In one my recent cleaning binges, I found a marbled composition book of Noah's. He goes through a couple of these a year — he takes them to bed and draws comics and stories and whatnot, and then I come across them months later under his bed or in random drawers, filled up with dense, complicated drawings with a lot of squiggly explosion lines and incomprehensible speech bubbles. This particular notebook, however, is clearly labeled: SAFETY RULES. And it contains exactly that, helpfully numbered and illustrated: #1: Never have a car crash when a dog is inside. I'm not entirely sure when he made this — am guessing about six months ago, at least — but I asked him if I could share his safety rules and selected illustrations with you. He agreed, because he thinks it's important that everybody (and their dogs) stay safe. He's really just here to help. #2: Never go near the sun where you might get put on fire. #3: Never go in a grey cloud where you might get electrefid. #4: Never go near a bomb when it will blow up. #5: Never go near a snake where it will hipmotis you. #6: Never... Read more →

I'm having blogger's block, I think. (It's like writer's block, only more second tier and hacky.) I blame the weather. It's spring and it's freezing and there's snow on the ground and my phone keeps buzzing with ARCTIC SQUALL NOR'EASTER WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY YOU'RE ALL GONNA DIE alerts. It's making me exceedingly grumpy and I don't feel particularly "funny." Like, my minivan's battery died on Monday, stranding me and Noah about a half hour from home, but thanks to our particular minivan's state-of-the-art rocket-computer-car-from-the-future-ness, I learned that instead of — oh, I don't know — turning on the battery indicator light to tell me the battery was dead, the car's computer basically freaked out and turned on ALL of the indicator lights and several beeping alarms, while also flashing random conflicting warnings on the info screen about the car's anti-lock brakes failing, insufficient fluid levels and a busted VSC system (whut?). Now, usually that's the sort of thing I can easily drama-queen into a longform tantrum of madcappery and fail. But then the next day it fucking snowed again and the grumpiness took over and I couldn't work up the energy to give a shit. It was just the goddamn... Read more →

So. Noah's field trip to Mt. Vernon. Remember that? "Oh, advise me, Internets, for I am anticipating a great many problems and only have a week to work myself into a full-on hizzy about!" Yeah. It went fine. Noah was fine. Shrug? I wasn't able to go after all — apparently Mt. Vernon is one of those field trips that EVERYBODY wants to chaperone, so they were flooded with volunteers. (As opposed to the boring old pumpkin patches or nature centers, which I get consistently roped into.) Thanks to Noah's strep-related absences, by the time we got our form in we were solidly in the way, way back of the line. (I even wrote a note on our form to the effect of "you should mos def pick me because something something beneficial rigidity freak out speshul snowflake something." They did not pick me, but anyone not picked as chaperone was welcome to drive separately behind the buses and pay full price admission and and drive separately home and you know, on second thought? THAT SOUNDS LIKE EFFORT. NEVER MIND. YOU GUYS FIGURE IT OUT.) So in the end, we sent him off blindly, with a half-hearted pep talk that... Read more →

Sometimes, when I finally get around to clearing out the thousands of photos I've allowed to accumulate on my phone, I discover something special. Something mysterious, unique and bold. Photos taken by someone other than me, by someone with a keen visual perspective and something to say. The latest are presented below, with comment and full artistic interpretation... Through the Glass Coffee Table The exhibit is not afraid to start off challenging. What is this? Where was this taken? Why the hell is this on my phone? Through the Glass Coffee Table, Revisited, With Legs A blurry glimpse of a child's legs and sneaker gives the viewer some perspective, but still no answers. Much like there is a sleeve, but no hand. There is a rug, but it is not our rug. Boy With Green Phone At this point, viewers who are familiar with this particular artist's work (and his family's recent trip to West Elm for pillow shams) will start to make sense of the series. Here, a child remains oblivious to the carefully curated trappings of consumerism behind him, and perhaps even finds it a bit distasteful as he pinches his nose to ward off the scent of... Read more →

(No strep! No one has strep or any other infectiously streppy diseases. We are all fine, although I'm not sure when Jason will stop making me check his uvula with a flashlight because of phantom throat itches. I tried to point out that we're well past any reasonable incubation period here but no matter. The paranoia lives on.) So technically, my dog only ate the zipper of my business suit. I discovered this yesterday, as I was trying to cobble a professional-type outfit together out of a mountain of jeans and pajama tops that I like to pretend pass as shirts. I have exactly one (1) suit in my posession these days, and apparently at some point I left it in a crumpled heap on the floor (WHY I NEVER, EXCEPT I ALWAYS), and Ceiba chewed on and destroyed the skirt's zipper. I had less than 20 minutes before my meeting at that point, so I safety pinned the skirt. Then, as a backup to conceal the safety pins, I dug out one of those black lycra belly band things I used to hide the waistband of my unbuttoned pants during pregnancy. (Why do I own only one business suit... Read more →

