All I really need to know I am apparently still learning in Kindergarten

I originally posted this in September but I'm reposting it now because 1. it didn't get much love back then and I haven't linked it to one of Jen's Blog Gems yet and 2. I'm too tired to think of anything new to write, I have a meeting in an hour and I absolutely have to post something every day because I schedule them to post around 3 in the morning and every day I wake up to about 10 comments waiting for me and that makes my day and I guess I'm addicted to your morning validation and can't go a day without posting something. Or, something....

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I spent the day in Child 2's class today. The whole day. By about 2:00 I was reminded of that scene in Kindergarten Cop where Arnold comes back to the hotel room, falls down on the bed and says "They're horrible. They're like little terrorists!" I swear, I don't know how you teachers do it every single fucking day of the week. Anyway, here are some things that I have learned as a result of my experience today:

1. I have the perfect kind of sense of humor for a group of 5 year olds. All I had to do was make a weird noise and flail my arms wildly and I was IN.

2. There is no other place in the world where you need to watch your language more than a Kindergarten room. So, when it's rug time, and only the teacher is talking, softly, and you're cleaning up after breakfast, and you spill a carton of milk and yell "SHIT!" without thinking? Yeah, try not to do that. Seriously.

3. 5 year olds talk a LOT. And most of what they say makes no sense, but as long as you pretend you understand, you're good. So when one says to you "HEY YOU KNOW WHAT MY HERP DERP HERP DERP HERPY DERPY MOM SAID THAT I WAS GOING TO HERP DERP HERPITY DERPTIY HERP DERP AND THEN I SAID I WANTED THE GREEN ONE HERP DERP HERPSTERS DERPSTERS HERP DERP?????" and you just nod and smile.... no problem.

4.  If they tell you jokes, every single one will contain the word "fart." Girls, boys, doesn't matter. And they will be the funniest jokes EVER. And no matter what, you must laugh. And if you don't, they will tell you to until you do.

5. Milk cartons are hard.

6. I'm not always sure if my parenting/supervision style is appropriate. I mean, I was pretty sure when they started throwing the chalk at each other that I needed to make it stop, but were they supposed to be drawing on the trees with the chalk? It will wash off, right? Would another, more responsible adult, have put a stop to that? And when they were drawing on their faces with it, and then on my face (and my arms, and my shirt, and my feet, and my legs), was that okay? It seemed okay to me, I mean, they were just expressing themselves creatively, right? But sometimes I just don't know. I wish there was a manual for these things, at least then I would know that I was being an irresponsible adult instead of just wondering if I was. I always expect some other, more responsible person is going to come out of a doorway and yell at me, and them, about our inappropriate activities, but nobody ever does. I think that's probably because I'm the only adult in the area and not because what I'm doing is okay. Oh, well, they lived through it.

7. An hour long assembly when the whole school is crammed into the auditorium is too damn long for a 5 year old to sit through.

Okay, that's all I can remember now. The one (real) thing I did take away from today was that my child does not benefit from my presence in the room. He refused to do anything unless I was sitting next to him; things that he's perfectly capable of doing, like cutting and gluing. Today was the first day I have ever spent in the classroom of either of my kids; I already knew that Child 1 doesn't do well when I'm around, and I wasn't yet sure about Child 2, but now I know. So, even though his teacher was very happy to have me there, I don't want to spend the whole time, every time, just sitting next to my kid and enabling him when he can do these things independently. It only helps him and it doesn't seem fair to the rest of the kids, so, I will likely not do this again. Too bad, though, because I have the perfect sense of humor for a group of 5 year olds and it's pretty awesome when you can make an entire group of people laugh just by making a weird noise and flailing your arms wildly.

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Fun with Google analytics

Sooner or later every blogger in the world will write a post about the fun stuff they find while looking through their site stats, in particular the various search terms that people have entered in search engines to lead them to their blog. It's like a blogging rite of passage or something.

And do you know why?

Because it's hilarious.

You look through these search terms and there's a delightful variety of awesome, and you think "wow, that search brought them here?" and "holy fuck, somebody searched for that? People are sick. (Sick and awesome). And it brought them here???"

It's fun. Although, by far the number one search term that brings people to this blog is some variation of "yeah good times jillsmo." Not very original, people. I'm thinking it's time to buy the domain name and save you the extra step.

And so, without further adieu, I present to you my Top 13 Favorite Keyword Search Term Results!

