Halloweeeeeeeek!

So Halloween is fast approaching. And if you know me at all, you know this is one of my least favorite holidays. Well, that's not true; I actually like it a great deal. I like the autumn, I like the chill, I like the smell in the air, I like seeing kids all dressed up.

What I do not like, no, what I do not like, is my child reaching in a bucket of candy where 82937423740923704 other grubby mitts have been.

You may have gathered this from last year's blog that was written in a total state of hysteria.

You see, with all those grimy boogery hands, every piece of candy must be crawling with e.coli and influenza. And there's no way to take it home and sterilize every piece of candy, so if my kid wants one, my best bet is to unwrap it for her, fling it down like the plague on the table straight out of the wrapper, then wash my own hands four times. Because. Groce.

And still, beyond figuring out how to actually get the candy from the wrapper into the mouths of babes, there's all the reaching, and the grabbing, and now we have an 18-month-old who will be reaching and grabbing too. And this particular 18-month-old STILL puts everything in her mouth. She's acting a 6-month-old fool over here. So she will grab a germified Fun-Size Snickers(TM) and promptly shove the whole bewrappered thing into her gaping maw, I have no doubt.

I like it eatin bewrappered Snickers

Oh well. I keep trying to tell myself, (1) this is necessary. Halloween in nonnegotiable. I have to let my kids do it; and (2) how can these germs be worse than the ones she's picked up from school? And boy oh boy has Maya already caught some doozies. She even caught and then gave me such a bad cold that I got a raging ear infection, and what adult gets an ear infection? I mean FFS.

Anyway. I do not look forward to wandering through the crowded costumed masses, in the pouring rain, only to have my delicate young offspring snatch handfuls of Tootsie Rolls, Three Musketeers, and bum-bum germs.

The good news is, this year I narrowly avoided having to trick-or-treat at my husband's workplace, so I had no run-ins with Princess Jasmine or any meltdowns or parking disasters or near-puking and all that took place last year.

An update surely to come once Halloween has come and gone. Light a candle for me, child.

PS: I link to my old shit because that was back when I was funny. Goddammit.

Party Time. Excellent.

No really, the party was fairly excellent. See, part of me knows that I was stressing out for nothing, and part of me says "FUCK YOU AND YOUR SO-CALLED 'REASON,' I AM IN AGONY HERE AND I CAN'T STAND ANOTHER SECOND OF THIS IMMENSE STRESS."

So I was worried about everything from picking up the helium tank (oh, and recall, there was apparently a is a "nationwide shortage of helium," I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, what the fuck, world) so we had to drive all over the USA trying to find some. But we did.

Then I was worried about remember the motherfucking pizza cutter. Because how do you cut a pizza without a pizza cutter. I mean godsakes man. So I lost sleep thinking, "What if I forget the pizza cutter? WHAT THEN?!! THE PARTY WILL BE A DISASTER!!"

Then I was worried about remembering Maya's beautiful rainbow bracelet, because the theme, after all, was rainbow. My world would end if I forgot her rainbow bracelet.

Meanwhile, my dear loving understanding husband was like, "Fuck it, knock this shit off you fucking lunatic, we'll bring pizza, find a way to cook it, and fucking everything will be fine."

Fine and dandy, but that's not how my brain works. I was worried about the party favors. I was worried about the cake. I was worried about the got-damn DVD to bring to the movie room. Jesus Q. Public, it's not that hard to understand that I have anxiety issues. Thanks for your support, Code Red.

But all told, it went well. We picked up the ingredients (pizza, water, juice boxes, chips, salad, and champagne because you can't have a small child's birthday without booze), and we made it to the venue in plenty of time.

We set up like white demons, running frantically about, heliuming-up balloons and winding crepe paper and decorating tables with rainbow tablecloths and setting out veggie platters and bowls full of ice and champagne and cups and plates and napkins, and blowing up mini rainbow beach balls, and getting a giant bowl of party favors ready (rainbow stickers, rainbow bracelets, rainbow lollipops, rainbow crayons). Thank God I had help (my mom and aunt were there, along with the girl who lives in the apartment complex, who was am absolute GEM), but we all got it time literally seconds before guests arrived.

Everything looked very rainbow and very spectacular. Well, very rainbow anyway, and perhaps a little cheap & shoddy. But rainbow nonetheless.

The girls were decked out in rainbow tutus and rainbow striped shirts. Maya had a rainbow headband in her hair, and somewhere along the way we lost Naomi's rainbow ladybug bracelet. Bygones.

