Klingon

I have a stalker.  My 5 year old, Harry.  Apparently, this change in our family dynamic has cause the little man to be more than a bit clingy to me.  At this precise moment, I am typing this has Harry screams "Moooommmmmmyyyyyy" over and over again.  It sounds remarkably like someone is killing him. 
Except he is completely safe.  And I have done multiple hugs and kisses and glasses of water and one more hug and a kiss and answered just one question (which is often actually a declarative sentence about how much he hates going to bed).
I know change is rough on a little guy. I get it.  I do.  But I may need a preschooler restraining order if the kid doesn't stop following me into the bathroom.

Giving Thanks

Yeah, I know I am a couple days late, but I spent the bulk of my weekend puking and sleeping, so give a girl a break.
I am thankful for so very much this year.  I am grateful for a return to good health after my adventure in the ICU in March.  I am beyond thankful to be off the blood thinners that did an excellent job of dissolving the blood clots in my lungs, but made things like brushing my teeth and shaving my legs look like a horror film. 
I'm thankful for healthy happy kids.  I am thankful for my Jake, who is turning into such a young man but still was over the moon excited to go see Toy Story 3 with us.  I am thankful for my Abby, who makes me laugh every day, even though she is personally responsible for most of the gray hairs I am covering up.  I am thankful for my Aidan who still cuddles with me.  I am thankful for my Harry, who greets me every afternoon by telling me how much he "misseded" me.
I am thankful for my husband, who braved Black Friday crowds to get me popsicles and ginger ale to cure my upset stomach.
I am thankful for my big, nosy, Sout-side extended family for raising me in more than a little chaos and doing the same for my kids.
I am thankful for dear friends, both near and far, whether we met in High School, work or on the internet. 
I hope you are as blessed this holiday season.

Who ACTS like that????

So last night, we went to the annual Disney Magic Lights Parade downtown.  Mickey and friends parade down a rather magnificent stretch of a mile and turn on the holiday lights as they move along.  It's a big deal and we've been taking our kids to this since Abby was 2 months old in a Snugli.  She's 13 now.
Well, unfortunately, the weather was nice yesterday.  So the crowd was huge.  And this truly HORRIBLE woman in a gray beret with a black bow on the front just won the award for bitchiest woman on the planet.  The police had left their road closed signs laying flat on the ground, taking up a ton of space and Abby had a bit of a hissy about having to stand near a trash can instead of right by us.  Eventually the police came and took all but one of the signs, so my husband lifted the sign and propped it up against the bus shelter, making a lot more room.  Abby was trying to get into a better spot, while making sure her two younger brothers were in front so they could see the action.  Obnoxious hat lady had the absolute NERVE to tell my child that she was behaving poorly and was "making me uncomfortable".  I think more than that was said, because Abby was off to the side, by the trash can she so objected to and away from her friend.  I went to talk to her and my baby burst into tears.  Full on tears.
And the issue the woman was soooo uncomfortable about?  Her uncollapsed, $700 EMPTY stroller.  So, wretched woman, I hope you and your overpriced stroller have a very merry Christmas together.  Though I don't think Santa stops for adults who make kids cry at a Mickey Mouse Christmas parade...

November 18

Today is my dad's birthday.  He'd be 62 this year.  For those of you who never met my dad, all I can say is boy did you miss out.
My dad was a goof.  The king of the goofs.  The emperor of the goofs, really.  He was the kind of dad who rode my pink Huffy Sweet Thunder bike through our neighborhood because we couldn't fit kids AND the bike in the station wagon to get it to my grandparent's house and I wasn't allowed to cross the busy streets yet.  He was the kind of dad who played hide and seek in the house, but always hid in the furnace closet.  He told spooky stories starring a Big Black Toe that still give me the heebie jeebies.
But better still, he was the kind of grandpa who thought the sun rises and sets in his grandchildren.  As far as Poppa was concerned, my kids could do no wrong.  None.  And vice versa.  Oh the adventures they had, roaming our neighborhood, with the kids riding in my blue grocery cart because he couldn't figure out how to collapse my stroller.
Mind you, my dad was not without faults.  He was a Viet Nam vet, with PTSD and in otherwise poor health.  He had a short temper, and many times growing up, you weren't sure just which Dad you were getting.  But today is his birthday, and the awesome always outweighs the difficult. 
So, if you have a moment, raise a boneless rib sandwich in a toast to my dad...

