Much ado about balls.

Today some of the neighbor children were playing in the back yard with Kane, Jude, and Reed. I was attempting to straighten up inside when Kane came in with teary eyes and asked if I could please tell their friend D to go home. I asked him what was going on.

"Well, a minute ago Earl elbowed me in the back. That didn't hurt too bad, but then just now D punched me in the balls."

I have to tell you, there are very few things in life that render me completely unable to speak. Get out your camera and take a picture, because this is one of them.

While we're on the subject, last Thursday Kristi was here and we were getting Reed ready for bed. He was in the tub and telling a really long story that we couldn't really understand. He kept leaning back on his hands and lifting his hips out of the water, and we eventually discerned that he was talking about falling down and hurting his little boy area. Then, when he stopped talking and Kristi and I just sat there staring at him, he was forced to say, "MY DICK." Like, "GOOD LORD, do I have to spell it out for you?"

We were like, RIGHT. EXACTLY. We managed to distract him onto another subject, but the moment is forever burned into my brain.

I can't wait until he's sixteen and I can send links to this blog to his girlfriend.

"hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

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Originally uploaded by buffpuff

I'm waiting patiently for my ribs to heal. This has happened before, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I'm really excited about our show at Speakeasy on April 17. It feels really good to be working towards something. Jason is working on some amazing paintings, and I have a whole lot of new jewelry to show off. We have a new lens and it's amazing; we've been hired to photograph a few upcoming weddings, and I'm feeling good about the future.

Jason's infinitely rad brother fixed his car, so we don't have to worry about that. Jason is about to fix the plumbing, so we're about to not have to worry about that.

Things get rough around here sometimes, and I'm lucky that I am surrounded by people who care and want to know what's going on and want to help. It's like a roller coaster- I feel bad and worried, and then I feel good and hopeful.

My karma is loving me, and I'm loving it back. I work hard to take care of three little people who aren't able to do anything but depend on me, and I work hard to make my husband glad that he knows me. i work hard to attempt to give back to all the people who take such good care of me. I may never repay all of you, but I will keep trying.

Whine, whine, whine- can't I do anything else. Um, no.

Yeah, have I ever written here about how I have always been especially prone to coming down with walking pnemonia and bronchitis? And how when I was sixteen I got for-real pnemonia and it lasted a really long time? And how on Thanksgiving that year I coughed until I cracked a rib and my parents had to take me to the emergency room and they took an x-ray and showed me the little crack and I thought, wow? Seriously, from coughing?

Yes, well that has happened again. When I woke up yesterday I noticed that when I coughed I had really intense pain in my right ribs. Now I'm waiting for my doctor to call me back and tell me what the best plan of action is- work, no work, medicine, no medicine, vodka and a shotgun, no vodka just the shotgun.

Reed has a doctor's appointment this afternoon to check out his eyes; they've been red and gooey for almost two weeks now. I'm quite sure it's not pink eye, but I just want to make sure that it's not anything serious or out of the ordinary. My allergies are so gross that I figure it might just be the pollen irritating them, but I'd like to make sure.

Have I ever written here about how my friend Misty had a strep infection in her eye when we were in middle school? And how Jason was diagnosed with strep throat on two days ago? Yes, well I just want to make sure that Reed doesn't have STREP EYE or something else equally horrifying.

Jason's car broke down yesterday, and the dish washer and kitchen sink are both leaking grotesque food-water underneath our house and it STINKS. Those are the things that Jason is working on while I sit here writing on the internet, waiting for my doctor to call, or for Jesus to take me home, whichever happens first.

Don't they have any cling wrap or anything?

Kane has informed us that today was a busy day at his school. One kid got suspended for bringing porn to school, another kid had a seizure, and an eighth-grade girl is pregnant.

Kane's day got even busier when I fell into the floor and started having a seizure of my own.

Seriously, this is what we have to deal with now. I imagined that we would have to worry about this stuff when Kane got to high school; I just got shafted out of two years of preparation time. Where "preparation time" stands for "heavy drinking".

I know that this stuff happens; I know that this 13-year-old girl isn't the first thirteen-year-old girl to get pregnant. I KNOW IT. But, just like people imagine that their children will be well-behaved, quiet, contemplative, calm, patient, people imagine that their children won't have sex until they're, I don't know, OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE TO THE CHEVRON TO BUY CONDOMS. Seriously, that girl can't get her own contraceptives, and now she's pregnant. It's actually the fault of the DMV.