13. out of the mouths of drunks (okay, this one actually makes sense)

12. how to butcher a goat yourself (I'm sure the pictorial provided valuable help)

11. BART trains (kind of proud of this one)

10. drunk elmo (Awwww, I miss drunk elmo)

9. Big Daddy Autism (this one actually kind of offends me. WTF??)

8. hours fuckong (I have no idea but I love it)

7. what a fecking day, and it just seems to get worse (I know the feeling!!)

6. my brain is ruined (OMG MINE, TOO!!)

5. kittens poop rainbows (WIN)

4. can you feed rat poison to raccoons? (I say yes)

3. guy about to kill somebody sleeping (that got them to this picture. Lucky!!)

2.  it makin me yeah (it totally makin me, too)

And my number one favorite keyword search term that somebody used to find my blog......

1. things i can fuck in my house

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Boycott American women!

I'm sure a lot of you have heard of this guy. I don't know his name, but he has this blog dedicated to promoting the boycotting of American women, and talks about all the ways women from other cultures are superior to American women and how much American women are horrible people. It's pretty vile, misogynistic stuff; I won't link to it, of course (and I'm sad that he doesn't allow commenting on his blog, because I have no way of fucking with him other than here. *sad*).

He apparently spends a lot of his time visiting women-authored blogs (American women only, I assume) and posting his "mission statement" in the comments of our posts. He's been here a bunch of times and has never once made it past the spam filter on my commenting system; which isn't even turned on. Either I have the greatest spam filter in the world or this guy is so notorious that commenting systems come pre-programmed to expect him. Either way, it's kind of funny that he's such a spammer he can't even get past an inactive spam filter. Nice.

This should probably bother me, being an American woman and all, but honestly it really doesn't. Mostly I just feel sorry for him. He was surely pretty fucked over by an American woman at some point in his life and now he spends all his time trying to promote his message; it's really quite sad. How unhappy this man must be that this is what he does with his life? I feel bad for him. (You know what would probably help him? A nice, long blow job from an American woman. OH! .... too bad....) Hopefully he can find himself a subservient non American women who can make him happy and he can stop feeling so bad about himself all the time.

Anyway, he dropped by here yesterday, and right before I hit "delete" I had this thought: Spending all of your time talking about boycotting American women, and then seeking us out to tell us about how much you hate us isn't the act of boycotting. In fact, what you're doing is called pursuing. That's actually the opposite of boycotting.

I'm just sayin'

EDIT: Since he commented here I was able to track his path. He's following me on Twitter! LOL. Worst. Boycotter. Ever.

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I drove over a duck today

THAT dude. Right there.

Okay. Before I get into the nuts and bolts of the alleged Anatidacide, let me first set the scene for you, because my state of mind is crucial to your understanding of this saga.

So, yeah; what a fun morning I had! Child 2 is so fucking cranky that all he'll say when you talk to him is "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA." Hubs and I just started fucking with him after a while; what else could we do? We're only human! Snarky, sarcastic, evil, horrible humans. I even had my laptop open and was waiting for some good quotes but he was too cranky to be funny. I swear, that kid can really be a fucking asshole sometimes. One of these days I'm just going to snap and call him a fucking asshole. I really hope he doesn't hear me when that happens.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."

Good times.

I drop the kids off at school, and it's raining, which means we assemble in the cafeteria/auditorium and not on the yard and it makes for general chaos. Child 1 didn't want me to wait with him, he just wanted to stand there in the chaos and stare at the clock. I made sure there was at least another kid in his class standing with him but he shuttled me away and I was worried that he wouldn't find his way. I'm sure he was fine. I worry too much. I know this. Anyway.... I drive off to work with these events in my head.

I have 3 different clients who have offices in or around the same area of Oakland, but not exactly in the same place. I always start out in the same direction but I have to make different turns at different places. Well, this morning I guess I wasn't paying attention. I'm thinking about the kids and I'm thinking about the blog and I'm thinking about my client and I make a wrong turn and I started going towards the wrong client's office. As soon as I figured it out, I made my first right turn so that I could circle back in the other direction. The road I chose, though, went right through this big lake that's in the middle of Oakland; and where there are lakes.... there are ducks.... apparently.

I now find myself driving through this curvy road, going totally in the wrong direction, trying to figure out where I even am and how the hell I'm going to get back to where I'm supposed to be; now I'm worried because I'm going to be late, and I suddenly find my path is constantly being blocked by ducks.

Awww, look at the cute ducks! I'll just slow down and wait for them to cross.

