I was all psyched about getting back to normal. And then the migraine hit. And the headache leading to full on sinus issues. Add in miserable days and sleepless nights and losing my voice…I mean, come on.
And then, as sista-friend so eloquently put it, we discovered a portal to the bowels of hell under our master bathroom. (Thanks for that laugh, girl, I desperately needed one.)
Proceed to ripping out tile and walls and sub flooring, finding more and more mold & mildew along the way, and you’d think we’d hit the end, right? Surely we were getting ready to turn a corner. Surely there weren’t any more big surprises in the works.
Oh, but you’d be wrong, because that’s when my face exploded.
Well, technically not my whole face, just my eye. (“Just” my eye.) Red and oozing (sorry, gross), swelling until I could only see out of the tiniest slit. Even if I’d felt like writing (I didn’t), I couldn’t see the freaking computer screen. Sidelined. Urgent care. Then eye doctor.
The good news is two days of antibiotics has already helped. Not in a “people don’t stare at me like I’m contagious” sort of way; it’s more of an “I don’t feel like digging my own grave” kind of thing. But I’ll take it.
alarms, dogs, kids, plus your typical panic
I can’t…what…why…what’s that noise? It’s…so…so early.
[claw my way close enough to consciousness to hear 1, 2, 3, 4 by The White Stripes]
omg, it’s the alarm. Why why why why why…do I have time for a shower before camp drop off? Maybe a quick one. I’ll just hop in real…
[screams from kitchen]
What’s that? [check bedroom, no Gracie] Okay, then, gotta be the dog. Intervene? Leave the kids to handle it?
Intervene, it is. [scurry out of the room]
“What happened? What happened? You’ve got to stop screaming.”
[first child gasping with fury while second child presses Gracie to the floor]
She ate my breakfast!
“Well, that would make me mad, too. Let’s just put her outside and start again, shall we?” [drag dog to back door and throw her outside]
Okay then. Everyone in one piece? Phoebe still hiding under the table? Breathing again?
Do I have still have time for a quick shower?
Life slid a bit sideways yesterday.
Sometimes those balls just get dropped. You don’t even know you’ve done it until you’re halfway into your day and it strikes you like lightning – holy crap, I totally forgot to handle this. The best you can hope for is that it isn’t for something life or death. Thankfully, yesterday’s I-can’t-believe-I-dropped-that-one moment was more ridiculous than calamitous.
As a result, though, our family’s gone off the grid for the weekend. It’s kind of nice, actually, and a good way to celebrate our last baby’s
graduation moving on to middle school. I hope all of you have a wonderfully restful June weekend, and I’ll catch up with you soon.
Let’s just say finding out I’m the neighborhood freak around here wouldn’t exactly be the shock of the decade.
“Once in a while, a thought occurs to me. It’s not always a good one, but at least it is a thought.
I once saw an episode of ‘The King of Queens’ where Carrie turns to Doug with the revelation, ‘WE’RE he neighborhood freaks!!’ Of course, they were outside their house, having a shouting match regarding some outlandish predicament while the neighbors were hiding behind their curtains.
It hasn’t quite come to that, but I fear it’s only a matter of time.”
We’re The Neighborhood Freaks! | The Snark And I
I’ve written about a number of experiences that sit firmly on my One-and-Done list…things I was adventurous enough to try but am not stupid enough to repeat. You can check out my run-ins with scuba diving, deep sea fishing, parasailing, and helicopters if you feel like trolling through the archives.
But today? Today we’re gonna talk about speedboats and inflatables.
I’ve been pouring my heart and soul onto this blog for a while…ups and downs, highs and lows, everything from shining moments to face first in the dirt fiascos. I’m sure it must be glaringly apparent by now that life has brought a healthy mix of miracle and madness my way.
So I doubt any of you will be surprised by my crazy cluster %#@! of a story today.
“If only there were more hours in the day.”
“I have no idea how you do it – I can’t even get dinner on the table.”
“I’d love to but my calendar is just too full.”
I’ve talked about how so many of us feel like we’re burning the candle at both ends, and the power of learning to say no so you can focus on your true passions.
Laura Vanderkam at The New York Times took another look, though. It was a very thorough one, too, analyzing her own time over a twelve month period. The results were somewhat startling.
“By getting some perspective on my life, I hoped I could figure out ways to make it better.
So I logged on a spreadsheet in half-hour blocks every one of the 8,784 hours that make up a leap year. I didn’t discover a way to add an extra hour to every day, but I did learn that the stories I told myself about where my time went weren’t always true. The hour-by-hour rhythm of my life was not quite as hectic as I’d thought.”
The Busy Person’s Lies – The New York Times
There are times when you can hide the crazy from the neighbors. Long, hot days with the windows open is not one of them.
Welcome back! Once again, it’s summertime here in Michigan, and the temperatures will soon begin to climb. You might remember that we, your favorite neighbors (HAHAHAHAHAHA) do not have air conditioning and will have every window open in our house 24/7 from now until mid-September. This means that you’ll once again be treated to VIP access to the shit show that is our regular family life, as we are a family of loud talkers. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you of a few things about our family that will, if not explain what you’ll hear coming from within our house, at least give you a little background info to help you paint a more accurate picture when you’re retelling the story to the people who live further down the street.”
A Letter to My Neighbors, Now That My Windows Are Open – 649.133: Girls, the Care and Maintenance Of