Busy busy busy

So I asked M to help me with the "Park My Ass Syndrome" that I get every winter.  The gist of it is this. I make up a list of what I want to accomplish that week, he assigns a chore every day if I don't get off my bum and do something.  It's funny because every time we do this, he never has to assign anything lol.  Apparently just the thought of him holding me accountable is enough to get my lazy arse off the damn chair.  It also helps that I get things accomplished in the morning rather than at night because by the time I get home from work I don't want to talk, move, motivate, breathe, anything really.

I am also done with the whole not sleeping thing, and no I'm not going back on the spendy sleeping pills.  Why spend a fuckton of money on something that doesn't work?  I am trying to treat the mental pause, which is what I think is causing the insomnia.  So far so good.  This is the ingredient list but I'm not putting the brand name or where I got it here because it was a fluke that I found it there on my (literally) annual shopping trip and have no intentions of buying it there again.

Daytime Formula Features Standardized Ginseng and Green Tea to Give You Daytime Energy. Black Cohosh Relieves Hot Flashes and Irritability. Nighttime Formula Offers Theanine and Valerian to Help You Sleep Better. Black Cohosh Relieves Hot Flashes and Night Sweats.

I take both pills in the morning because when I take the night time one it gives me huge mood swings, and not the funny or happy kind.  Maybe I should take it right before bed?

WOOT

Got a new keyboard, got to spend the weekend with Sarahnade.  Was fire cupped by Mystique.  Spent time at a beautiful cabin in the woods which was great (even if M did get the truck stuck on the excuse for a driveway).  Decided we need new tires on the truck.  Was promised anal if I was good even though I know M is too tired for it tonight.  All in all a fairly great weekend.  OH and I transfered the kids to a new school.  Any old farts like me remember the move Fame?  Or youngsters remember the movie "Step Up".  Yeah.  This school is like those.  It's a performing art school that also has design and science studios.  It's project based which means a lot of independant study type work that is closely monitored by teachers.  There is only one thing that I don't like about it.  They call the teachers by their first names.  Yes I'm a throw-back.

:(

Remember when I spewed coffee all over my puter?  My keyboard has a butthurt...  I'll be back, I'm getting a new keyboard this weekend..

Happy New Year

to one and all

Why I have children...

I totally pinched this from the Rants From Mommyland Blog because after waking up at 3am completely drenched from night-sweats, after about 4 hrs of sleep, knowing that I have to work and deal with customers all day, this made me spray my computer with coffee and giggle while I cleaned it up.  I can totally see my two witchlets having this argument.

The Scene: 9:15pm. A dark and cool house in suburbia. Two children,  J (age 8) and K (age 4) are "asleep" upstairs. All the lights are out in the house and Dad is desperate to have a beer and watch Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. Mom is at a Board Meeting.

Dad is reclined on the coach, when he hears the gentle creek of the stairs. J is creeping downstairs. Dad gets up and meets her in the darkened foyer.

Dad: What's up, sweetheart?

J: I can't sleep. My pillow smells like vagina.

Dad: (*blink*)

The house is dead silent as the two stare at one another for a seeming eternity that lasts all of 5 seconds.

Dad: Excuse me?

J: My pillow smells like K's vagina.

Dad: (*blink*)

J: (breathlessly) K took of all of her clothes and touched herself and didn't wash her hands and then touched my pillow and now I can't sleep because my pillow smells like vagina.

Dad: (meekly) Go to bed.

J: (exasperated) Daaaad! I can't. It stinks.

Dad: Let's go to your room.

The two march upstairs, J leading the way while Dad follows behind, wondering just how the hell he found himself in this situation, and how was he going to resolve it.

They enter the bedroom, where J ups the ante. She removes the pillow from the bed and thrusts it at Dad.

J: Smell it.

Dad: (scared shitless and flustered) I don't think that's necessary, just go to bed (he's pleading now).

J: (yelling) I CAN'T SLEEP WITH MY PILLOW SMELLING LIKE VAGINA!

A high pitched, shrieking voice comes out of the darkness. K has awoken.

K: (screaming defensively) I DON'T HAVE A SMELLY VAGINA!

Both girls begin shouting over one another

J: Wash your hands!

K: I DID.

J: Did not. Don't touch my pillow!

K: I didn't touch myself.

J: You're not allowed on my bed. You're not a good wiper.

As the situation devolves, Dad lifts the offending pillow to his face, and proceeds to do something heretofore unimaginable. He sniffs.


Dad: (thankfully) Smells like Downy.

J: It does not

K: Apologize!

J grabs the pillow and methodically sniffs all four corners of the pillow, like a drug sniffing dog.

J: It smelled a minute ago.

From the darkness:

K: SAY YOU'RE SORRY!

Dad: Both of you go to bed right now, and I am telling your mother.

Both girls go to bed, and Dad slinks back down to the couch, thoroughly shaken and perhaps permanently scarred.  The end.