Today is our 10th anniversary! We have exciting plans: I forgot to start the crock pot recipe, so we’ll be dining on chicken nuggets and canned green beans. The Screaming Child Quartet will begin their performance around 7:00, after which we’ll take in a live gladiatorial match as the girls try to decide whether the weekend movie will be My Little Pony or Strawberry Shortcake. The evening’s entertainment will conclude with a demonstration from a young performance artist who is able to poop in the bath within five minutes of getting in, every time.
What can I say? Our lives are glamorous.
We really don’t have any plans other than that. We’re not exchanging gifts either. We’re in such a survival season that we consider the fact that we’re both standing after another week to be gift enough. I will say, though, that things are slowly but surely getting better. I see a faint light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just a delirium-induced hallucination.
I realized this week that the different phases of parenthood tend to fall into one of these four categories in terms of difficulty level:
For most of the time from 2009 to 2012, I was in the green box. I worked hard, but I also had regular time to relax and mentally declutter.
When my sixth pregnancy went downhill at the beginning of this year, I was in the orange box, which was frustrating since I felt powerless to fight the ever-worsening chaos.
Then I was in the red box for most of this summer: every day I was working myself ragged from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning until the moment I collapsed into bed at night, and it still wasn’t enough to keep our house from falling apart at the seams.
Now I’m in the yellow box: I work myself ragged from the moment I open my eyes in the morning until the moment I collapse into bed at night…but it does keep things running smoothly!
My goal is to get to the green box.
I spent the day with Grace last Saturday, a subject that contains enough awesomeness to warrant its own post. But there is one thing I took away from it that’s short enough to share here: the reminder that you never know who might see the interior of your car.
A thunderstorm broke out shortly before we arrived at the hotel, and Grace’s extremely kind and generous husband, Simon, offered to park the car for me so that the kids and I didn’t have to walk in the rain. I immediately accepted the offer, but as we neared the hotel, I took stock of my vehicle:
Because we originally planned to make use of the nice pool, I’d piled swim gear and towels for all the kids into the passenger seat and floor. Since we also knew it might rain, my four girls insisted on bringing approximately five thousand items of rain gear, including rain jackets, rain boots, matching umbrellas, and I think I heard something about rain mittens. During the long drive the kids managed to tear through enough snacks and juice boxes to feed an army of sumo wrestlers, and I let them throw it all on the floor since I’d forgotten to bring trash bags and I didn’t want to be distracted while I was driving — this is all on top of the usual piles of extra diapers and papers and mismatched shoes.
I imagined Simon getting in the car, pausing to behold this rolling trash pit, and realizing that he was not entirely surprised that the woman Grace met on the internet turned out to be a hoarder.
So evidently there’s this great “buzzy bee” device that relieves the pain of getting a shot. Glad I found out about that after I have given myself approximately 1, 100 shots in the stomach. But it might be useful the next time the kids need to get shots, or, according to the Amazon customer images, in case I want to get a full-arm tattoo.
Has anyone used this? Does it actually work?
I keep seeing all these amazing, creepy Halloween house decorations on Pinterest. Like this one, for example:
See, there is no way I could do that. Each time I drove up to my house and saw it covered in six-foot arachnids, it would take me a couple of seconds to register them as fake. In the meantime, there would be a 2, 000-millisecond period where I experienced the visceral terror of thinking that our infestation issues had finally gotten seriously out of control.
Today I was cleaning out my Evernote file of blog post ideas, and I deleted a bunch of potential topics. To give you an idea of the type of thing I spare you from, here’s a post sketch that I dashed out after I read One Thousand Gifts:
In case I don’t have a chance to wax philosophical about our 10th anniversary due to all our exciting plans, here are a couple from the archives:
Have a great weekend!
Be the first to hear about comedy tour cities and dates!
Join my email list and I'll send notes a couple of times per month and will never share your email address.