Christ there sure are a lot of ducks around here.

Seriously with the ducks everywhere?

Get the fuck out of my way you asshole ducks, I'm going to be late!!!

OH MY GOD I HAD NO IDEA DUCKS WERE SO ANNOYING.

I keep having to stop and wait for the little line of ducks to walk by, because even though I kind of want to just plow through them, that would be wrong and sociopathic and I'm not really that late at this point, so I slow down and wait. A number of times.

Finally it seems the last line of ducks has gone by and I swerve around the last of them and fucking floor it because I'm impatient. And it was right then that I see him. One lone little brown duck, about half the size of the others, directly in front of my car. And then.... directly underneath my car.

OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK I JUST KILLED A FUCKING DUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK

I didn't want to stop right on top of him, so I kept going, knowing he was right underneath my car and probably my tire. There's a little "clank clink" feel to my car as I go over (OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK) and then I get to what I assume is the other side and I stop, panicking. My hand is over my mouth in shock and I look in my rearview mirror for duck splatter..... and what do I see?

Yeah, I see that little fucking duck shaking himself off and then running back toward the water, totally unscathed. I just went right over the little shit! Good thing he's so little and my car is so big.

I think I speak for all ducks, everywhere, when I say:

My artistic talent cannot be denied

I bet you didn't see that ending coming, did you?

images courtesy of James Barker & EA / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Things I Find In My House VI

Child 1 goes through these phases where he draws something again and again and again. He goes through reams of paper and buckets of markers. People who work in offices with me are used to giving me all of their one-sided white paper (it HAS to be white paper) so that I can take it home for him. It is not unusual for me to find a pile of 20-30 pieces of paper in a pile on my desk, all with the same thing drawn on it, and all having been produced in about a 30 minute period.

Right now he draws BART tracks. The dudes you see above were a phase he went through a few years ago. I have no idea what they are or why they're so adorable; I haven't seen them in a long time, though. I just found this in the back of a drawer as I was doing laundry. What's funny about this is that it was drawn on the back of the "2008-2009 PTA Budget."

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A quick note about today's quick note about yesterday's post

In all seriousness, you guys are the fucking BEST. I saw you clicking yesterday, and I see you clicking today, and really, putting aside for a moment all my gawdy whorishness about this stupid voting thing that means nothing and isn't important, thank you for humoring me. And thank you for reading. And thank you for commenting. And thank you for laughing, even if it's at me and not with me; I'm cool with that, too.

I'd like to give you guys a non kitten rainbow related present for being so awesome. Actually two presents.

First, here is my favorite cartoon in all the world that my friend Robin gave me years ago and that sits right above the top of my monitor, pinned to the bulletin board behind my desk and that I look at every time I'm trying to think of something witty to write about:

And second, have you guys heard The Head and the Heart? Good fucking stuff. Here's Ghosts. You're welcome.

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I am very disappointed

I'd like to call your attention to the number underneath the juggling chick's boobs over there

<---------------- that way

Do you see that number?

That's the number 4.

That is not the number 2. Or even the number 3.

No. That's a 4.

And do you know why that's a 4 and not the 2 that it once was?

Do you?

Huh?

Do you ???

It's because you people don't click enough.

There. I said it. I'm sorry it had to come to this but it's time I was finally honest with you.

This is your fault.

See, I'm watching you, in my site stats; and I see you ... those of you who come here every day, expecting the free funny. Yeah, that's right, you just suck up all the funny and you give me nothing in return.  

Not one single click.  

And I know who you are, you know.

Oh, yes, I know who each of you are (uh... for the most part) and I SEE YOU when you read and don't click.

And.... I'm remembering. I'm like a fucking elephant with the remembering. I will remember these acts that you have perpetrated against me. You with your "I want the free funny!" and "I don't want to have to click on anything while I'm here!!" and "WAAAAAHHHH MY FINGER IS TOO TIRED"  YOU SOUND LIKE MY 5 YEAR OLD! 

Even if you don't actually say these things... you sound like my 5 year old ... in my head.

I'm going to give you people the weekend to make it up to me by clicking here. Until then, I will be in my bedroom ... under the covers ... pouting. My lower lip will actually be sticking out the entire time. AND POSSIBLY QUIVERING. At some point I may emerge so that I can go to the bathroom and quietly cry to myself, but then I'll go straight back to bed and pout some more.

So, think about that, people. Think about me, this weekend, doing that. Do you feel guilty? Do you feel responsible?

