She has NO idea how lucky she is.
Overheard as Daddy puts Molly to bed:
I don't want to go to bed. It's stupid.Me (Yelling):
Whatever. It is, like, so not.
Read of a former trailer park kid as she talks about parenting, working her ass off, random crap, and everything in between.
Overheard as Daddy puts Molly to bed:
I don't want to go to bed. It's stupid.Me (Yelling):
Whatever. It is, like, so not.
Chris had his surgery yesterday, and everything went a-okay.
Chris is okay. He is one-handedly typing a letter to his mother.
The kids are okay. Molly is playing in her room listening to her Christmas CD. Logan is slumbering peacefully with his darling little bottom up in the air.
As for me, I'm okay. I'm brewing a pot of coffee and I'm about to get some work done. Life is good, and there is not much more I could ask or wish for. I need to start believing in our family's mantra more: Things always work out for us. It may be at the very last possible second, but it's oh-so-true.
Posted by Sarah Reed at 12:39 PM 3 yacks
I write about: grateful, just thinking
Months ago, my hubby had a horrible shop accident--he smashed his thumb in a press. The best way to describe the way his thumbed looked is to imagine a sausage nuked in the microwave so long that it splits in several places. Now take that image and imagine rolling over the sausage with a rolling pin until it is smashed flat.
Except it wasn't a sausage.
That was my husband's thumb.
It was a mess of bone and flesh and blood, but thanks to the hubby's amazing orthopedic surgeon, it now looks nearly normal except it's kind of flopped over to one side, and so tomorrow Chris is having surgery to have his thumb cosmetically altered so that it will be nearly normal looking. It won't bend at the middle joint, but it will look OK, which is great.
I'm not worried or nervous about his surgery, but more so the after effects of it. He will be in a cast for six weeks again, which means I will have to take on a lot more responsibility--he will be unable to do the dishes or change diapers or fix bottles or give Molly her bath.... etc. and so on and so forth, and so I will be left with those things PLUS my job, and that scares me. I may need to call my shrink to see if he can up the dose on my Prozac. So, yeah, I'm scared, and I hope I will be OK.
This morning I came across a link, where kids can send an e-mail to Santa. Yes, an e-mail (I guess even Santa has to keep up with the times), and he will "write" back with a very kindly computer generated e-mail addressed to your kids. Jolly good fun!
Well, here is Molly's letter she had me write. She wants toys, but I guess getting a wrapped box of Nerds last night from Daddy and some pop-ups (whatever those are) will be enough. Oh yea, and Santa coming to play with her would be nice, too.
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"Mama, look!"She is so totally cool even though her circle does look more like a square. Maybe she knows something I don't.
"What?" Lazily. Looking up from my laptop. Intrigued."What ARE
you doing, Molly?"
"Makin' a circle...!"
"A circle?"
"Yeah, seeeeeeeeeeee?" Motions to the TV while
still contorting
her fingers.
"Oh! A circle. How very cool."
"Thanks, Mama!"
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