My point is that just as I have come to terms with the fact that my children are going to misbehave, yell, hit, and writhe, I am starting to fear that I will have to come to terms with driving my child's girlfriend to the doctor for prenatal care, since my child won't be old enough to drive her himself. Hell; my child's pregnant girlfriend's PARENTS might not be old enough to drive her there- less and less surprises me.

What I'm saying is that parenting is not for me. Nevermind. I'm returning all three of them tomorrow. Now I just have to find the receipt.

P.S. Kane was just telling us that in his English class they had to write and autobiography including some things they want to do in the future. "By the time I'm thirty I want to be the first man to land on an asteroid and discover a new metal." So I probably don't have to worry about the sex stuff for at least a few more years.

Single-handedly keeping Stayfree in business.

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Originally uploaded by buffpuff

I haven't been writing enough lately. It has something to do with my INTENSE EXHAUSTION- it causes me to pay less attention to the things that aren't absolutely necessary to make it from getting out of the bed in the morning to getting into the bed at night.

I am now the proud owner of one less baby and one more little boy. It is truly bizarre how much he understands and can communicate on a daily basis. He tells me what makes him sad, what makes him happy, when he's hungry and thirsty, when he's tired. He listens when I'm talking to other people and asks me questions about the stories I tell.

Living with Kane, Jude, and Reed is unlike anything I could have possibly predicted for myself. They are loud, rough, funny, irreverent. Some days it's like living with every male friend and boyfriend I've ever had, except at the end of the day I still want to be around them.

I mean, you know, most of the time.

Anyways, most days I lean heavily on patience, perseverance, Jesus, instinct, and the telephone to make it through.

Last night I actually found myself in bed, reading, and thinking that I couldn't wait until bedtime tonight. I was in my bed, and longing for being in my bed, just 24 hours later. Wrap your head around that one. I just knew that today would be a test, a wonderful day that would start with a lot of candy, so much sugar that Reed would vibrate, and that Jason would be at work all day, that there would be laughter and wonder but many, many fits and tantrums and misunderstandings and impatience. And today was beautiful and affirming and lovely, and long and exhausting.

The first period I had since November is still here, still happening, one month long so far. This is a condition I've been dealing with since I was thirteen years old, and I've been to numerous doctors countless times to try and deal with it. When it flares up like this it is so consuming that it becomes difficult to see past it, to remember that there MIGHT be a time again when I won't have to carry 17 pounds of lady supplies, along with iron pills and ibuprofen, everywhere I go, that the intense and lasting rushing hormones won't control my emotions forever, that one day I will be normal again.

That last one is a real stretch; I think I won't hold my breath.

I'll take the high road, and you take the low road.

So we went out for St. Patrick's Day last night, which was a triumph over the germs and illness and lung crap I've been experiencing for the past week. I have to say that I just can't party like I used to. I mean, I DID party like I used to, but I spent this whole entire day feeling totally obliterated, nauseated and headachy, and it was the antithesis of fun. Last night, however, was the THESIS of fun. There were jello shots and green beer and sequined bow ties and puppies and much needed laughter.

I don't think Reed has pink eye, but something is wrong with him and I'm not sure what. I think maybe the pollen is coming in and it's just affecting him adversely. We'll see.

Today I was off work; tomorrow it's back to the grindstone. Perhaps this incredible hangover will have worn off by then.

Bird flu?

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Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor

Bronchitis? I don't know. Whatever it is, it's hanging around for a second week. The fever is gone, as well as that pesky sense that I am just about to die from all the mucus. My nose is only partly stopped up. But my eyes and nostrils still feel hot and fat, and I'm still using my inhaler four or five times a day.

So, all in all, some is, some ain't.

I went to the craft shop one day week-before-last, right before the plague came to my house, and totally loaded up on my favorite polymer clay. I went in thinking, "I'm going to buy one or two new colors to make new stuff for our show." Then it was on sale for much cheaper than normal, and the next thing I knew I had a basket full of stuff. The sad part is, I'm looking at this picture and thinking, "Wait, I didn't get any greens!"

I'm feeling like Jason and I are in the midst of this whirlwind of opportunities and we're grasping at all of them, and waiting to see what we have in our hands once the weather calms down. No matter what happens, it feels good to be striving for something.

Now we're just waiting for tomorrow morning when we can discern whether or not Reed has the pink eye.

It is NEVER boring in this house.

There's a picture opposite me of my primitive ancestry.

I forgot to mention that They Might Be Giants was FANTASTIC. I've seen them once before in Atlanta at the Roxy Theatre, about a million years ago- seven years? Six? I've slept since then, so I don't really know.

