I just realized that its been over 6 months since I last wrote a post. I wish I could give you a valid, rational, justified reason for my uselessness. But let's be honest, very little of what I do these days is valid, rational or justified. That's what happens when you hang out all day with three-year-olds. And just to clarify, the cursing at the idiot driver in the school parking lot this morning was totally valid and justified and rational - the lives of children were hanging in the balance. And my coffee almost spilled which is tantamount to the same thing.
So what have I been up to over the past few months? Well we, in reality it was me (sotto voce of course), have been renovating our house. And ridding it of all signs of hookers and human sacrifice. And painting and planting and killing (only weeds although I've been tempted to widen the list). Coming to think of it though, there was a squirrel death. We have a Staffordshire terrier called Coco. I don't write about her much because she is sweet and kind and quiet and, just between us, kinda ugly.
But we love her desperately because I think she was Mother Theresa in a past life. Except when she sees squirrels, then her crazy alter ego comes out. I wonder if Mother Theresa had the same thing? Only with her it was probably rats - have you seen the size of rats in a slum? Anyway, Coco has been chasing squirrels her whole life and she's never caught one. Until now. She got one... kinda. Somehow she managed to paralyse its back legs. And it was still able to move (drag) itself incredibly fast, all things considered. Coco was horrified. In true Mother Theresa form, she skulked under the bed to self flagellate herself. Molly, the basset, on the other hand was not as holy (no surprises there). The paralysed squirrel awakened a blood lust until now undocumented in her breed. It was like something out of an alien movie - all drool and teeth and growling and cursing (me, not her). And in its terror the poor squirrel dragged itself into the neighbor's yard. All I wanted to do was put it out of its misery. And I had to decide whether to follow it onto the (as yet un-introduced) neighbor's lawn and kill it with the shovel (no judgement okay). Can you imagine if they looked out of their window and spotted me killing a paralysed squirrel with a shovel on their lawn? Not great for neighbor relations!
And then there was Christmas. Which was fun. And made even funner by my hero Micah, who saved Christmas for kids across the universe. Apparently, and who am I to argue, one of Santa's reindeer was attacked by a grizzly bear and was up to his elbows (do reindeer have elbows?) in a workplace injury lawsuit. Thankfully, Micah has a herd of dinosaurs that he keeps on an island near Catalina. One of them is reindeer-sized so Micah volunteered him to pull the sled. So if you thought you heard the shuffle of little dinosaur claws on your roof on Christmas eve, you did. No need to cut down on your eggnog consumption.
What else can I tell you? I (not "we", I hate it when people do that. You don't see the father puking into the toilet 50 times a day) are still trying to get pregnant. After hundreds of visits to the doctor, nearly all of which were as a result of my conviction that I had cancer of some kind, I have been diagnosed with unexplained secondary infertility. Which is a fancy way for saying that the doctors have no freaking idea why I'm not getting pregnant. And I know I should be grateful for what we have. My son has a herd of dinosaurs for heaven's sakes - it doesn't get cooler than that. Except that I get really sad every night when we sit down for dinner because it feels like someone is missing. You know how some Catholics set an extra place at the table for the souls of the dead. Kinda like that, only not. And I know that makes me an ungrateful, horrible, squirrel-killing, irrational person. But there you have it, I am what I am. Which just goes to show... you can live with Mother Theresa and Santa's helper and still want more. Maybe my next kid will manage the Easter bunny? You just never know...