And if you don't make it up to me by the end of the weekend? If you don't? When I resume blogging on Monday, or on whatever day I forget I'm supposed to be pouting, from that point forward I'm going to blog about nothing but kittens. Kittens.... and rainbows.

Is that what you want?

Is that what you want?? 

Because that's what you'll get if you don't make this up to me.

Think about it.

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The Dive Bar Welcomes: Gal Incognito

Today's writer wishes to remain anonymous and I have assigned her a kick-ass awesome Simpsons-themed name. Kick ass!!

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Dear Judgy McJudgerson,

Please do me a favor and Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You are NOT a better parent than me. Your ideas are NOT better than mine. Everything that works for you is NOT going to work for me.

If I choose to give my kid soy milk because that’s what I drink and that’s what the fuck I want to do? I do NOT need your unsolicited opinion about what the fuck you think my pediatrician is going to say.

If my kid sleeps in my bed and he, my husband, and I wake up happy? Why the fuck is it your concern? He isn’t sleeping in your fucking bed so keep your fucking thoughts about it to your motherfucking self. And when I mention that he now sleeps in his own bed all night long? Shut the fuck up with your, "I-told-you-so."

If I want to spend ridiculous amounts of money on stuff for my kid’s first birthday that he’s not going to remember? Let me fucking do that! I’m not spending your money so fuck off! Just because you took a minimalist approach to your kid’s first birthday does NOT mean that I should follow in your annoying ass footsteps.

I love you but you are really starting to piss me the fuck off with your judging. You complain about other people judging you all the time but you never look at yourself.

So listen up: LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING SELF, Judgy McJudgerson. Mother your own fucking kid. My kid is happy and thriving with his soy milk drinking, co-sleeping, extravagant birthday having self.

So shutthefuckup.

That is fucking all.

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I've been tagged... in a MEME of all things!

I've been tagged in a meme called, um, something about books. I'm not sure it actually has a name. Normally I hate these things, actually I still hate these things, because you're supposed to do something and then make other people do it; that's why I created my own, ironic meme. Oh, you didn't know it was ironic? You thought it was real? HA HA HA HA!! SUCKERS!! Anyway, I usually just ignore stuff like this because (I'm a bitch and) I usually can't handle the pressure of having to both properly conform to the rules and then pass it on to the appropriate people. I'm always worried that I'm going to offend somebody by either leaving them out or including them in the list and it's kind of a weird feeling that I'd rather just not have.

This time, however, I've been tagged by Laura at Life in the House that Asperger Built and Laura is a great bloggy friend of mine (it's funny how I say she's a "great bloggy friend," when I don't actually know her at all, do I? I mean she claims to be a married, Aspie mom of 2 but as far as I know she's really a 17 year old boy living in his parents' basement). So, because "Laura" (if that's even her real name) has tagged me, I will participate in this one. Also because I've decided to switch things up just enough to keep it interesting and safe for me. Hee.

So, the rules of the meme are simple. I am to take a picture of the books on my bedside table, briefly say whether or not I’m enjoying them and then tag as many people as there are books by my bed. Yeah, though, that's kind of the first problem right there. See, I don't have any books on my bedside table. It's not because I'm dumb and anti-reading (I SAID NOT) but years of having totally fucked up eyeballs where the experience of reading is physically painful have made reading something I no longer wish to do for pleasure (due to its lack of pleasure). Even now, with relatively normal eyeballs, I've just been so conditioned to be turned off by the whole experience that I can't even bring myself to try or care. And I can't read in bed, anyway, because once the contacts are out it's just a bunch of blurry dots. So, I listen to a lot of audio books (Jim Dale is my hero!!) but they're all stored on my hard drive and not stacked on my bedside table.

So, I've decided to take a picture of the books that are on Child 2's bedside table, instead. I mean, I read those pretty much every day, anyway, so they kind of count, right? Right! And now here we are.

First of all, this is the actual picture of Child 2's bedside table:

And there are just the ones "on" the table, you should see the rest of the room

Yeah, that's obviously way too many, so I've picked 5 out of the pile(s):

Sorry about the flash/reflection thingy. Awkward.

And now to tell you of the books and whether or not I like them!!

1. If Mom Had Three Arms by Pete Whitehead. It's okay, I guess, but honestly I get a little bitter hearing about all the things this dude's mom could do with all those extra arms, because if I had all those extra arms, I could do those things, too... but no. So, I don't know... I'm torn.

