All for show

Certain things have had to be set aside these last few frantic weeks leading up to the Memory that was Christmas. It's a lot of work to make memories that (hopefully) will not be recounted years from now to my children's therapist as they try to move past their childhood scars. Now it's over, the kids seem happy and the floor is cleaner than it has been in a long time.

I'm starting to sense a theme to my Christmas gifts. Last year, I welcomed the Roomba into our home for a brief stint as entertainer, pet and sometimes floor cleaner, when she wasn't wandering drunk and disoriented, under the dining room table or running alongside one particular wall in the dining room that she held an unnatural (and perhaps unhealthy?) attraction to.

This year we say hello to the Steam Mop by Bissell.

Surely Bubble Boy isn't consciously issuing a commentary on my lack of floor care by inundating me with floor cleaning gifts, do you think? Surely not. Luckily, I believe we will have better luck with Steam Mop than we did with Roomba, who eventually earned her pink slip and was sent back to whence she came. Although not nearly as entertaining, Steam Mop gets the job done, albeit without attracting a crowd of onlookers watching the hilarity of a Jetson's-like Rosie with a short-circuit stagger through the house.

All this to say I am feeling pressure to write a bunch of posts before the month is over if for no other reason than to have more than two posts in December. No matter that the posts may have nothing to say (although there is SO MUCH to say....O' Irony - how you smite me!) - dammit, I shall post! Something at least. Even if just for show.

The Last Day

Today the kids went off to their last day of school in 2008 wearing their PJs. It was strange getting Little A out of bed and cajoling him to "put on your jammies". We didn't have PJ day back in the days when I went to school (Remember? The Big Chief tablet days?) We also didn't have Read-In days or Game Days. Or Bring Your Stuffed Animal to School Day. It was just work, work, work and More Work. And we liked it!

I have been saddened to learn Big Chief Tablets were bought out and shut down on my birthday seven years ago. (See how I slipped in a shameless plug for my rapidly approaching birthday? Smooth.)

So while they're carousing around the school in PJs I have six hours to do everything that needs to be done for the rest of 2008. Wish me luck.

The Heat is On

My little girl has become a lady. It happened so fast. Seems like only months ago we were bringing her home, all warm and soft and sleepy.

Juno, that is. See, time flies fast people...especially in dog years. It appears that I have piddled around and missed my initial window of opportunity to be a responsible pet owner and have my pet spayed or neutered.

And here's where the Real Ignorance comes in. Having never had an indoor female dog that was not spayed I didn't realize what being "in heat" really meant. I knew this referred to a time when love-crazed, pheromone-drunk he-dogs flocked to the she-dogs with feral tenacity. I've seen the movies with a pack of dogs (clearly representing rough and tough bad boys) as they chase after the pretty poodle (i.e. the damsel).

That's not all there is to it.

My first clues were a few drops of blood on the kitchen floor. Initially believed to have come from Little A, who, with relative frequency, injures himself and fails to mention that he's BLEEDING. A close inspection revealed no damage to The Boy and I was left pondering. Surely couldn't be Big E. We hear about it for days when she ALMOST hurts herself. Bubbly Boy denied any trauma and so I went about my business.

Needless to say we finally figured it out and I consider myself schooled. And I'll be calling the vet. Very soon.

The posts that weren't.

Um.

Hello there.

It's me. Bubble Girl. Been a bit busy-ish. There have been oh so many blog posts these last two weeks. Too bad they were all in my head, and now, now that I have 15 free minutes when I have slightly more than faint brainwaves, I can't remember them. That's how I roll.

Oh, they were good ones too. Full of wit and ironic humor about the day-to-day life of a suburban mom and her quest to keep her nostrils just above the surface of the water lest she be sucked into the underworld beneath her laundry room. Imagine my shock and relief when I discovered there are actually books written about this underworld. I thought it was only MY house.

Since I can't remember the wit and irony that would have blessed this blog for the past nearly two weeks, I will just give the quick rundown so later on, when I'm basking in the sun on the beach enjoying the rum and a sea scrub mud body masque, I will recall these hectic weeks and maybe even miss them. Maybe.

There was Thanksgiving, of course. Which coincided with The Boy's 6th birthday. Six. It's hard to convince yourself that six is still kinda toddler-ish. Pretty solidly into big kid territory. Family. Food. Games 'til all hours. LOVED that part. EVEN when I lost (and lost BADLY). The birthday resulted in a lot of remote control helicopters flying around the house. Imagine giant wasps on acid buzzing around the house. And into my head. Good times.

A few movies have been watched. Only one worth reviewing which I will save for a separate post. Another viewing of Twilight with Big E. She liked it fine but didn't go nutso over it. I'm so proud of her. Dexter. How can I be so fond of a serial killer? It's worrisome.


Science fair. God. Shoot me before science fair next year. Not a kill shot...just a wound.

Book fair entertainment co-mistress of ceremony. ME. In front of people in a public place. I managed not to melt into the carpet and beamed while Big E and Little A read their winning poems in front of the audience without showing any of their mommy's public speaking fears.

That sums it up. You're all caught up now. We'll start fresh again.....sometime....soon. -ish.