It could be accurately argued that the answer could be any but one of these answers on any given day. If the universe loved me, that other answer would come true just once.

I’ve never, ever professed to be a perfect parent. Hell, I hope I pass as an acceptable parent half the time. I make sure they’re clean and fed and clothed. I make sure they go to school and do their homework. I attend parent/teacher conferences and make the appropriate faces of concern. However, I am a yeller, and I do have a tendency to laugh at them when they’re really angry.

I figure that I’ll be responsible for their therapy copays for quite some time. Whatever, all the best people have been through therapy.

So if you want some evidence of my bad parenting, let me tell you why I am so worn out today.

Yesterday, Sassy was complaining about a headache. After some questioning, I determined that the problem was likely sinus related. She was still complaining about it at bedtime so I handed her a Sudafed and sent her off to swallow it. While she was gone, I read the package. I admit that move was a bit belated.

Do not administer to children under twelve. Sassy is nine.

 Sassy came back around the corner and I asked her, “Did you take it?”

“Yeah,” she said, all proud. Sassy is NOT a good pill taker. I didn’t want to say anything to her because that child’s freak out meter is very sensitive.

“OK,” I told her, “I’ll meet you in your room.” I should fill you in that I am a very conscientious obeyer of drug rules.  If directions say “Take one every four hours” I won’t take the next one early. Not even at 3:59. It’s ridiculous, I know. My Honey makes fun of me all the time about it. So I found him and told him what I’d done and what I’d discovered.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

I asked him approximately fourteen more times over the course of the night and he told me with increasing exasperation that she’d be fine and basically stop being so insane. That did not stop me from checking on her 612 times over the course of the rest of the night. It wasn’t good enough to place my hand on her back to check the rise and fall of her respirations or to stick my finger under her nose to feel her exhalations. No, I had to poke her until she moved so I could be certain she wasn’t in a coma.

This went on and on and on. I thought at one point I’d just sleep in her bed with her so I wouldn’t have to keep getting out of my own bed, but there were too many damned stuffed animals in her tiny twin. Then I considered making her come into my bed with her father and I but I didn’t want to wake her up. Keep in mind I was poking her every twenty minutes until she moved.

Clearly at this point I was not thinking rationally. I guess at some point around 3:30 I decided she was going to live through the night because I don’t remember anything after that. Perhaps it’s selective amnesia. I don’t know.

This morning when I woke her up she complained bitterly. “I am so tired. I feel like I didn’t get any rest at all.”

“Really?” I said with a straight face. “That’s weird.”

So, in my epic parenting move, I gave my child drugs she shouldn’t have and then wouldn’t even let her sleep it off. The next time she shrieks, “You are so mean!” I’ll be laughing because she has no idea the magnitude of my meanness.

This explains all the little pieces of hairy tape around the house.

I love Simon’s Cat. Love love love.

The laundry is my job. As far as chores go, it’s a fine one to have. I mostly don’t mind doing it, really, it’s just that it’s never finished. For example, this weekend I did approximately seventy-five loads of laundry. I sorted it, washed & dried it, folded and hung it up. When it was delivered to its respective drawer or closet, I turned to discover approximately eight more loads had grown up in its place.

I have since decided that everyone in my house will select one outfit for the week. One shirt, one pant/short, one pair of underwear. I will allow two socks. My Honey misunderstood. He thought he could have both a work and a casual outfit, but no. I suggest he decide which one is more important and go with that. I also suggest he choose dark colors to hide the dirt. The Bandit is totally with the program. I can’t get him to wear underwear or socks over half the time anyway.

The big problem is going to be with Sassy. She wears a minimum of three outfits a day. If she even looks at an item of clothing, it is deemed dirty and thrown on the floor.  I do, by far, more of Sassy’s laundry than anyone elses.

I have the least. Coincidence? Doubtful.

I’m not trying to be selfish. I’m doing this for the planet. Think how much water I’m going to save.

