Yay For Procrastination!

Wasn’t I just bragging late last night that “my house is a relatively happy house”?

Dude, you totally missed my spaz-out hissy-fit I threw night, right after I clicked “Publish”.

Here’s the thing: I decided to participate in the “Write 31” thingie. In order to officially participate, you had to create a little button-thingie (you like my technical terms? Be careful using them – they’re only for trained professionals). Well, first you had to choose a category (I chose “Family”), then you had to choose a topic (I chose “How to Be a Crappy Mom), and then you had to create the button which was a hyperlink (or something?) and link up to the official Write 31 page.

Make sure you do it by October 5th! the website said.

I’m sure they intended that to read as “Do it on October 1st, but if you have to do it a day or two late, I suppose we can allow it.”

Me being, well, ME, I read that as “whatever you do, don’t do it before October 5th, because that’s just silly.”

So, as yesterday was October 5th, I clicked “Publish” and then went over there to figure out the button-link up-thingie. I mean, it was only 10 pm at night on the absolute-last-day-possible. I had two whole hours to work with. I wasn’t just on-time, I was practically early.

…..

And that’s when I discovered that the Write 31 link-up thingie runs on east coast time…. which is a full 3 hours ahead of me. While it was 10 pm on October 5th in Oregon, it was already 1 am on October 6th on the east coast, and link ups had closed.

Normally I would have given a good-natured groan and simply gone on with my day….. but I’m running on a pretty horrible sleep deficit nowadays. I’ve been staying up late every night to type not only write on my long-abandoned blog, but I’ve been writing actual posts with a theme and a TOPIC.

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to stay on topic for five whole days in a row?

So, anyways, when I found out that I’d missed the sign ups, well…. I was just a little bit disappointed.

I handled it very gracefully.

I did not consider throwing the computer to the ground, only to remember it was borrowed, and expensive. I did not settle for placing it gently on the couch beside me before stomping up to my feet and using my “special words”.

I did not ignore The Bean as he tried to figure out what was going on with me.
I did not stomp into the bedroom…. only to stomp back out to the living room to use more of my “special words” in an incoherent nearly unintelligible rant…..


… Only to stomp back into the bedroom with a “Well, FINE. I’m just going to go to sleep. It doesn’t matter anyways. It’s all STUPID. DON’T BOTHER TRYING TO FIX IT. IT’S ALL STUPID. GOOD NIGHT.”

Okay. Maybe I did do a little of that.

But seriously, you have to understand just how tired I’ve been every night as I stay up to finish my post…. my post which has been both ON TOPIC and following my theme.

How tired am I?

Well, after I stomped off to bed last night, I made a decision to chart how many times I was up at night, just so I could share with you.

Now, normally the Kraken is the crappy sleeper and Magpie is much, much better. If I were better about sleep training she would definitely be sleeping through the night at this point. Unfortunately, she’s been having a rough week this last week, so she woke up 6 times last night.

That’s 6 times between 10:30 and 6:30 am.

The Kraken was much better and only woke up twice.

Still – that was 8 separate wake up periods requiring me to detach one tiny little boob leech (yes, we’re co-sleeping – The Kraken between The Bean and I, and Magpie over on an Ikea crib we attached to the side of our bed like a little sidecar), roll over, pull the other baby close, and go back to sleep as they nurse.

Sure, I don’t have to actually get out of bed and walk to a different room, so I’m able to go back to sleep fairly quickly…. but it’s still waking up, and it doesn’t make for a restful night of sleep.

Anyways, now you know why I found my lack of involvement so disappointing, and why I had so few reserves to deal with it.

After spending the day thinking about it though, I have decided it’s actually kind of a good thing. No, I won’t be able to officially participate….. but I’m still planning on doing the exercise, and I feel that by doing it on my own I am now free to choose my own topics. Sure, nobody was going to hunt me down with a pitchfork if I’d strayed while “officially” participating, but still.

