Kvelling

For those of you who are not well-versed it the Jewish tongue, "kvelling" is bursting with pride. And that is exactly how I feel today. My boy, my carbon copy of me, my seven-year-old who struggles every day with a disease that can make him appear to be an obnoxious monster, when he really is a misusnderstood sweet delicious adorable baby boy who craves the love and attention that he seems to despise, that boy got straight A's on his report card. He deserves a reward. And, by golly, he shall receive one. I just had to share this great news with my favorite cyber-buddies :)

Delicious Moments

I came home from a particularly difficult day yesterday and my kids were happier than usual to see me. The baby said "Mama" and gave me a zillion kisses. My little girl told me that she wished I was little and could go to school with her. My five year old son detached his brain from his electronic devices (DS, Wii, computer) long enough to tell me that he loved me. Most mind-blowingly, my seven year old son *gasp* actually hugged and kissed me. All that love is enough to get me through the morning.

Oh Crappity

I am doing it again. I have this deep dark feeling that people just do not like me. I usually get this way when I forget my little white magical pills, but I have been taking them religiously. So I am forced to face the reality that perhaps, in fact, it is true. People just don't like me. I know that there are a handful of couples in my neighborhood who have ostracized me. And that is perfectly O.K. Because, really, who needs people who talk about me behind my back and then deny it to my face? And who needs people who take advantage? Not me, that's who. So they can have and use each other. And I will hold a bigger and better party and not invite them. So there. But those are not the people about whom I write. It's the people at work. And the people whom I truly call my friends. Again, it makes me regret moving to this city. Because the old place was not ideal, but at least there were two or three people who would call me. And the friendships were not all one-sided.

Top Ten Things I Love About Weekends (especially long ones)

10. Crocheting, knitting, sewing, hairbow making, jewelry making and crafting in general. (and then banging my head against the wall when it all gets royally f'ed up and I need to start all over. From the beginning $*&^@%!!

9. Catching up on my blog, my e-mail, my websites, other blogs, etc. (unless, of course, my internet is down.)

8. Shopping! (not for food.)

7. Experimental cooking. (Hmmmm, I wonder how anchovies would taste in those pancakes...)

6. Catching up on Days of Our Lives. (Shawn and Belle got married, but fear not, Phillip is still trying to win Belle back. This is the stuff that all that high brow literature is made of.)

5. Obsessing over the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of my house. (contrary to popular belief, this can be enjoyable. Especially if you have a pathological obsession over order and stuff, but lack the time and ability to creat such order.)

4. Making prank phone calls with my seven year old (is your refirgerator running? Well go catch it!)

3. Taking funny pictures of a thirteen month old baby drinking ginger ale out of a beer bottle. (No, I am not including said picture here. Are you nuts?? Do I want child protective to remove my baby from my care?)

2. When cooking experiments fail miserably, going out to dinner.

1. Spending time and snuggling with my four beautiful babies.

Bah Humbug

It has been a while since I last posted. It's not that there has been nothing to blog about, I have just been busy. Good busy. But that is certainly not an excuse to neglect my blog. So I have returned. Here I am. Hi. That was awkward.
Anyway... so I got me a J-O-B. I know it's a dirty word, but someone decided to have enough confidence in my ability. Or they were desparate for cheap labor. I had to go outside of my field, because nobody wanted to pay, even minimum wage, for my services as a social worker. So I am now employed by the government. Except not the American government. Another country's government, with an office right here in the US of A decided to hire me. I like my job because it is fun. I do not like leaving my baby with someone else all day, but we sort of need money to pay bills and we kind of could use medical insurance, so off to work I am.
Yesterday the government of Foreign Country gave us a gift. We had the day off of work to celebrate the torturing and pillaging of the Native Americans and robbing them of their land, which was, incidentally, their spirituality and forcing them into reservations and then bitching about how it is not fair that they are allowed to gamble Thanksgiving. While I fully recognize that I have a whole lot of good stuff to be thankful for, I had a shitty Thanksgiving. There is just no other way to put it. We were supposed to have a big dinner with friends, but they cancelled out on us at the last minute. So I moped around at the zoo all day, because other friends were supposed to meet us there but they didn't show up until we were ready to leave. They were going to meet us at 11, they came closer to 3. Then we went home and my dear husband and I got into a tiff about the fact that my being depressed is bringing him down and did I remember to take my Lexapro this morning? YES! I took my damn happy pill, it just doesn't feel good to realize that there are ten cars in front of my next door neighbor's house. The block was lined with cars. And none of them invited us. I called my mother to wish her a happy turkey, and she couldn't talk because she was busy playing with my brothers kids. So I went to bed. At 6. And they wonder why I think that moving to this town almost a year and a half ago was a huge mistake.