Sigh. Do you remember that song Lonesome George the Bassett by Tom T. Hall? I’ll forgive you if you don’t. It was from a kid’s album in the ‘70’s, but it was a great song about a lonely basset hound. Ultimately, the puppy finds his fame and fortune with Johnny Cash and the Grand Ole Opry. That has not been my experience so far at least as far as the lack of fame and/or fortune, but I am definitely lonely. Sigh. Ava comes home this weekend and I’m dying to hear about her trip. I don’t have any one to send stupid texts to either with Kelli so busy. Sigh. I did manage to find five things though.

1. Ridiculously cold – elsewhere. I talked to my bestie in Alaska and he informed me that it was 27 degrees there on Monday morning and snowing. I didn’t believe him. How is that possible when it was 101 degrees here that day? Either way, both are absurd temperatures to have on October 1^st. I’m not going to participate in any of this nonsense. Just nevermind. I’m not going outside anymore.
2. Daniel Craig. I’m not sure how I can spin this into good news. What I’m going to tell you is awful, just awful. I read the promo snippet of his interview with Vanity Fair coinciding with the publicity push for the next James Bond film and the anniversary of the 50^thanniversary of the James Bond series. He says that he has given up skinny dipping. **GASP** I don’t know about you but I’m not sure I want to live in a world that is both too hot and too cold AND doesn’t have a skinny dipping Daniel Craig. He claims that he’s too famous for skinny dipping anymore. That too many people have cameras with them all the time and he’s loathe to see his naked butt on the tabloids. I, for one, would be just delighted to see a naked Craig tushie just about anywhere. It’s a sad, sad day.
   

   I’ve always wondered, do they reuse these coolers for picnics? Eww!

3. Possession of an alligator. So a couple in NYC were busted for a whole bunch of bad stuff like possession of illegal handguns and drugs. Also an alligator. Yes, an alligator. Apparently, harboring an alligator is illegal in the fine state of New York. I’ll freely admit that I’ve never been to NYC, a deficiency I’d really love to correct one of these days, but I am familiar with the stereotypical joke about the dinky size of NYC apartments. I’d like to know where, in one of these wee little abodes exactly, one would harbor a three and a half foot alligator. I’m certain the police were quite astonished. I’ll suspect the owners
   

   Maybe this is who we should be for Halloween

   rarely had housebreakers, though. Also, the police found a pair of brass knuckles. I’d rather take a hit from the knuckles than a chomp on the leg from the gator.

4. ABBA.When I read this story I laughed and laughed and laughed. ABBA is getting their very own museum in Sweden. That, in itself, is not why I laughed. That isn’t particualrly funny. Hold on, I’m getting to the good part. Now, I realize that many, many people love ABBA. They must have a huge audience somewhere because they’ve sold 400 million albums worldwide, and they have their very own Broadway musical turned into a movie with Merle Streep for Zeus’ sake. The thing is though, Ava hates them. She is certain that ABBA’s very existence is proof that the world is ending. Really. So as soon as I read about the museum opening up in Stockholm, I investigated how much the plane tickets would cost. I’m going to make her to go
   

   God save the syrup!

   and we’re going in costume. Oh, yes, this is happening. WATERLOO!

5. The found the maple syrup. Remember when I told you about the shocking theft of 30 million dollars in stolen maple syrup? I still can’t get over that. Let me put it another way. There were 16,000 barrels stolen, 720,000 gallons of syrup, and THEY BARELY NOTICED. Never fear, they found it. A massive police investigation was mounted. (I fear that joke my go unnoticed so I’m going to do the unforgivable and point it out. Mounted. Like the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The Mounties. I am so ashamed of myself. At least I didn’t make the sticky situation joke. That’s something.) The Canadian authorities are taking it back to the syrup reserve under police guard. The panic is over. In the mornin’, I’m makin waffles.

We went for Mexiken food tonight. It’s my favorite thing ever and our town has a bodacious amount of excellent Mexican restaurants. I don’t think I could ever move away because if I don’t have Sonoran Mexican food a minimum of twice a week I am in no mood to deal with anything.

