Oh, that’s right. It’s almost Thursday here.

Without further ado, Wacky House presents…

Why My Mom Is So Great
By Wacky Girl

13. She’s funny.

12. She’s nice.

11. She’s cool.

10. She likes to play with me. (But she writes too much. “Like now!” Wacky Boy, yelling from across the room.)

9. She bakes excellent cookies. My favorites are chocolate chip and Mexican Wedding Cakes.

8. She takes me to places, like Finnegan’s!

7. We like to garden and play in the yard.

6. In the summer, we have “dive-in movies.” (We set up the laptop on the patio table and the kids swim in the wading pool. Free and easy. WM)

5. She reads Nancy Drew with me.

4. She likes some of the things I do, like watching TV and playing games and reading books.

3. We play Girls Club.

2. We both love chocolate.

1. Sometimes on Easter, we eat chocolate bunnies and racecars, broken up into a bowl of popcorn, while we watch Eloise movies.

(This was her idea, I swear! And how sweet is this kid? Sweeter than a chocolate bunny, that’s for sure. WM)

from Zip:

“The real trouble with reality is that there’s no background music.”
— anon.

(Unless you’re me, then there’s always a Beastie Boys song playing somewhere in the background.)

Homeschooling, Day 8:

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Reviewed today:

Dear Principal of Lousy School:
Yes, I know that y’all miss my kids. Thanks for the call yesterday. They are well-behaved children and don’t cause a ruckus. But you gave us lice. We might come back next week, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. In the future, please send home a letter when you are lousy. Or at least call. Or at least check heads. Anything less is… irresponsible. Which is not a skill we want to learn at school or at home.

Here’s to being a grown-up,
WM

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“love is not concerned
with whom you pray
or where you slept
the night you ran away
from home
love is concerned
that the beauty of your heart
should kill no one.”

“Love is not concerned”
Alice Walker

My husband — you may know him as Hockey God — did a nice photo essay on his blog. You should go check it out. And yes, I did say that about the Catholic church. Because I’m sick of all my snobby friends saying, “Well, at Cathedral/Holy Cross/Madeleine School/Holy Redeemer… etc. We don’t have those kind of problems.” (Lice, sex abuse, child abuse, meth monkeys, teachers who abuse kids…) Liars! You do so. You just cover it up better. Only, not always.

And from Whoorl and Snackie’s World (“Where Everybody is Bitchy and Nobody is Getting Licked!”), today’s meme:

1. Hey baby, what’s your sign? More importantly, do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
Cancer, on the cusp of Gemini, with Sagittarius rising. Really, I think this explains it all. Yeah, and I was born in Year of the Dragon. Wacky Girl is Virgo and Perfect, Wacky Boy is Aries and Insane, Hockey God is double Sag with Scorpio Rising or something and Trouble. Of course I believe in astrology.

2. If you were offered a million dollars to never wear lip gloss again, would you take it?
Yes, because “chapstick” is not “lip gloss.” Ditto “lipstick” is not “lip gloss.”

3. Which blogger would you like to trade lives with for just one day and why?
Nothing But Bonfires, because geez, who wouldn’t want to be Holly?

4. Do you want to have more children or have you not thought that far ahead yet?
Ha, ha, ha! You’re funny! Yeah, they’re cute until they bring home lice. Then they’re not that damn cute anymore. No, we’re done. No more kids, no more dogs, no more lice.

5. And finally, the most important question of the day: mayonnaise or Miracle Whip?
Mayo. But only on our hair.

PS — Whoorl was much more imaginative about this than I was. I’m just in a hurry. Laundry and all. Week Two of the Louse: More Cetaphil on hair; bed pillows, quilts, blankets on hot cycle in dryer for half an hour; sheets, towels and coats through laundry; entire house vacuumed again; and me, oh my! I even found time to plant cosmos, pansies and hollyhocks with the kids. (My husband is doing the vacuuming. With our new fancy purple Dyson vacuum cleaner. The man is a saint.)

“What I am is tired of jam.”

— Frances, in Bread and Jam for Frances

Our hair has never looked better. No bugs or eggs spotted recently.

On another bright and shiny note — I slept until 7, then woke up for a second and slept until 9:38, then woke up for a fleeting moment and slept until 10:15.

Ah, who’s the dirty slut?

The kids? What kids? Their dad fed one of them breakfast while the other one slept in, too. (That would be my girl, who is Mini-Me in so many ways. Poor thing. She acted exactly like me last night when she had a one-hour freak-out because she. Could. NOT! find her favorite pajama bottoms. They are size 12. They are huge on her. But they are silky and have blue butterflies so HAND THEM OVER! I would, if I could remember where I stashed them.)

After she woke up, at who knows what time because I was sound asleep, she and her brother played quietly while I slept.

My husband went off to work, taking my van with him. Called out something about filling the tank for me. The grocery delivery guy will be here soon. They refuse tips.

Who says dreams can’t come true?

MamaToo just posted the best Pasta Alfredo recipe. Go grab it and print it out.

Dang, talk about a pick-me-up. Wacky Boy, The One Who is Now Five, has been recognizing a few words here and there for awhile now. Just now he brought a worksheet to me, one of a set from school that he’s been diligently working on since we’ve been quarantined. This one had the names of the colors outlined, and you color in the blank once you figure out the word.

“Can you read this color, Mom?”

“Sure, pink. And the next one’s white. Do you need me to read the others?”

“No. That one’s red, and the next one’s yellow… Is it yellow, or orange?” he smiles.

“It’s orange.”

“And the next one is orange, then brown and then black.”

“You’re reading!”

“I read it.” He smiles even bigger.

His sister, yelling from the next room, “You read that all by yourself!”

I am so glad I was here for this.

May you never have an infestation of lice in your house. That is what I’m wishing for you. May your children never attend a school where, when lice breaks out (and they break out everywhere — rich schools, poor school, private and not. They are geniuses at surviving. That is why lice will live and thrive long, long, long after I am gone) — if and when lice does break out — may the nurses, staff and parents at your school CHECK HEADS, SEND LETTERS HOME, MAKE PHONE CALLS.

And may they not roll their eyes at you and treat you like you’re some unreasonable crazy bitch.

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