I gots nuthin’

so you gets LOLcats.

Nobody expects the spanish inquisition!

My ass is being kicked by a 20 pound, grey-eyed cutie. She only wants to sleep with me. If she can’t sleep with me, she’ll fall asleep but then wake up and realize, hey, no mama. I must shriek my head off now. She’s been sleeping in our bed. Which thrills TCBIM no end. She can’t be moved into Boo’s room just yet though, because…

…my in-laws are arriving in a week, which means I will mainly be spending the Labour Day weekend cleaning my stupid house. It’s not filthy, it’s just cluttered. It’s amazing how much paper accumulates. Where the hell does it come from? I open the mail over the trash so that all that crappe goes right into the bin. And yet I’m inundated with papers. And books. I’ve been trying to weed them out, but it’s a chore and a half because I constantly think “I might want to read that again some day.” And then the book sits there, taking up space, or worse, I do re-read them and then that pile of books, which, really, is less of a pile and more like an entire book case, starts glaring at me and muttering, “Oh sure, she reads that again, but what about us? What are we, chopped fucking liver? I swear, we should all just fall on her one of these days, that’d show her who’s boss.” Shaddup, books. I have a two year-old. I know who’s boss.

One reassuring thing: I watched a couple of episodes of How Clean Is Your House today on BBCAmerica and doods, my house is fucking immaculate compared to those places. They were downright scary.

Also. I was thrilled to find that Cash In The Attic is still on – at 5:30 in the morning. Thank god for TiFaux. I have a thing for Alistair Appleton. I know he’s gay, but damn, the man is lovely.

*sigh* And his name is Alistair. I love that name.

Iowa just became my second-favourite state.

Finding Jesus

I’m probably going to piss off a bunch of people by posting this, but it’s been bugging me for ages. Why is it when someone does something wrong and gets caught (getting caught being operative here) they suddenly find Jesus?

Michael Vick, after pleading guilty, gave a speech to the press outside the courthouse. In it, he admitted his wrong-doing, took responsibility for what he’d done, yadda yadda yadda. And suddenly he says, “Thru this situation, I found Jesus and I aks (sic) him for forgiveness.”

Where has Jesus been before this? He only found Jesus now?

It never ceases to amaze me, people who find God when they’re about to be hung out to dry.


Boo’s readings have all clocked in at a nice, steady 90 – 98 range today.

So, good, yeah?

Except I’m going to continue checking her because I’m a freak like that. I have to keep it to a few a day because I’m stealing test strips from O’s stash. I figure a pre-breakfast, pre-lunch and a two-hour post dinner reading should give me a good idea of what, if anything, is going on.

Gushing With Dignity

I ventured down the Mass Pike to a leafy suburb of Boston today. What made me brave the assholes courteous drivers of our illustrious toll road? These ladies. They were all lovely. Ok, some of them could have been psychopathic mass murderers and I wouldn’t have known because I had two little imps hanging off me, distracting me with demands for cups and food and crayons and then there was the taking off of shoes and the throwing of toys. But they all looked lovely. And very non-psychopathic mass murderer-ish.

We ate at an organic pizza restaurant. It was excellent and I, of course, wore a white shirt and promptly spilled red sauce right on my boob. I just personify grace and dignity. The conversation was interesting and these are definitely women I would like to hang out with again. Without the imps. Or the spillage.

(New post up on the NE Mamas page.)


Highest reading so far. Four hours post-prandial. Fanfuckingtastic.

You may say I’m a dreamer….


Get me, I’m in elite company – only 2% of the population falls in this category. For whatever that’s worth….

Maximum Ride: Saving The World And Other Extreme Sports

This is a Mother-talk.com book review. Check out their site for more information or if you’d like to sign up to be a reviewer.

I should be right upfront about things and state that I am not a James Patterson fan. I find his books to be poorly written with pointless plot twists and bad writing. Sadly, I wasn’t disappointed with this latest Patterson oeuvre either.

To continue reading this review, click here.


So I took Boo to the pediatrician. He said “196 doesn’t meet the 200 cut off that indicates diabetes.” Excuse me? It’s FOUR FUCKING POINTS. Four.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I said (calmly – I was so impressed with myself) that I know she wasn’t 200, but that a 196 2 hours after eating was too high and that meters have a 10% +/- error rating. And that I thought something needed to be done. He agreed and checked her blood sugar again – three hours after her lunch, she was 116. Four fucking points away, again, from an abnormal fasting reading. What is up with the four points?

He called the local endo group and spoke to one of the doctors there. The upshot is that for the next two to three weeks, I’m to check and log Boo’s blood sugar before every meal as well as two hours and three hours after every meal. She’s used to grazing all the time, so I’m going to have to get more disciplined about meal and snack times.

I’m also going to have to get used to poking those tiny, tender little fingers. Again.


That was Boo’s blood sugar, 2 hours after eating a meal.

Combine that with a week’s work of her waking up, drenched in pee – armpits to knees drenched, soaking thru a diaper AND a pull-up, blankets, pillow and sheet – and I am about ready to puke with worry. Now that I think of it, she’s been sleeping a lot more than usual, too, and she’s even more whiny and clingy than normal. I’m taking her to the pediatrician at 2:15 today. I’ve already had one meltdown and will probably have another before we leave.

Toddler Picture Dictionary




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