“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.

(more…)

After all this talk of bugs, I do not want to make you itch, scratch or curse like a sailor. So for this week’s Thursday Thirteen I present:

13 Things That Make You Feel Good

13. When you get your back scratched without even having to ask.

12. R&B — Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell, Stevie Wonder, The Temptations… “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day/When it’s cold outside I’ve got the month of May…”

11. Soft pillows, cozy quilts and clean sheets.

10. Cherry blossoms on all the trees.

9. A new job. With new co-workers. And a new mug for your desk.

8. Chocolate brownies with vanilla ice cream.

7. Two flats of cosmos and pansies to plant, a big bag of hollyhock tubers, sweet peas, asters and calendula.

6. A birthday party and it’s not you who’s the one turning… I cannot say. But all of you, please tell my Wacky Sister HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! forty times. Heh heh. (Wait, what am I laughing about? I’m three years older. But not until June! Until then, I am two years older.)

5. When you wake up in the morning and the dishes are already done, the laundry is done, and the coffee is made. (This has never happened to me — I mean, not all three at once — but I bet it feels good.)

4. “Getting your hair cut and taking a bath,” says Wacky Boy.

3. Speaking of — lavender bubble baths and candles. Peppermint foot lotion. A big bouquet of flowers.

2. Not having to go to school.

1. Knowing that summer is on the way — lazy, warm nights, going swimming all the time, picnics in the bed of our truck. In the driveway. (Don’t ask — our kids adore this.) Drive-in movies, all of the windows and doors open, the garden in full bloom. Fresh peaches, plums and nectarines. Going to the beach for the day or the week.

Happy Thursday, everybody.

Here’s a Q&A with Wacky Mommy, by Wacky Mommy:

Q: Only dirty sluts get lice. You are such a dirty slut.
A: Please phrase your question in the form of a question.

Q: Are you a dirty slut?
A: No. But the three parents from the other second-grade class, the ones who refused to play room parent and call the other parents, so I could make 25 calls instead of 100? They are dirty sluts. Also assholes for not helping.

(more…)

I’ve changed my schedule. Again. Because why stick with a routine, a regular, boring routine, when you can make a new routine that is even more insane and complex than the old one? This new sked involves 1) job-hunting 2) volunteering in my daughter’s class on Mondays 3) going to the acupuncturist as much as I can (health stuff I am not wanting to write about — too personal. And boring. You know.) and 4) watching the entire first and second seasons of “The Office” (I’ve missed a few, here and there) 5) volunteering in my son’s class on Thursdays 6) women’s group on Wednesday a.m.’s (we discuss much and eat much and drink coffee, while the kids shriek from the other room) and 7) going to church every Sunday, not just Easter. Also, I am dealing with repercussions from not “doing” my old sked. I am talking about my girlfriend who I go for coffee with frequently.

Only now it’s less frequently because I Am Insane with New Sked. Her: “You are going for coffee with someone else? Not me? Are you going to our place? You are such a slut.” Me: “Sorry. Next week?”

So Wacky Boy, Who Is Five, was playing at the sand table yesterday, with one of his many best friends forever, and his BFF tells him, “You’re my best friend!” Wacky Boy, in turn, says, “You are my best friend!” (me: heehee. I love five-year-olds!)

Then his BFF turns to me and, grinning, says, “I’m so glad you brought him here. I’ve been looking for this kid for a long, long time.”

A long, looooooong time. And I’m thinking — the c-section, the three months of colic, his love of hitting things with a stick, his refusal to this day to eat much besides cheese pizza and mac ‘n’ cheese — it’s all been worth it. Because his friend was looking for him for a long, long time. I’m glad I could help.

My Easter greeting to you all:

“Daddy, what does regret mean?/
Well son, the funny thing about regret is/
it’s better to regret something you have done/
than to regret something you haven’t done/
And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend/
Be sure and tell her/
SATAN, SATAN, SATAN!!!”
— Butthole Surfers

Go say hi to Mallory, she’s cracking me up.