My Honey and I are huge fans of Jim Gaffigan and he does a fabulous bit about Mexican food. As much as I love it, I do laugh every time I hear this because it’s totally true. I couldn’t find the routine on Youtube, but this will work. Turn up your sound. PS. the guy pictured here is not the brilliant Jim Gaffigan. I don’t know who he is, but I bet he loves his Mexican food.

So this prompts me to ask:

I went to work today. I drove over there and saw the parking lot and everything. But I just couldn’t drive across the threshold.

You know those days when you’re just positive, if you go into work, you’ll never come out alive?

Monday had been so awful. Awful, awful. awful. It was like Insane Day at Bank of No Forks. Every single call was from one manner of lunatic or another. I was yelled at by complete strangers more times than any person should have to be.

So when I came to the border of the parking lot and, on the spur of the moment, I drove on by. If Ava wasn’t even going to be there to suffer with me cause she’s off in freaking France, then I had to do a last second drive-by. I texted the receptionist that I was taking one of my sick days, because if I wasn’t sick, I have no idea what I was. Apparently, no one at the office was surprised to hear that I’d bailed out.

Instead, I took myself to my favorite restaurant for an omelet and I wrote four pages.  Then I took back some jeans because had some sort of mental deficiency when I bought them last week. They were “long”. I assure you, I am not a “long” jeans wearer unless I have stilts on. Then I went to the Church – as you may recall that’s what Ava and I call the Starbucks in the Barnes & Noble. While I was there I wrote five more pages.

Then I went home and started the laundry and pestered the cat and watched a Tom Hanks movie.

I had a great day and no one yelled at me. I think I’ll be able to face the horror again tomorrow.

I’m really pissed that Ava went off to Paris on Saturday and left me here. Alone. Kelli is busy and I never get to see her, either. So I’m going to be left to my own devices.

You should expect trouble.

Understandably, Ava was really excited. Her crazy sister-in-law is concerned that there won’t be enough stuff in Paris to keep them occupied for 7 days. Clearly, that woman is insane. I could spend one whole day just sitting at a sidewalk cafe soaking up the French-ness of it all.

Ava was unconcerned that she wouldn’t be able to fill the days. Of course, she won’t go up the elevator of the Eiffel Tower. It’s that fear of elevators. I say, close your eyes and suck it up. But what am I talking about. I’m telling you that if I approached that elevator, no matter how much I wanted to go up to the top, if there was a spider in there I wouldn’t step one inch inside.  Nope. (Pas araignées dans le Tour Eiffel s’il vous plaît.)

I’m a supportive sister so I helpfully translated French phrases for her to learn. I suggested that she just record them from the Google translator lady into her phone so there would be no problem with her accent.

She had mapped out all the chocolatiers in Paris.  So I suggested, Je vais prendre tout le chocolat, s’il vous plaît.

She has plans for shopping on the famous Champs Elysees. I mapped out the Chanel location on Rue Cambon and the Hermes location on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. For those I helpfully translated this phrase: Où est la section de déminage? I personally think she should memorize that one. 

For her cruise on the Seine, I suggest: Y at-il des gilets de sauvetage à bord?

I’m certain they’ll have some wonderful dinners. She’s going to need: Nous allons avoir besoin de beaucoup plus de pain pour la table. A quelques dizaines de croissants devons le faire. Merci.

I know the Louvre is on the agenda. She’ll probably want: Monsieur, se déplacer sur. Je viens d’un gazillion miles pour voir la Joconde et, tandis que son béret est très élégant, je ne peux pas voir au-dessus.

Ava is going to Paris with her darling Ed for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. But still, they are in Paris and she may see some ridiculously sexy French gentlemen and she may want to compliment said gentleman. If so: Eh bien, bonjour. Tu es très beau, charmant, et vous le faites à vos compatriotes fiers. Si ce vieil homme de la mienne n’était pas traîner nous avons pu profiter d’un croissant et un café. Comme il est, je vais profiter de vous regarder à pied.

I hope I’ve been helpful. I’m sure you can tell by my helpful hints, I just want her to have a wonderful time and not worry about me here. By myself. All alone.