2. Encyclopedia Prehistorica Dinosaurs: The Definitive Pop-Up [Hardcover] by Matthew Reinhart. This book is awesome! When you turn the pages the, uh.... iiiiiiii gggggggg uuuuuuuuu aaaaaaa nnnnnn oooooooo dddd oooooooo nnnnnnnns and the Pachelopes and all the other dudes come jumping out at you, just like in real life!! Kick ass!!

3. Big Red Car (The Wiggles). You know, I want to like this book, I really do. I mean, they're riding in the countryside, they see a scarecrow just over the hill, it's really a great idea in theory; it's just that Jeff is such a dick, he makes it really hard for me to empathize with his character. And the others just go along with whatever he says all the time? That's not teamwork, Jeff, that's a fucking dictatorship. Not cool, Jeff. Not cool.

4. Oh, Yuck! The Encyclopedia of Everything Nasty by Joy Masoff (Author) and Terry Sirrell (Illustrator). Yeah... you know... just, ew. I mean..... ew, no. I don't like this one.

5. My First Picture Book of Numbers by Brian Miles. It's not horrible, but it's not wonderful, either. I guess it's just a little bit too predictable for me.

On to the second part of the meme where I am to tag as many people as there are books. 

Yeah, I don't like having to do this part, either, so this time I've decided that rather than pick which 5 of my friends I want to honor/embarrass/burden/whatever I am, instead, going to pick 4 bloggers who are waaaaaaay more popular than I am and will likely never even know I've tagged them. That way the pressure is completely off because probably none of these people have any idea who I even am. Oh, and also tulpen. Hee.

1. Allie Brosh from Hyperbole and a Half. Allie is my blog idol. She's the reason I started blogging in the first place. Allie, you've been tagged!!

2. Aunt Becky from Mommy Wants Vodka. Aunt Becky is my favorite Mom Blogger, even though she obviously stole my name, like 6 years before I even thought of it. I'll forgive her, though, because she's also responsible for Band Back Together and Mushroom Printing. Tag, Becky..... you're it!

3. Jenny at The Bloggess. Jenny is a fucking legend; she's a brilliant humor writer and blogger and she somehow managed to get Wil Wheaton to take a picture of himself collating papers for her. Fucking brilliant. TAG.

4. Kris at Pretty All True. She is the reigning #1 at Top Mommy Blogs and has been for a while, but if you've been watching (obsessively, every day, as I have been) that #2 chick (who is no longer me, I'm #3 now thanks for nothing) is slooooooowly creeping up on her. And do you know why? Do you know why? It's because Kris doesn't wear an apron and juggle fucking blenders. She's an unconventional mommy blogger and unconventional bloggers don't get mentioned by Parents magazine unless it's their Mad Magazine edition, and once you've been mentioned by Parents magazine I figure you've pretty much solidified yourself as a Top Mommy Blogger (I told hubs this and he said "there's no way in hell Parents magazine would ever, ever mention you). Anyway, I like unconventional better than conventional any day of the week. No offense, Mumsyhood, I'm just really intimidated by your gorgeous child and your beautiful blog and the fact that you can fucking juggle computers and apples and rolling pins while your boobs still look great in that tight apron.

5. tulpen at Bad Words. Sorry, tulpsters, I don't know why I love fucking with you so much; maybe it's because you're my Fairy Blog Mother and you suck at it? Maybe because you fucking hate these things and I find it amusing to taunt you with that? Maybe because I know you'll never do it, will tell me to fuck off and that also takes the pressure off? It could be any one of those things, actually. You pick!

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It's so uncanny it's ACTUALLY FRIGHTENING

Check out the picture Child 1 drew of him and me:

And now compare it to the picture I drew of myself:

I KNOW, RIGHT???????

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The Plague Family goes to Target

Note: You guys know that I write these things in the afternoons to be published early the next morning, right? So, even though this will post on Tuesday morning, when I say "today" I mean Monday and "tomorrow" actually means today, Tuesday? Then again, if you're my new best friend Mel who lives in New Zealand, where it's 3 hours earlier than it is where I am, except it's tomorrow; "today" actually means "two days ago" and "tomorrow" actually means "yesterday." Oh, god. I think I just heard something snap in my brain. Shit, did you guys hear that?? Oh my god, do you smell something burning????????????