So, there’s your warning. If I start posting about pets, horses, books, childhood memories, working at the library, or whatever instead of my kids, you have been forewarned.

Now if you’ll excuse me, sleep (GLORIOUS SLEEP!) is calling me…. at least for an hour or so. On the other hand, who knows? Maybe tonight will be the twins’ first night sleeping through the night?

A girl can hope?

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Rationalization: How To Be A Crappy Mom

It’s Sunday morning. I should make everyone bacon.

Oh, yeah. Bacon and pancakes. That’s the sort of thing an awesome mom would do on a Sunday morning. She’d get up, and put on her blue bathrobe, start the coffee, and then she’d fill the kitchen with the scent of sizzling, popping bacon and delicious gluten-free pancakes. She’d probably even hum a little tune, and remember to hug each child in turn, and inquire about their sleep in a pleasant, never-ruffled voice.

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna make them bacon and pancakes and I’m gonna totally be that mom today.

Oh. Wait. I don’t have any more gluten-free pancake mix. Crap.

Well, that’s okay. It’s not like I said the word “pancakes” out loud. The kids won’t know what they’re missing. I can always make bacon and eggs instead – Lord knows I have enough eggs. With, err, “three” chickens (just like the city ordinances require), I definitely have enough eggs.

Eggs and bacon is still a really awesome thing on a Sunday morning. It’s an American staple – who doesn’t love it? Bacon and eggs. I’m gonna be that awesome mom who makes the whole house smell like bacon and eggs on Sunday morning.

Except….. except I can’t find any bacon in the fridge. Or the freezer. Or the basement freezer.

Well, crap.

Eggs and…. eggs? Or maybe Miguitas – eggs and tortillas? How many times have I cooked that this week? Will they go for it? I glance at the sleep-tousled boys in the living room, lounging in their mismatched pajamas as they stare blankly at cartoons.

“Hey boys… you guys want Miguitas for breakfast? Or do you just want me to make them over-easy?” I take a moment and pride myself in the way I managed to word that – it gives them the illusion of choice, but still leaves them without a real decision. If that’s not being a real mom, I don’t know what is.

Neither boy bothers to take their eyes off the flickering screen long enough to respond.

“Chicken nuggets. I want chicken nuggets.”

“Me too! I want chicken nuggets, too!”

What? Eww. Gross. “Chicken nuggets aren’t a breakfast food,” I say. “How about cereal? Cereal and milk?”

“No, thank you,” DragonMonkey says, all pleasant politeness.

“Yeah, no thank you,” Squid echoes. “Can I please have chicken nuggets?”

“Guys. This is Sunday. You can’t have…. it’s just….” I stare at them, frustrated. It’s Sunday morning. We’re supposed to be eating pancakes and eggs… or at the very least bacon and eggs. You can’t have a beautiful, Norman-Rockwell style Sunday morning with frozen gluten-free chicken nuggets heated up in the microwave on scratched Ikea plastic plates.

This morning was supposed to look like this… only with pancakes instead of turkey.

I mean, technically you can, but nobody is gonna be painting a picture of it any time soon.

I open my mouth once again, drawing breath to tell them no, that they can’t have chicken nuggets for breakfast, that it’s trashy and gross, and terrible nutrition, and we have higher standards than that, and….

… and at least it has protein? I mean, what exactly are pancakes, anyways, but flat, uninteresting doughnuts that you pour sugary maple syrup over? Chicken nuggets don’t have a high sugar content. I mean, it’s not like they’re asking to shoot up heroin, or juggling puppies, right? It’s just chicken nuggets…. and gluten-free ones at that.

Surely that gives me some kind of bragging power? I mean, sure, we’re not eating gluten-free by choice, but the fact that it’s gluten-free (and therefore “healthy”) balances out the fact that it’s 7:30 in the morning and I’m pouring ketchup as dipping sauce for my kids’ breakfast, right?

Right?

there-was-an-attempt

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