I can’t stop eating this stuff.

Miss C tasted it and then promptly asked if she could “keep it” in her room.

I nearly wrestled her to the ground.

I’ve got PMS and I don’t want anyone touching the sweets but me.

I had to be downtown for a 9 a.m. doctor’s appointment last Tuesday. For some of you that might be an accomplishment of insignificant proportions, but lo, I am spoiled, and have not had to drive downtown in God-forsaken morning traffic in seven years. I should mention that the hubby also had to be downtown at 9 a.m. Would the girls arrive at school fully clothed? Would I arrive at work and realize I had on one navy and one black shoe? (Which has, unfortunately, happened.)

I knew they would take a blood sample at the appointment, and knowing that I would pass out unless I got something in my system besides coffee and a bite of toast, I cruised through good ole McDonalds. I got turned around on the way to the hospital parking garage, because sometimes my rural upbringing rears its ugly head and I get confused if I have to maneuver through one-way streets. I finally made it to the appointment and an hour and a half later was on the way to work.

I finished up at my office pretty quickly and when I went out to my car I could not open the driver’s side door. I unlocked it and locked it several times to no avail. I had to walk around to the passenger’s side, unlock that door, and crawl over to the driver’s seat. I then realized why my driver’s side door was not opening. I had somehow freakishly jammed my seatbelt in my driver’s side door. I buzzed the hubby, told him what was going on with my jammed car door and said, I quote, “only me!”

I drove home illegally, without wearing a seatbelt, because it was jammed in the door, and with my interior light flashing on and off because the blankity blank frikkity freakin’ frakkin’ door was jammed. I got home, and worried that my car battery would die until the hubby could get the door unjammed, I did what any able bodied woman would do to shut the door tight. I turned around and butted it as hard as I could with my rear end.

Is it too early for a glass of wine? I had to make an 8 a.m. run to Walgreens because I mistakenly bought condensed sweetened milk, as opposed to evaporated milk, and the girls are having fits over what to wear today and have been trying to “out-Princess” one another all morning.

We have two meals with family today, so we’ll be stuffed like turkeys for the next 24 hours.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Yesterday was Miss A’s followup appointment for her walking pneumonia and coughing over the weekend. Her doctor said she sounded great, but he does, unfortunately, think she has asthma. We are equipped with nebulizer duck, though, and since we’ve grown accustomed to the warning signs that she’s headed for a wheezing episode I am not freaking out about any of this…yet.

Any way Miss A went back to daycare yesterday morning and I headed to work while my mother-in-law watched Miss C. I am usually late for the girls’ doctors appointments but so far this week I’ve actually been early or on time for things and I didn’t want to ruin my track record. Instead of taking the time to pack our “busy bag” that I fill with toys and books and snacks for appointments or restaurant trips, I left it at home and figured that the girls would be able to entertain themselves, which is actually pretty stupid now that I think about it considering we were at the doctor’s for nearly two hours on Sunday morning.

Miss A’s appointment was at 2:20 so when I picked her up at daycare she was still napping. In my dogged determination to make it to the doctor’s on time it never occurred to me that her Pull Up needed changing and that she might need to take a long post-nap pee. She was drowsy and a bit confused since I picked her up at naptime, but by the time we got to the doctor’s office she had decided it was OK to pee a gallon and her Pull Up was dragging. And there we sat and waited with no fresh Pull Up and no busy bag of fun distractions.

When we arrived the girls started playing in the waiting area where there is a musical table, a preschool kitchen, and a fun mini play set with a small slide. But then they both started coughing, in unison and then back and forth, and I could sense dirty looks were on the horizon, so I instructed them come to the “sick” waiting area, which is devoid of toys but presents you with a box of tissue, some parenting magazines, and an assortment of maimed lift the flap books, where every flap has been ripped off the pages, to entertain your children. Of course, usually when kids are sick they just sit lethargically in your lap, so it’s no problem, but the girls were just hacking and coughing, not wanting to sit still.

For about 45 minutes I attempted to entice the girls, mainly Miss A, that the “sick” waiting area was the happening place to be! Never mind those toys out in the regular waiting area, we can play Patty Cake! Mama will sing (and mama doesn’t sing in public) If You’re Happy and You Know It! We survived and our name was called and then I looked down and realized I had on two completely different black flat sandals. And then they put Miss A on the scales and she weighed a half pound more than she did on Sunday and I know it was her pee saturated Pull Up.

Yesterday afternoon Miss C and I were at our favorite neighborhood hangout, Publix, where I was disappointed for the second time in a row to discover they were not giving out sushi samples. She, however, was quite tickled with her free chocolate chip cookie from the bakery, where every employee recognizes us from a mile away as die hard groupies, particularly of the sugar cookies with pastel sprinkles.

