12.22.2010

The Return of the Prodigal Pants

I don't know if there is such thing as a writer's coma, but I think that I have been in one for several months.  It's not so much that I can't think of anything to write about... I frequently write blog entries in my head.  Mostly ones that highlight my borderline functional parenting moments or those that deal with the follies of my 4 children.  I had a whopper all worked out, but the child who starred in the tale will k-i-l-l me if  I actually publish it on the internet, so too bad for you... and now since I'm up a creek with no funny story,  here's an update on what's been going on the last few... um... months.


  • I have officially started back at school and am moving slowly along my path toward becoming a midwife.  I got 100% in my first class - intercultural communications.  (Which was not that difficult since, based on their answers, most of the class thought that the homework questions were actually a Facebook survey.)    I thought about sending my resume into the UN after my perfect performance, but my husband doesn't believe in the UN, so... peace at home before peace in the world I guess. 
I have several sciencey kinds of classes that I'm starting and  have to do a statistics course that I am procrastinating as long as possible.  I 'm good with the words, but the numbers- not so much.  Also, I'm pretty sure statistics is just something that big fat liars made up to try to convince everyone else that they're not big fat liars.  (PS - I had to take a math placement test.  Mediocre is over-exaggerating my performance. I swear the only thing that saved me is that my daughter broke her arm in two places at the beginning of the school year which meant that I got to act as 5th grade scribe/tutor for 5 weeks... also, I Googled "college math placement test" about 2 hours before I had to show up.  Say what you will about Google.  As far as I'm concerned they can map my house all they want as long as they help me test out of basic college algebra.)  


  •  I have lived to celebrate another birthday, ushering in my late-mid -30s... and that's all I have to say about that... except- my mom got me the best birthday present ever... 2 days with a bunch of hippy birth junkies whose idea of a fun Friday night is a women's energy/sharing/dance circle and swapping stories about placenta encapsulation.  I am out of my mind excited.  By the way Eugene Oregon... if you smell something strange, it's just my deodorant.


(...one more thing about the birthday. Every year on December 10th I reacquaint myself with the famous people who share my astrological sign.  Sagittarius.  Basically we break down like this... writers (Mark Twain, Emily Dickenson, Jane Austen), musicians (Beethoven, Hendrix, Donny Osmond, and Billy Idol), actors (Don Johnson) and politicians (Winston Churchill) including a couple of despotic tyrants.  I was feeling like I had really found my people until it occurred to me that the horoscope folks probably don't include normal and boring lives in these lists and so it is very likely that every other astrological sign has a similar roll call of awesomeness... except for Donny Osmond.


  • The baby has cavities all over his mouth.  You don't know judgement until your dentist peeks into  your baby's mouth and the look on her face says "clearly he's been sucking down Dr.Pepper and Pixie Stix for 14 months".  The first dentist (yep, more than one dentist) actually showed me how to put the toothpaste on the tooth brush and then made little circles with it in the air to demonstrate proper brushing technique.  I'm not kidding.  Just for the record... I have never had a cavity.  Ever.  I never had braces.  I never had a retainer and I have all of my teeth including the 4 wisdom ones.  Clearly, this is totally my husband's fault.
  • It's Christmas again.  I have been possessed by the Spirit of Crafters Past and have an unexplainable and obsessive urge to make stuff out of paper and felt.  Not necessarily in that order.

Merry Christmas all... and on that note, I'm off to send an email to Santa telling him that my kids are signing up for a Chilean miner"s pocketfull of coal if they don't stop their fighting.  It usually solicits good results - after the crying and screaming that I am "the worst mom ever,  seriously Mom, ever."   Aaah.  I love being the best at stuff.



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9 comments:

The Laundry Queen said...

So glad you're back. And, yes, the smell of deodorant in Eugene might just start a panic. ; )

Chelly said...

You have been missed! So nice to have the Best Blog on the Internet up and running again (yes, I'm kissing up to you~ in the hopes that you'll send me one of your paper and/or felt creations *cheesy smile*) Nah~ you are my favorite blog to read~ and I miss seeing you guys every Sunday! Glad you had a funky, deodorized birthday~ hope you guys have a wonderful Christmas!

grammy said...

It's about time.......very funny. I think that "you're the worst mom ever" is generational isn't it? Did I slip to number 2?

e. said...

I never said you were the worst mom ever. That must have been one of my sisters.

side of fries said...

Welcome back! The hiatus is over, and there better not be another drought in the near future. You make me laugh out loud, friend. Merry Christmas!

carmar76 said...

Hooray! Glad to see you back, I've missed your pants! :) Happy Christmas, and WTG on the midwifery ball!

Genet said...

I thought I was the worst mom ever. Oh I guess Bennett said "you're the worst mom I've ever had!!!" -- slightly different. Merry Christmas!

janeannechovy said...

Hey e.--my friends totally did the placenta encapsulation thing: http://jaredandskye.blogspot.com/2010/05/and-now-to-really-gross-you-out.html

Alymcb said...

I am so impressed that you never had braces or a retainer because your teeth are some of the most enviably straight I've ever seen.

I miss you!
Alyson