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May 2010
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July 2010

Destination NotNewark

So...I'm leaving in just a couple hours on an honest-to-God business trip, with a suitcase and everything, like a fancy business woman, who regularly gets asked to speak at social media conferences. Social media! Have you heard about this shit yet? I think it might turn into something one of these days. The Hulk, probably, or that thing from Cloverfield. But no lie, I'm going to be at's Social Media Summit in Philly, co-paneling sessions about...blogs. And Facebook. Mostly on a pretty basic level, which, THANK GOODNESS, because otherwise I will run out of web-related expertise in the first 10 minutes. Still, though. I should probably write down some notes, or at least make sure Facebook hasn't reset my password or something. "And this is the login screen! All you do is...wait, fuck, hang on." The funny thing is that public speaking doesn't phase me in the slightest. Speaking in front of a room full of people, riffing about topics that I may have just a smidge more than a passing knowledge of? Cake! Pie! Bring it! Meanwhile: TRAVEL. OMFG. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE. So I am currently channeling all my copious amounts on anxiety onto an... Read more →

Backpacks, Loops & Spoons

Today's the last day of school. There are parties, ridiculous fake graduations, special year-end slideshows. I'm bringing the napkins and paper plates. Noah wears a backpack now. We can drive around the loop without a bone-melting, ear-piercing tantrum. He can hold a crayon, cut with scissors, ride on the big-kid swings and a merry-go-round. He can write all his letters and his name, and will draw pictures of things he likes from his favorite books. He's starting to read a few words and is really, really good at math. We suspect that what we first assumed was synesthesia is actually something more like perfect pitch -- he identifies the song colors right along with key changes, and can describe the color of other tones in the world, like cell phones and car horns. And he can eat ice cream with a spoon. Last summer, right before school started, we went to a pizza restaurant and bribed good behavior from Noah in exchange for chocolate ice cream. Which arrived not in a cone, but in a bowl with a spoon. Noah still ate everything with his fingers, but couldn't handle the mess and the cold of ice cream which is supposed... Read more →

Area Woman Demands Medal For Heroic Rescue of Disgusting Thing She Totally Hates

Jason Storch, Mouse Trapper M.D., caught himself another one this morning. He was quite proud of himself. The dog and the cat, on the other hand, were all nonchalantly hanging around the trap, waiting for me to put their kibble down, COMPLETELY UNFAZED by the live mouse SITTING RIGHT THERE in a clear plastic box, and did not seem to be all ashamed of themselves and their utter uselessness. Also! This: Is EVEN MORE BULLSHIT. That's a dishtowel covering up today's Gladware-encased rodent offering, on the front seat of my car, as the whole "release" bit of Jason's catch-and-release plan fell to me this time. ME! Technically, Jason offered to take care of the mouse...later. Like, "I have to go somewhere around 4 p.m. so I'll do it then" later. I pointed out that while it's fine and great that he's so determined to trap the mice humanely and all, there's something about keeping the things trapped in cheap plastic containers all day --wallowing in piss and shit and probably terrified out of their feeble stupid tiny poop-pellet-sized disgusting brains -- that strikes me as kind of cruel. (Also cruel: My suspicion that he likes keeping the mice around because... Read more →


My weekend got EVEN BETTER, if you can believe it. After staggering downstairs in search of coffee on Saturday morning, I was greeted by the usual sight of Jason making pancakes for the boys. Oh, and this, sitting on our kitchen counter: BELIEVE IT. I took one look at that tiny pointy seizing rodent poop monster -- on my COUNTER, in my GLADWARE, which once held CHRISTMAS COOKIES -- and turned around and marched right back out. Noah climbed down from his stool -- and his breakfast, which was also on the COUNTER, just INCHES away the scratchy disease-ridden furball -- and chased after me, imploring me to come look! Come look, Mommy! He's our FRIEND, Mommy! Don't worry, Mommy, it's just a little mouse, and he's a friendly mouse, Mommy. He took my hand and pulled me back into the kitchen, where Jason was practically on the floor laughing at Noah's earnest reassurances (the very same patch of floor where this very same blinky jumpy dwarf rat thing had been brazenly skittering around at all hours of the night for weeks, BY THE WAY). I indulged Noah and looked directly into the big bulging eyes of the furry helldemon... Read more →