I maneuvered our big rig shopping car cart to the meat department and pondered something easy and on sale to throw on the grill what fantastic dinner to whip up.

Miss C wandered over from the lobster tank and made a startling (and loud) revelation.

Mommy, you forgot to wear your clothes!

Me (looking down): What?

The butcher looks up from pricing packages of meat.

That’s not clothes mommy…you sleep in that!

I realized I had on the bright blue tank top (and denim Old Navy shorts) that I usually wear to bed with my pj bottoms.

Well, at least the butcher got a mini thrill.

Spa Flo, originally uploaded by blondemom.

Clearly I am not living right, since the last thing I want to do when I have my period is don a white spa robe and get a facial. I’d like to know what she’s drinking. Green tea? An apple mojito? I’ll bet her feet are soaking, too.

I still heart Publix, though. You’ve got to love the marketing minds behind this attempt to make Aunt Flo a glamorous sort of girl who doesn’t suffer from cramps or pre-menstrual “I SAID IT’S TIME TO BRUSH TEETH!” please Lord let the girls go to bed by 9 p.m. syndrome. And I don’t have the embarrassing urge to hide this fashionable box in my cart under a jumbo bag of potato chips because it looks like a box of green tea or some soothing chamomile eye pads or something stylish and spa-like.

I’ve been clearing out the baby equipment since the first of the year as we’ve officially hung up the “No Storks Allowed On Property” shingle. Our next baby will be a new car for me in the next few years or maybe a new gas cooktop for the hubby.

I’ve donated several bags of stuff to Goodwill but I decided to sell a few larger items. Craigslist has a good reputation among my friends and it seemed to be a lot easier than eBay, not to mention free, so I listed a few things and sold our crib and changing table with relative ease. I had a few smaller items for sale, but didn’t have any takers and promptly forgot about the ad.

Then last week someone e-mailed me about our Fisher Price Incrediblock.

I got rid of the sticky cereal bar residue with some Clorox wipes, loaded it in my SUV, and met the woman in the parking lot at my office yesterday morning.

Clearly this was a very important deal going down in the back of my Pathfinder.

It was obvious, though, within about ten seconds that she would go home empty handed.

First of all when I got out to the car I realized that one of the blocks was still at home on the floor where Miss A had flung it. She has barely played with the toy since the first of the year, but of course since I had moved it to another room she suddenly rediscovered it and it had newfound appeal.

Second, the freaking thing would not work properly.

I put the “dog” block on top and it said “CAR!” The top whirled around and cheerful carnival type music played.

“Well, that’s odd!” I said, trying to keep my cool.

I put the “car” block on top and it said “BOAT!” More whirling and more cheerful music.

CRAP.

No the toy doesn’t say that. That’s what I was thinking.

I explained to the woman that the toy was still operating on the original batteries and I had noticed it was occasionally acting up. No big deal, especially if you don’t care if your child learns the difference between a mammal and a vehicle.

Never fear, because prepared potential buyer mother had brought brand new batteries to test out the toy as well as her own screwdriver.

Obviously she was much more on the ball than me–a mother who can’t even test a toy properly before hauling it to work and trying to sell it from the back of her car in a parking lot like a shady used toy dealer.

She installed the new batteries.

The toy still did not work.

Any way, it’s back in the den and so far it doesn’t appear to have impaired Miss A’s ability to know the difference between a boat and a cat.

Monday is not my best day of the week. I am usually frazzled, wrinkled, and stressed.

But today?

The girls were fed and dressed by 7:30.

We left for daycare and work by 8.

In a clean car.

I am wearing “new” white pants from Banana Republic (hand-me-downs from my mom, so technically they are new to me)…and they are still white.

Miss C was excited beyond belief because she and one of her best friends at daycare are wearing the same skirt today.

I thought I’d made a mistake in a document I’d sent to a client for work, but it turns out I didn’t.

Two out of three beds in our house are made.

I am caught up on laundry.

I listed a few things on eBay last night and people are already stalking them.

I have a vague idea of what I am making for dinner.

I heard some vintage Dwight on the radio on the way home (now you know I have an inner honky tonk girl just dyin’ to get out.)

And yes it’s a fine day, despite the fact that when I got home from taking the hubby a turkey sandwich and started to make one for myself I couldn’t find the package of sliced deli turkey anywhere. I called the hubby to make sure I hadn’t put the package of meat in with his lunch and then he asked, “Have you checked the yard?”

“Sh*t!”

Click.

I went outside and sure enough there was the tell tale mangled plastic package on the ground. Of course I’m the idiot who left it out on the counter and didn’t shut the dogs out.

Oh no, Jack’s not feeling guilty.

And yes, he’s notorious for doing this sort of thing.