We started by greeting and mingling and snacking, then we baked the pizzas and served up. After lots of eating and champagning, we moved on to presents. Maya got a shitload of awesome stuff, for which I can't thank my guests enough. Very, very sweet.

Then finally it was time for cake. RAINBOW CAKE!! We all had a good time eating very tiny pieces of cake, since the cake was a little on the small side, but oh well.

People dwindled after that, but it was a party later in the evening, so they all had to head home.

All told, I should not have worried, but this does not mean I won't fucking PANIC next year for Maya's 6th birthday. Or in March for Naomi's 2nd birthday, for that matter. You can't reason with an anxious, OCD mind.

I was blessed and delighted to see so much family and so many friends (chesea, I'm looking at you) for making the long-assbutt drive to Kirkland just to join us for these festivities. I love you long time.

I'll also have you know that while I brought hand sani and displayed it prominently near the foodstuffs, I was remarkable calm about touching various things--moving chairs around, using the champagne glasses that the banquet room provided, opening cabinets and even the garbage door, letting people blow up balloons and letting my kid take those home, letting my kid open presents (doesn't mean I didn't disinfect a few upon arriving home), opening doors, just generally moving about the room and touching things. I only washed my hands a few times too. Before handling food, and then just randomly throughout. You'd be proud. I was very calm about germs and such. But thank God I didn't have to shake a single hand the entire time. I would have headed straight to the sink for some sudsy germ-x action.

Oh and there was even a sudden hailstorm, so we all went out and played in that for awhile. It was awesome.

OHHH!!!!222211@ And NO ONE SEEMED TO HAVE A COLD! Score! Not my kids, not any guests! Thank the sweet baby Jesus thank you.

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Here are a few more pictures for your time.

MOVIE ROOM!!

Happy birthday, my beauty.

Blogher.com

I occasionally re-post my bumbum blogs to Blogher.com, hoping to gain more traffic.

However.

I am shocked and appalled and personally afronted that there is no category for stories what fall into "science."

For example.

I usually post my stories with links to "Health, wellness, and humor."

Sometimes "Health, food, and humor."

Or even "Cooking for health, wellness, and humor."

(I am sure you can see a common thread here.)

I wish there were a category for "egregious assaults to health and wellness" or "people are fucking gross," but you do what you can.)

But when I want to re-post something like my article on how "Science Is Fun and Useful," and my only options to categorize such articles are things like, "Crafts, gardening, scrapbooking, love & sex, weddings, astrology, television, and beauty," I get a little pissed off. Where it the "It's Science, Bitches" category?? Where is it?! Why can't women bloggers blog about science? Why?

I should boycott. But that would be dumb. So I thought I'd just bitch and moan instead. Like women do.

My Anxiety Manifests in So Many Unpleasant Ways.

So OMG tomorrow is the day of the party of the birthday of the five-year-old child of myself!! She actually turned 5 today, and yes there have been tears galore because mommy is not ready to face that five years have gone by since she squoze out that tiny tiny bundle, but bygones.

Can you believe this wee smiling beast?

NOW my main worry is the party.

I know several of you have weighed in on the parking situation: You are all adults and you can figure out where the motherfuck to park, even if you have to drive to Juanita to do it. I can trust you with that. (PS: There is apparently "underground parking," for those coming, which I did not know about and still don't know how to find, but if you look hard enough and wish upon the morning star you may find some.)

So. OK. I get it. Parking is up to you. I have to let go and let God.

But tomorrow I have to:

• Pick up the cake and hope it's up to par (I ordered it sight-unseen, over the phone--shit better be rainbowy enough for my kid who wants an ultra-rainbow birthday.

Nothing will look this awesome, I'm sure.

• Put Naomi down for and ultra, ultra early nap, which I know in my heart of hearts is not going to happen, so by the time we leave the house at 1:30 or earlier, Naomi will likely have had no nap. The party goes until 7 pm so we are fucked in half if she doesn't nap.
• Set out on the long drive to Kirkland and stop at Safeway on the way, picking up said rainbow cake (if not earlier), plus tons of fresh pizzas and veggie platters and chips and pop and water and champagne and beer (no one can accuse us of not throwing a child's birthday party like it should be thrown, with booze).