So, here we are after a weekend of being struck down by the plague. I'm just barely able to stand up again, although I wouldn't if I actually had the choice. Child 2 hasn't changed his clothes or left the bedroom or really even stood up since Thursday afternoon when he came home from school. Child 1 seems to have managed to escape the whole thing, I have no idea how. Yesterday he was supposed to spend the day with my parents so that he could just get out of the Plague House, except he woke up with a cough, which is how my plague started, so I kept him home. Boy was he pissed. Especially since he didn't end up actually getting sick, so he's just been stuck in this disease-ridden house with the rest of us, except he's not disease-ridden. Poor guy.

The weekend is over, which means that hubs has to go to work. I've already rescheduled some clients and am staying home today (not like I have a choice, though). Hubs, being the fucking kick-ass Mr. Awesome that he is, stays home as long as he possibly can so that I can sleep as long as I possibly can before he has to leave. At some point he comes in to where I'm sleeping in Child 1's room (and have been since fucking Wednesday. Seriously, I haven't slept in my own bed in a week now) and he asks who, if anybody, is going to school today? I answer with "Herp derp herpington derps all the herpers derpsalot derpburger" which apparently translates to "everybody is staying home today." In retrospect, had I been more alert, or even at all aware of what I was saying, I should have said that Child 1 was to go to school, but I simply did not have the mental capacity to make that happen. So, everybody stays home today.

I wake up around 11:30 to Child 1 pestering me about who is going to take him out today. Oh, god, why is he here?? Oh, right, that "herp" thing I said earlier.

Okay, so.... I need to figure out a way to get this kid out of the house so he'll stop bugging me. But, more importantly, I need to get Child 2 out of my fucking bed so that I can wash the sheets and actually sleep in it tonight. I figure once I get him out of the house I can then direct him to the couch downstairs. And Child 1 will be satisfied with any outing that gets him out of the house and that he has agreed to. So, what's something we can do that I will be able to tolerate, that they will be able to tolerate and that won't be too physically taxing on any of us?

Oh, yeah, baby: Target.

"Here's the plan," I tell them. "We're going to Target, where you guys can each pick out anything in the store that you want." (Also, I need half and half, which is crucial to my mental well being, in general). "And then we're going to McDonalds, and then we're coming home."

There's a bit of resistance at first from Child 1 who wants to go watch BART trains, but knowing my kids, as long as I give them things that they want and I don't argue about any of it, they'll eventually go along willingly. Funny how that works, right? Luckily I had a bag of mini Reese's cups, and nothing.... I repeat: nothing is a better motivator than chocolate and peanut butter.  I get Child 1 to get dressed and agree to my plan by giving him 6, and I get Child 2 to get out of bed and get dressed and agree to my plan with the promise of 6, as well. He also really likes the idea of picking out whatever he wants at Target.

Okay! We're good to go. I drink a lot of coffee and we all get in the car. As we pull into the Target parking lot, I'm thinking about what we're going to do when we get home so that I can sit on the couch and stare at stuff, and I say "hey, let's get a movie, too!" There is a murmur of agreement from the back. "You guys can pick out one of anything that you want and we'll also try to agree on a movie. And if you can't agree on a movie, we'll get two movies." Then I actually heard what I had just said and I follow it up with "That's only because we're all sick, though, so don't get used to that, guys." Even though Child 1 isn't actually sick. Semantics. More agreeable murmuring from the back seat.

Once inside, Child 1 quickly picks out his "thing," which is a 100 pack of markers. Totally saw that coming, by the way, which is why I was careful to say they could pick out anything they wanted from the store and not just the toy section, because even a sick Child 2 would argue with me about logistics on that one (then, again, I made sure to fill up his pockets with Reese's before we left the house).

We go upstairs and Child 2 is obviously starting to deteriorate because he's just walking around in this adorable daze, but I direct him to the toy section and tell him to "pick out anything you want."

"Anything you want," however, very quickly gets some qualifications added onto it as we move through the aisles.

Anything you want as long as we don't already have one.

Anything you want as long as you know what it is. Can you tell me what that is? No? Then you can't have it.

Anything you want but NO GUNS.

Anything you want but $40 is kind of a lot.

Anything you want except this says "ages 10-12" and you're 5.

We eventually settle on some Cars-related track thingy, I don't even know, and we move to the DVD section.

At this point they're both obviously done with this outing but for some reason I haven't figured that out yet. (I'm slow. Also I'm sick, too!) Child 1 has discovered the very fun and exciting game of Run With the Cart and Then Let It Go and Watch It Fly Across the Store. Whatever, there's nobody around who's going to get hit and I don't have the energy to argue about it. Child 2 gets stopped by the giant TVs and just stands there, mouth agape, staring. I'm practically begging them to come and pick out a movie when I think WTF am I doing? FUCK the movie if they don't want one! "Okay, guys, we're done."