Someone's got the gimmes!

And it's not the kids in this house.  It's me. 
Given the new work situation in the house, we are, once again, looking at another Christmas where the adults don't exchange gifts.  Which, rationally, is OK.  It really is more for the kids than us.  But it still sucks.
We made the decision that I am keeping a hair appointment I considered canceling.  A new salon in my town is offering 50% of their services if you book by the 26th, and then you lock in your rate for the next 6 months.  Making the fancy place about the same price as our local Hair Cuttery. 
I am hoping this haircut puts me in a better frame of mind.  Mike already had someone call about his resume, so hopefully a new job is on the immediate horizon.  And if all else fails, I will have great hair...

Yay! More Crisis!

So, my husband lost his job today.  Apparently, in some companies, it's OK to pick a fight and the one who GETS bullied gets fired because he asked for an explanation rather than walking away.  Especially when the bully is the boss's brother.  And the boss herself is a bully.
See, my husband had the absolute nerve to ask for a raise a couple of weeks ago.  A raise he deserved.  A raise his bosses knew he deserved.  A raise that was two years late.  He was turned down.  Again.  For absolutely no reason what so ever.  Instead, they fired him.  And gave a completely false reason for his termination.
Of course we are upset.  We thought we were going to have some breathing room for Christmas this year.  But mostly I am so incredibly disappointed.
See, his boss is my old boss.  The one who fired me.  I used to really like, respect and admire her.  Instead, I learned the hard way that she is just an unethical, unreasonable bully.  I hope she reads this, and I hope it hurts.  Bad.

Growing Pains

My third child, Aidan, has always been my baby.  He's always been very content to be little.  Getting big has never been much of an enticement for him.  Aidan is the kind of kid who loves to cuddle up; he just kind of melts into you.
Until now.  Aidan is starting to feel his oats apparently.  He is suddenly balking at us treating him "like a child".  Which is especially funny because sometimes he has a bit of a speech impediment that makes "l" sound like "w".  He wants to roam the neighborhood like our two teenagers.  He wants sleepovers with his friends.
Which is another problem.  Aidan asked if he can have a sleep over.  I said sure and who did he want to invite.  Jordan.  I nearly said OK, until my daughter told me Jordan was a girl.  Yeah, no.  Go Fish.  So he said Aaron.  Except it's an Erin.  Another girl.  Sorry, dude, this mom is not cool with the co-ed sleepover.  Even at 8.

I'm back-- Again.

So this time, we had a reliable computer, but less reliable monitor.  Hopefully we are set for awhile.  In my absence, we moved, to a more comfortable neighborhood.  Our old neighborhood was lovely, but not quite a good fit for my boisterous family of six.  We are now in an equally lovely neighborhood, but more family centered.  And I am right across the street from a hospital.  Which to me means, not easy access to an emergency room when needed.  That would be logical and make sense.  I'm excited by being across the street from a hospital cafeteria.  Hospital cafeterias always have kick ass grilled cheese sandwiches.  And I LOVE grilled cheese sandwiches.
We also decided to medicate Aidan for his ADHD.  We fought the good fight against added chemicals to our healthy boy's body.  We resisted medicating  him to make other adults happy for three long years.  Ultimately, we decided that Aidan wasn't happy.  Aidan knew he is smart, but couldn't figure out why school was so hard for him.  We found a terrific doctor who respects our reluctance to medicate a healthy child and meets us half way.  He takes the smallest dose of Concerta and only on school days.  He is having the best school year of his entire school career. 
Nothing else terrifically noteworthy for now...