• Bring the Helium tank (did you know there is apparently a "helium shortage crisis" in Western WA and we had to go all over tarnation to find a do-it-yourself blow-up tank??) and fill 93207492037509327523 balloons and mylar balloons once we're there and tape some to the entrance of the party room and have then scatterered all about. I've learned from past parties that nothing is a bigger bit that regular old helium balloons, floating on strings from the ceiling. Kids play with this shit for hours.

• Bring the Box Full O' Shit which includes plates, cups, balloons, balloon string, napkins, confetti, decorations, candles, table cloth covers (rainbow, natch), centerpieces, gift bag goodies like rainbow suckers, rainbow sticker books, and rainbow crayons 
• Other accoutrement like a motherfucking pizza cutter (what will we do if I forget this?) and bowls to hold shit like suckers and stickers, and bowls to hold chips
• Bring a DVD like "Tangled" or "ET" so that kids can watch in the adjacent movie room at the leisure (somehow I know this will be overlooked)
• I had originally planned to do pinatas untill I realized the mere thought was keeping me up at night: Must buy candy!! Must buy string! Must buy a pinata whacker! Must find some goddamn way in tarnation to hang these motherfuckers inside a community room!! Instead, I returned them (minus shipping fees) but feel much calmer. Win?

• Must find a way to organize a game or two--I don't have the stuff for Pin the Tail on the Whatnot, so I think I'll take a good friend's advice and just do simple, simple Duck-Duck-Goose.

And I guess if people don't like it? Or they happen to notice that some of our plastic champagne flutes are totally cracked and broken? Or they think I didn't do enough to prepare? They can suck it, Trebek.

But I still can't help feeling totally overwhelmed. Wish me luck tomorrow at noon-7 PST.

STILL AM TOTES FREAKING OUT THIS IS NOT NORMAL I SHOULD BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH A 5TH BIRTHDAY PARTY  BUT I'M LOSING IT OVER HERE FUCK YOU ANXIETY RIGHT IN THE FACE

Pray for me.

Either way, enjoy another photo of my sweet perfect angel five years ago:

Happy fifth birthday, my love.

She Has Joined the Purell Side.

I never liked you, Giuliana DiPandi Rancic DeGarmo MacDougal AOL Time Warner McGee, not with your giant cranium and your bizarre hairline and your emaciated frame, but I suddenly like you a lot better now.

Welcome to the dark side, baby. We serve Purell.

Chicken. Egg.

Am I a bad mom because I'm depressed, or am I depressed because I'm a bad mom?

An Update of Sorts.

So what's going on in the life of Jo & Co?

So as you know, Maya is in Pre-K and also takes swim classes. She has been sick for more than four weeks straight. STRAIGHT. Full-on hacking, snortling, coughing, chunky gross phlegmy SICK. Sick all the time. People warned me, but you're never quite prepared for Sick All The Time.

The baby and I both caught it. We have been sick for more than two weeks. I developed a raging ear infection, fairly unheard-of for adults, and I simply can't shake it. My ear is clogged solid 24/7. I can barely live like this. Who knew a clogged ear would sap my will to live? But it has. I can't stand it. Can't stand it. Solidly plugged ear = I want to die.

My husband Code Red made it through the Wave of Sick unscathed. I'm not bitter Good for him!! But meanwhile, we're all plugging along here (pun intended) with plugged ears and coughing fits and snortly snorters. Maya had to have antibiotics and so did I, but they haven't seemed to help. and in fact made me sick as a dog for two days. After I took my abx I totes vommed like 8 times in a row, all night. Thx abx.

Anyway, there's no end in sight, especially because Maya seems to be picking up a new strain of plague every 3.2 days. It's one, long, lingering, ever-evolving cold.

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I keep struggling with the fact that I never take my babies anywhere. We live in the confines of our living room, which you are well aware. I keep having the nagging thought that I should take them someplace like the McDonald's McPlaguePlace, but why? Why would I do that to us? They will only get sick. I did it once before and they got sick immed. There is a 143% chance they will get sick after playing on the slides and in the balls and climbing the net ladders and pressing their faces against the convex plastic bubble thingies. Why do people do this to themselves? Especially because Mays's 5th birthday party is just around the corner. Do I want my child to have the stomach flu for her party?

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Speaking of stomach flu, can I tell you that nothing fucking freaks me out more. My kids never got their rotavirus vaccines, so I know they are doomed to weeks of vomiting and explosive diarrhea.