Snow day number four hojillion and three. I may or may not be typing this while hiding under my desk. This winter will never end. This winter will never end. This winter can go kick itself in the goddamn balls. Ike is eating Second Breakfast, while also preparing for Elevensies. So far he's eaten two blueberry waffles, three bowls of cereal, two oranges, seven strawberries, one piece of turkey bacon, two cups of milk and remains extremely displeased at my refusal of his request for chicken nuggets. I can literally hear him outgrowing his clothing as we speak. Noah and Ezra are both in my bed, literally fighting like two pigs under a blanket. There's a lot of thrashing and screaming. What there is NOT, at least, is a lot of strep throat, despite my Instagrammed claims to the contrary. Turns out that I am a big fat lying liar, and should be banned from the Internet for my crimes. Yesterday, Ezra woke up complaining of a stomachache. And a fingerache. And a general all-over kind of ache. He insisted his throat felt fine, but still refused to eat anything for breakfast. He looked pale and glassy-eyed, and it was... Read more →

So yes. Noah does indeed have strep throat. This is a first for us — no one's ever gotten strep before, so it's exciting! We got a brand-new antibiotic and everything. The never-ending parade of nonstop adventure marches on, as always. Noah's doctor helpfully taught me how to identify strep on sight (CHECK THE UVULA) just in case ("IN CASE") it stampedes through the rest of our household, and life descends into a revolving door of strep tests, retests and assembly-line antibiotic dosing. (goes to bathroom to inspect own uvula for the four dozenth time because I can't talk about strep without getting a weird throat tickle) Yeah. It's been a hell of a week. My one shining moment of decent luck and general getting-cut-a-freaking-break came at the pharmacy, when I was picking up Noah's prescription. After waiting in a line that spanned the entire length of an aisle — it started back at the deodorants and remained a solid back-up of fellow pill-seeking people through hair dye and hosiery — I was LITERALLY the last customer to successfully pay for my prescription before the computer system crashed and the entire pharmacy was left unable to help anyone else. I... Read more →

So yesterday kind of blew. On multiple levels. Multiple levels of blowing. Hmm. That's quite a visual I just painted for myself. First, there was work-related blowing (ABORT ABORT MAYDAY ON THE BLOWING TALK) — nothing apocalyptic or anything, just one of those days that finally snaps you out of the "freelancing/consulting is the best job in the motherflipping world!" mindset and reminds you that oh. Right. It can also be an unpredictable monster of a rollercoaster with one sudden jerky corner that blows out your eardrum. Stop getting so attached to your projects and sack up, start hitting the pavement, diversify, etc. (And that's exactly what I plan to plan to do, once I wallow in a pity party for jussssst long enough.) (No, I didn't get fired, and fingers crossed, everything will be back to normal in a couple months. BUT FAR BE IT FROM ME TO BE REASONABLE, NON-PANICKY AND TO TAKE THINGS IN STRIDE. YEE HAW.) Anyway. Whatever. Everything is fine. That's also what I said to Noah yesterday morning, when he came into our room and — after getting told no, he most certainly could NOT play with the iPad before school, I don't care... Read more →

I am having some technical difficulties today. Said difficulties involve my scanner being a punk-ass little bitch who won't scan for shit. Technically speaking, of course. Sorry if that went over anybody's head. I've decided that I can fix the scanner by acting like I don't actually need to scan anything for my blog post today. (WHISPER SPEAK: Even though for my original idea, I totally did, dammit.) I am resorting to employing reverse psychology with a hunk of office equipment because I've already tried unplugging it and turning it back on and that didn't work. So mind games it is! I bet you're sorry now, scanner. Of course, this leaves me with not a whole hell of a lot to talk about. Um. Ezra broke a lamp in the living room and so we went to Ikea to buy a new lamp for the living room? But the kids' play area was closed for renovation just in time for Ike to be potty trained and possibly tall enough (if you count his hairz; I was hoping to talk them into counting his hairz) to join his brothers in the play area? And so what we thought was going to... Read more →

Ceiba has decided that she will no longer eat Floor Cheerios. This is a real problem, actually. This is the equivalent to a Roomba suddenly deciding that it will only vacuum up certain kinds of dust bunnies, and deliberately navigating itself around the other kind. This basically goes against her understood Prime Directive as a dog in a house with small children: Help me keep my damn floors clean. She's done an excellent job, historically. Every time we travel without her I invariably have a moment of profound befuddlement after our first meal, as I survey the mess under the high chair or table, wondering who the hell is supposed to clean that up? And then: Oh. Right. We're roughing it! How primitive! But now, she will not touch the Cheerios. Or the Trader Joes' Os. Or the Generic Big Ass Bag o' Osie Os. Honey nut, multi grain, whatever. If it is some kind of grain-based o-shaped cereal she will sniff dismissively before ignoring it completely. What else you got? I'm really more in the mood for something bacon-y. Or perhaps a nice raw-chicken-tainted paper towel from the garbage? (Meanwhile, one time I spilled an entire cup of flour... Read more →