister. So that was a pleasant surprise...or maybe just nice wrapping around a pile of crap. Hard to tell, really.

Whaaaaat else? (Welcome to the non sequitur part of this evening's program)
The dodge dealership down the street is offering a buy one, get one for $1 deal.
My brother comes to visit Monday--woot!
I like dogs. Specifically the Italian Spinoni. We may get one...maybe we can trade the kids for a dog.
Fiona's new favorite word: No! (She's not even 18 months yet and she's got enough attitude for a whole room of eighth grade girls) I can only hope her new enthusiasm for this word is because she doesn't feel good and not because she's really turning into a disagreeable toad. Everything is a lost cause when matched with her other favorite word: Mine!

And I'm tired, so now I'm going to bury myself beneath many blankets and hope against hope tomorrow is better.

Aha!

So, Aaron is home from his 5 days of training in Ft. Smith Arkansas and the children are on him like cockleburrs. Which allows me to sit quietly in the corner and re-read a book that used to be a favorite of mine. The reason I had brought this book up from it's basement abode is that I got a call from a girlfriend looking for the name of a particular image and I knew it was in there somewhere, and wasn't quite sure where I have stashed my art history books tho it's probably in there too.
That was a long winded way of telling you that in the book there is a theory that women (specifically. sorry, boys) are more attuned to the natural cycles* and thus more attuned to a cosmic sense of time as opposed to a linear sense of time--as we are now familiar with it. Which leads me to this conclusion:

I am never late, I am merely moving according to cosmic time.

*This attunement, the author declares, is due to the fact that the menstrual cycle is 28 days and the lunar cycle is 28 days, and the period of gestation for a fetus is actually 10 lunar months (280 days or 40 weeks). Making women more in tune with the moon than with, say, the timetables at the train station. (I do realize that nobody is in tune with train station timetables except perhaps the rats and roaches that have lived their brief lives beneath the rumbling rails)

I really do need to get out more.

The busy and the rediculous

Adrian is happy when he's up to his elbows in crafts. So far this week, we've written a letter to Santa and made Thanksgiving wreaths. We've also been assembling paper turkeys to take to our Thanksgiving hostess. And Fiona...scroll down for her latest and greatest.

Taadah! She can put on Adrian's shoes (this is her smile for the camera) and...we have the return of Buckethead. Buckethead 2.1 if you will. Fiona is opposed to actual hats, but she's down with wearing not-hat things on her head and declaring it "hat!". This led to a giant hissy fit from Adrian, who all of a sudden is mr. precise: if it's not a hat you can't call it one. Oh! Four is Fussy! Three is Terrible! and Two is Trying! I can only hope that Five will be Fabulous--or that I don't run out of Merlot. Cheers!

BANG!

Hey all! I have recovered (mostly) from the bone-rattling cough of 2008--and compared to the strep throat of '07 it was nothing. Upon recovery, I discovered that Fiona's hair had grown over her eyes in the manner of that sheepdog from those Bugs Bunny cartoons. I didn't want to cut all her hair because the back does this really awesome curly thing, so I determined the solution to be: bangs! Now she looks like a toddler and not so much like a warner brothers cartoon character.

Also it should be duly noted that she is a daddy's girl if ever there was one. Last night for dinner we had roast chicken and she and Aaron stood over it and picked the carcass clean. She was pretty thrilled with the lack of eating utensils and the general caveman aspect of eating meat directly off the bones. Witness:

How do?

hello, and don't mind the phlegm!

Adrian and I seem to have acquired the cold that will not die. I've got the chest-congested horrible hacking cough, and he's got the river of snot flowing from his nose. We could have gone as Pestilence for Halloween, but I don't think the neighbors would've appreciated it much.

Fion and Aaron are untouched by the germy germs. It seems unfair really, that the two people who care least about their health should be unscathed. Fiona eats things off the ground, for crying out loud! Things like dirt!

Halloween was good. In the spirit of things, Fiona would respond to the trick or treaters chorus with "ZoeyandElmo!" Adrian got to trick or treat AND hand out candy AND sit by the firepit. He capped the night off by sitting the wrong way in his chair and falling over into a pile of sticks. Sticks that were NOT on fire, to clarify.
Speaking of fire--hey wow. There was a giant fire in Tinley last night. It was about 3 blocks from us, on the other side of the train station--5 engines were sent to put it out and there were 2 explosions. And I can't find any information about it on any of the local newspaper websites. What's the deal with that? I surely can't be considered the source of breaking news here.
And now I am going to go to bed. Maybe I can sleep this cough away...
Pass the nyquil, wouldja?