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Meanwhile, we did get flu shots. I know vaccines are a Hott Topixx around the parenting communities, but I'm a big, big fan of most of the vaxes. Staggered, spread apart, used within reason, but yes, please vax my kids. Do what you want regarding the varicella vax, but godsakes man, get your kids their DTaP. Whooping cough kills kids dead. And flu shots are a good idea, whether or not they contain thimerosol, because flu also kills dead. I'll take my chances with a vax over having deathly ill children. So I'm doing the best I can to keep them healthy (vaccines, we wash and sanitize when we get home, we change out of Maya's school clothes, we employ liberal use of hand-sani) but it's obviously never enough. There's just no hope that this won't be the worst year of our life.

If there was ever a kid in this world who had good hygiene, it's Maya. She knows never to touch her nose or eyes -- she'll run her cheek or her nose with her sleeve, not her grubby fingers -- , but she STILL gets hit by a Wall of Sick in her first week of school. And don't go off on me about how "if she was exposed earlier she wouldn't get so sick." To the contrary, if she was exposed earlier, she would have gotten just as sick, but earlier. And YOUNGER. And who wants that?

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We're also still doing swim lessons, although we had to skip like three of them because of her ear infection and because she was a snorty hacky mess. She has a lesson coming up tonight and I'm torn as to whether to let her go. I guess most people don't give this a second thought, but I do. First and foremost I don't want my kid getting sicker or getting water in her ears, but I also care about the other kids we're exposing germs to. I guess that makes me rare. Most parents do as they please and take their violently sick kids out in public constantly without a second thought to who else might catch the plague.. But I like to think I have some ethics here, people.

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Last point of interest: I'm still totally failing as a mom. I can't seem to muster the energy to play with my kids in the way they need playing with; can't get down on their level and engage; can't seem to want to break out little projects like Candyland or Hi Ho Cherry-O, or big projects like fingerpainting or even Play-Doh. So we sit around all day. Maya is HUGE into video games right now, specifically this game called Spelunky, and one called Minecraft. She LOVES them. She'll play for a good hour. What did I do with our time before I could send Maya off to Daddy's computer to play PBSkids.com, or Minecraft, or her newest game Plants Vs. Zombies? What did I do? What did I do with my time before I discovered the ultimate time-waster, Facebook's Slotomania? (I love to get my gamble on and I'm devastated when I lose. How fucking sad is this.)

But seriously, life here is pretty pathetic. I have been entertaining two ideas lately, that I either go back to work in order to stop being suicidally bored, and also to put BOTH my kids in school where they can learn and experience and be stimulated; or that I still stay a SAHM and STILL put my kids in daycare part of the week, for their benefit.

If I got a job, my lazy-ass nature would make me still try to sneak in surfing FB all day and all night, in between getting half-assed jobs done, but my kids would at least be happy because they'd be attended to. Even though Naomi would be sucking on and chewing on and slobbering over every toy in the room, a habit she has still not lost at 18 months. But what scares me is that she's too young to tells us if something's wrong, if someone's being bad to her. I've always been afraid of daycare for very young children who can't tell you what's really going on, whereas I at least know that Maya LOVES and ADORES Pre-K.

And anyway, how fucking selfish and lazy would it be to put both kids in school/daycare for two half-days per week so that I can...CONTINUE TO SIT ON MY ASS AND LET THE HOUSE BE MESSY.

I've just done this for so long. Five straight years of cleaning the kitchen 12 times a day, and vacuuming and mopping and Cloroxing and doing dishes and wiping butts and feeding hungry mouths and not doing anything but (occasionally) get things in order and otherwise sit on my ass...I am reaching a breaking point. Do I go back to work, something I dread with a thousand hounds of hell? (Did that make sense?) Do I leave my babies in the care of God Knows Who? Do we shell out thousands of dollars for a couple days off for me? And on my "days off," will I still be expected to clean the house top to bottom? Probably, yes. But who the fuck WANTS TO??

The problem is I don't want to do anything.  I am just so stuck in a rut. I am so got-damn lazy, so anxious, so consumed by bad habits, so afraid, so bored, but so unwilling to help myself or my kids, I just don't know what to do.

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Why does taking my kids to Starbucks seems like an insurmountable task? Why can't I drive my kids to the toystore to goof off for awhile? Why can't someone or something help me get back into life and appreciate what I do have, and make the best of it? Why can't I give my beloved children the childhood they deserve? Why am I so fucking LAZY??

It's an ongoing battle. Personally, I feel like I'm losing this battle.