Our Target adventure over, we go to McDonalds and go home, where I'm immediately asked if we can watch the movie we just bought. That would be the one that we didn't buy. As I thought, I was able to shuttle Child 2 onto the couch and finally wash the sheets on my bed. Then, of course, this immediately happens:

I'm sleeping in my bed tonight if I have to fucking kill someone.

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My fever addled brain....

.... prevents me from thinking of anything original to write about today. I thought about perhaps re-posting something I wrote when I wasn't struck down by the plague, but instead I'm going to promote some of my friends' stuff (might as well take advantage of this #3 thing while it lasts, right?)

So, go check out this stuff; I'm pretty sure you won't catch anything from any of them. I assume.

• Cheryl, over at Little Bit Quirky, has been talking lately about when to tell your child they have Asperger's, inspired by the recent episodes of Parenthood. I watched those episodes over the weekend from my death bed and I fucking bawled my eyes out. I thought about writing something, myself, but I don't think I can; at least not right now. So, go read what Cheryl has said! She's a lot nicer (and cleaner) than I am, anyway.
• Caryn, who blogs at Living with Logan, was recently featured in an article written by Gina, who blogs at Special Happens. Oh, and look! She mentions me! I'm just noticing that now. Heh heh heh. It's a good piece about why special needs parents blog. Check it out!
• There will be a 3rd installment of Autism WTF on Tuesday March 8th, hosted by Big Daddy Autism and The Autism Army Mom. At least that's what they told me but I don't see it on the page there. Maybe they're lying. They not very trustworthy, those two...
• Jessica, who blogs at Four Plus An Angel is in the running to be one of the Top 25 Moms Blogs for Parenting Advice and Tips at Circle of Moms. I don't know what that is, but I know that I love Jessica, so click here and then scroll down until you see "Four Plus an Angel" and then hit the thumbs up dealie. You don't have to register or anything.
• Kelly, at Unplanned Trip to Holland, has a really good list called "What not to say to an autie mom." Me likey. You go readey.
• Jennie, from Anybody Want a Peanut, was recently syndicated on BlogHer. Seriously? BlogHer? That's like the fucking brass ring of blogging. If only I could be syndicated there. If only I had ever written anything and then submitted it there in hopes of being syndicated. Details, details.....
• Laura got a new car! And look! It's red and shiny!! (HA HA HA she's going to be so embarrassed by me doing this, I bet... Sorry Laura. I lubs you!!)
• This is a really good post on Super Mom Undercover about what it feels like dueling with "The A Word" every day. 
• My brand new best friend Mel who blogs at kamaness has nominated me for TWO Blogger's Choice awards, which you will notice are now over on the left there. Because she's AWESOME, and not because I asked and it's daytime where she is at the moment and she happened to get here first. That part is just a coincidence; it's solely because she's awesome. THANK YOU!! Now, everybody go and read her because she's funny. And awesome.

There are a ton of other blogs and friends I want to mention but I've been sitting up for about 45 minutes now and I think I've reached my sitting up limit for the day. Hopefully I'll have something new to say tomorrow.

In the meantime, though.... PLEASE VOTE FOR ME. THANK YOU.

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I've been sick

Actually I'm not sure if "sick" is an accurate enough descriptor for how I've been feeling these past few days. Maybe "wishing for death" would be better; or, perhaps "hoping for the end of days." Click here to make me healthy again!

Apparently when the Puke Fairy made her final (I hope) exit from our house a few days ago, she left the window open so that her fucking crack whore sister The Flu Fairy could get in. Let me tell you, people, that fucking bitch is mean. First she took hubs down, but somehow he managed to keep going to work for a few days, I have no idea how he did that. Then Child 2 was struck down Thursday afternoon and I followed Friday morning.

This was a nasty one. You know that feeling where every single joint and muscle of your body aches like a motherfucker and your skin feels like it's been turned inside out and all of your nerve endings are now on the outside of your body and any time you touch anything it's like you're being stabbed with a jagged, rusty knife? That feeling? That feeling would have been fucking heaven compared to the shit I felt. I couldn't sit up for more than a few minutes at a time because it was too exhausting.  I couldn't go up and down the stairs in my house because the effort involved in putting any weight on any of my muscles was just too great, but it didn't matter, anyway, since I couldn't walk, because the bottoms of my feet were too sore. So, instead, I laid in bed (not even my own bed, either.... long story....) and just moaned.

