Gone Fishin'

It's 10:07 am on a Monday morning and every single one of my children are asleep on one of my couches. They're on the couches because the a/c unit for the upstairs of our house has broken, again, and it's hotter up there than it is in Denver right now.

(Yes, we have two a/c units and yes, I also thought this was the most outlandishly stupidly indulgent thing I'd ever seen...until I saw summer in Houston. Turns out, when one of them breaks, it takes two days of running the Last A/C Unit Standing ad 65 just to get your house cooled to a balmy 78, with 1,034% humidity.)

(That scream you hear on the 5th will be me, opening my electricity bill.)

They're asleep because we sat up until 12/12:30 watching some bullshit on the tv and playing games, like we do every night, beccause it's summer vacation and they weren't tired yet. They're tired now

I always admired parents who could set a bedtime (7:30 seems to be the standard, from what I hear) and stick to it, even in the summer, even when the sun is up, even when there is not a damn thing to do the next day. I am not one of those people. On a school night, sure, we're all in our beds by nine, but I am one of those people that pronouces vacation harder than summer

I believe in vacation. I believe in summer vacations. I don't agree with year round schools and I don't think that kids need to be shoved into a bunch of camps and classes to retain the infomation they learned the previous school year. (To let their parents go to work? Absolutely.) Summer vacation is survival of the fittest for education. What was taught well and what's important will stick...the rest will get washed away by the water park. 

I think it's important for kids' brains to go fishing on a regular basis. I think it's important for the rest of them to, also, but that's just me and my unladylike hobbies talking. 

2011-07-04_12-55-25_382

I said everything else I had to say in my latest Momversation contribution. Which we are now doing solo. And it kind of freaks me out. See, voice for print.

Karma is a Fickle Mistress

Once upon a time, my good friend Chris le'Cactus went and caught himself the shingles. Oh, the chuckles I had. How I laughed and laughed at his Herpes medication he was prescribed. How I giggled at the beers his doctor FORCED him to drink to relax. How I delighted in reading his wife's side of the story, which was honestly so funny I almost peed a little.

This finger? Pointed and laughed. It was great. My abs hurt after.

Guess who's TWO YEAR OLD has the mother-scratchin' shingles?

Never heard of a toddler with Shingles? Neither had I. It's actually sort of rare. They (they being the ER docs, of course; we had to get our monthly dose, you know?) were talking biopsy-esque talks when the specialist came in, checked her over, said she probably got exposed to the chicken pox somewhere along the line, grilled me when I said she hadn't, sneered at me for a second and then said, "Well, she'll be fine. See ya later."

With that, we are back home. With the son-of-a-nutcracker-shingles. Which really aren't bothering her all that much. But me? Yeah, it totally bothers me that my kid's hand looks like it has 4th degree burns. I wonder if Chris' doctor would prescribe ME some beer.

Whatd'ya think? Guinness in my Sippy Cup? Does kinda have a ring to it.....