Anyway, when I was telling Jason that he must go with me to see them I said, "There will be BALLOONS and CONFETTI. Of course you're going."

We went on Sunday night to Workplay despite Jason's stomach virus and my possible impending stomach virus- Reed threw up a couple of times on Friday and is STILL having diarrhea. My day today started off with my thinking that I might die because my chest is so tight and congested and then having the distinct pleasure of cleaning poop off one of my kitchen chairs. Where it had exploded out of the TOP of the back of the pull-up. Jealous?

Yes, so we went and sort of cautiously started nursing a beer apiece and listened to Oppenheimer who were opening, and we were quite pleased. I laid into a couple more beers and took some pictures and it was nice. Of course they sold out, and we didn't get there until 8:10 when the doors opened at 8:00, for Pete's sakes, so there wasn't any place to sit. But we found a nice place to stand where we could see the stage really well, and I thought about the show at the Roxy where I was about a football field away from the band and thanked life for tiny blessings.

Right before the headliner went on a couple of guys took the stage and started throwing big, foam fingers out into the audience. These were the last pictures I took before a Mrs. Hoss security woman took me outside and told me that only one person was aloud to take professional shots of the band, so I couldn't take any. I used some meditation-style breathing and just kept my mouth shut; Jason took the camera to the car and we went back in just as They Might Be Giants took the stage.

And, just as I promised, there was confetti and balloons. They played a good set list- a nice mix of new songs and old stuff. I have to admit that I don't know that new stuff but I like it. Lincoln, Apollo 18, and Flood are the albums that I know best. They played Birdhouse In Your Soul, and I couldn't stop smiling, I mean my cheeks hurt by the end of it. Then during the encore I leaned up to Jason and said, "Oh, they're going to play Istanbul." He looked at me skeptically and said, "Hm. I don't now; maybe." And then, like clockwork, they closed with Istanbul.

I told Jason after the show that in a way I understand the desire to be unpredictable and to keep moving forward and do new stuff and get appreciation for it. But I've been listening to that band for ten years now, and it's like hugging and old friend to hear them play some of my favorite old songs.

But it's still nowhere near as satisfying as cleaning poop of off my two-year-old's shoulder blades.

Hep meh!

Okay; sorry for my absence. Here's a quick update:

Vomit, diarrhea, bronchitis, oh my! My doctor said, "You know, you've had a hard year." I said, "You don't know the half of it."

We got our tax refund a couple of weeks ago, and as a result livin' has been easy, at least easier than usual for a while. This is the one time of year when the kids have lunch money and the bills get paid and we stop to breathe for just a minute.

Jason and I are showing our photographs, jewelry, and possibly some artwork on April 17 at Speakeasy, and I am awfully excited about it. Now if I can just kick the liquid in my bronchial areas maybe I can actually prepare.

I have a lot of things in store for my jewelry-making, but I might not be listing any of it until after the show. It makes sense to make tons and tons of new stuff and have it there for sale and just hold off on listing things until after. So my Etsy will probably slow down for the next few weeks, but I'll be back in full force on April 18. Or, let's face it, it'll be a few days after that.

I asked Reed this morning how he feels, and he replied, "Well, I feel good." It's nice having a miniature, white James Brown in my house. I hope I'll feel good, too, in a few days.

Five things.

1. I am very much looking forward to a girly night with one of my many bitches this Wednesday night.

2. I am very much looking forward to Officer Nick's birthday party this Saturday night- put a keg, some policemen, at least one police car, two photographers, and the Party Bot all in one location and something odd is sure to happen.

3. I am pooping my pants about seeing They Might Be Giants Sunday night. I didn't even know that they're coming until Jason clued me in last night. Needless to say within five minutes, two tickets were mine.

4. I am hopeful about a trip to Mexico for New Year's Eve this year. The last time Jason and I went on a vacation that lasted more then 2 days and that didn't involve sleeping over at a friend's house was when we went on our honeymoon- four-and-a-half years ago.

5. Upon thinking about this trip to Mexico, I am realizing that Reed will be three years old when we take this trip. I can't really clearly describe the way this makes me feel. It's very surreal, actually, like, there will be this little dude in my house who somehow sprung from the baby my body made. But instead of being my baby, he'll be... a little dude.

And a post script: I have now been at this job for one year. People Who Accuse Me of Stealing Sunglasses, People Who Throw Boxes At Me, People Who Talk To Me Like I'm An Idiot, YOU CANNOT GET ME DOWN. I throw down celebratorily on all your asses.