I couldn't sleep, because finding a comfortable position was simply impossible, and then whenever I actually started dozing off, my fucking moaning would wake me up! Can you believe that shit??? It was a nightmare. And then there were the fever dreams, when I did manage to finally pass out. I so wish there was a way to record these things so that I could watch it back later. I'm pretty sure I was working out some kind of molecular physics problem with the way my brain wouldn't slow down. Either that or I came up with the absolute perfect recipe for Jalapeno corn bread. Or perhaps a combination of the two. Either way, all of my mental energy was being put into working on this complicated problem, thus preventing me from getting any actual rest. And then I would just moan and wake myself up again, anyway. Oh joy.

At some point during the night I guess my fever broke because I woke up drenched in sweat. I got up to pee and when I came back to bed I could see the pools of sweat where I'd been lying. But then when I climbed back in to go back to sleep, I thought "I'm so glad I worked that problem out and found a resolution." Apparently my molecular physics/corn bread issue had been resolved and this was the key to my eventual wellness.

Now, usually what I do when I've been sick and start to feel a bit better is I say "Hey, I'm feeling better! I'd better get up and start doing stuff now." Like cleaning the kitchen or loading the laundry or something. This is stupid, because just because my fever is gone it doesn't mean I'm actually better; I still need to stay in bed for at least the rest of the weekend. I can't help it, though, this is what I do; and then I overdo it, and then I stay sick for a lot longer than I should because I was fucking stupid and wouldn't just lie down. This time, though, I've decided to take preemptive action by taking enough xanax to kill a small horse so that I won't have a choice but to lie down. I realize it just makes me an accomplice for the powerful American Rest and Fluids Industry, but sometimes you have to just look out for #1, you know?

Hubs has been a fucking rock star, by the way. He's still sick, himself, and hasn't slept really at all in the past week, but he's still taking care of shit around here. Every once in a while he'll come in, wake me up and make me eat something. He's been taking care of Child 2, who is in really bad shape and won't do anything except lie on the bed and moan. I know how he feels. And then my awesome cousin Lizzie (have I ever mentioned how awesome my cousins are? Yes? Repeatedly? Okay.) came and took Child 1 on an adventure so he wouldn't be stuck in the house the whole weekend.

I'm going back to sleep now, the truckload of xanax I've taken has made me a smidge drowsy.....

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The Dive Bar Welcomes: Laura

Today we have Laura who blogs at Life in the House That Asperger Built. I went over there to find the link and ended up reading and commenting for a while. Check her out, she's awesome!! She has also become a really good bloggy friend of mine these past few months, so I'm more than happy to post her words for everybody (except the people she knows in RL) to see! :)

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Dear Would Be Friend,

Lord knows, I’m not in a position to be turning down friends, but I’m not sure this is working out. I know that, as the Aspie, I’m supposed to be the one who’s clueless about the whole interpersonal relationship thing, but I’m gonna give you some clues about how to be my friend.

1. Don’t blow me off. My concerns and worries are just as valid as anyone else’s. If you want to be my friend, you should respect me enough not to laugh and make some flippant remark indicating that these aren’t things I should be “wasting time on”. 
2. Stop the power plays. I’m not interested in being friends with someone who periodically feels it necessary to play some kind of passive/aggressive game to make sure she “stays on top”. It’s stupid, childish, and hurtful.

I’ll tell you what, being a friend of mine could be a great thing for you. I’m fiercely loyal, an excellent listener, and extremely generous with my friends. I also have a great sense of humor and am a lot of fun. But continue in your current course, and you’re not gonna get to find that out. And that’ll be your loss. I’m thankful for your assistance, and I respect your knowledge, but that’s as far as it’ll go if you don’t change the way you treat me. I might be insecure and immature, but I’m smart enough, and respect myself enough to not allow you or anyone else to be crappy to me, whether it’s intentional or not.

Sincerely,

Not That Desperate

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I've been a bad bloggy friend

I've met all these cool new people who have visiting and commenting (and clicking!!) here, and I haven't been following you guys back and commenting in YOUR houses.

Well, now that's changed, because I've spent the last hour(?) arranging and rearranging my Google reader thingybob and NOW you guys are SCREWED because I'm going to be commenting over at your places ALL THE TIME. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!! *cough*

Oh, yeah, I really need some sleep......

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