Two weeks ago: I accidentally hit a curb in my car, apparently hard enough to damage the sidewall of the tire. An ominous-looking bump appeared, rendering the car undriveable until we got a replacement tire. We had a spare but for some reason there was something wrong with the spare that Jason explained and I don't know I wasn't listening zzzzzzzzzboring, look, you're going to need to accept that I am a Classic Awful Girl when it comes to car stuff and move on, okay? One week ago: Jason finally made up his mind about the tire, because you know how he is about tires. He ordered a "slightly used" tired off eBay to save us from having to replace multiple tires, because the other tires were fine, at least according to the highly scientific tread-measurements we conducted using various coin of U.S. currency and also zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzboring. In the meantime: Jason worked from home most days, other days we haggled and juggled and chauffeured everybody around in the other car, like pilgrims or whoever it was who lived in the days of everybody only having one car. Last Tuesday: Jason mentions that it's probably time to maybe start thinking about... Read more →


I'm finding it hard to write about Ezra. He is just so...much. And fast. And much. And Ezra. He is 23 pounds -- small for his age, barely hanging on to the 10th percentile on the weight chart, though he seems plenty chubby enough to me -- but everything else about him is big and oversized and miles ahead of where you expect him to be. I don't know how that much personality fits into that little body, so I guess it makes sense that it oozes out and radiates from across the room all the time. He has a temper. "MINE! MIIIINE!" he shrieks when Noah tries to commandeer one of his toys, or when his attempts to push his doll stroller through a doorway are blocked by an obstacle. He'll throw things, collapse in a woeful heap, kick the floor, and hit inanimate objects with a mouthy pout. "EH!" he says. "So there," he means. We're trying to teach him to say "please" instead when he gets frustrated. He'll roar at his stuck stroller for a moment before turning to me. He cocks his head to the side and says "Peas?" He nods furiously. "Peas?" I free the... Read more →

Multiple Choice

Q. You greet your joyous child as he steps off the school bus. He is joyous, and full of joy. Joyous joy that he would like to share with the you, for lo, after three whole days of a substitute bus driver, his regular driver has returned. Joy! To the world! He loudly proclaims for one and all to hear: LOOK MOMMY, IT'S THE BROWN BUS DRIVER! a) Treat this like the innocent observation that it really was and make a mental note to order a book or two about talking with a preschooler about skin color and race, thus equipping yourself to handle future outbursts or questions in an educated, non-reactionary or white-liberal-guilty manner. b) Pretend that your child was talking about the bus driver's jacket or something, even though it's actually navy blue, but you know, your child was just MISTAKEN, like he was COLORBLIND, except...OH SHIT THERE COMES THE CRUSHING IRONY. c) Take a sledgehammer to the sidewalk, crawl into hole, wait for death from the aforementioned crushing irony. *** Q. You stop for a quick chat in the school hallway with a couple of your child's teachers. Another class, on their way to recess, walks by... Read more →


WAIT WAIT ONE MORE, just because I cannot believe I missed the middle finger bit yesterday: Seriously, I'm SLIPPING, you guys. Ezra's face is just fine today, and he is currently coated in three (3!) different bug-repellant sprays of various natural and toxic varieties. This is how I tackle problems: I just throw the entire medicine cabinet at them. We did visit the doctor yesterday -- technically we were already scheduled to be there anyway for make-up vaccines* but of course I managed to squeeze in a little conversation about OH HEY LOOK AT MY DISFIGURED CHILD. He's fine, though I recommend everybody go ahead and buy stock in Zyrtec and Benadryl this summer. And speaking of medicine cabinets and doctors' offices, indulge me while I engage in a few rants about the scintillating topic of children's medicines: 1) First up, thanks so much, TYLENOL, for the recent refund check we received from your recent recall. We chucked about $50 worth of your products -- including the hard-to-find dye-free versions because your Red #40-laden regular versions make my preschooler go apeshit, which is always a great combination with already-generally-sick-and-jerky-acting. It was especially awesome to toss out the almost-empty bottles that... Read more →

Suburban Vampires

And how was your weekend? Ours could have been a little better, honestly. This is all thanks to a mosquito bite. Ezra's always had fairly -- ahem -- DRAMATIC reactions to mosquitoes. He gets huge, hot, blistery red welts that take ages to heal. And of course, he's always been an absolute magnet for the little bloodsuckers. (Noah, on the other hand, doesn't even ever appear to get bit in the first place, and gets only the faintest passing bump when he does.) This year, though. The mosquitoes started biting just a few days ago. I've gotten a good half dozen already, and Noah actually complained of itching for the first time in his life. Ezra got one on his calf, and it swelled up so much you could see the difference in his leg size from across the room before it blistered and scabbed over. So I knew we were in for it when we spotted the bite on his cheek Sunday night. Kind of. Little did I know. Yesterday he mostly looked like he'd suffered a little fall into a table's edge -- a big oversized patch of red to match his bitchin' forehead scars. But as the... Read more →