There is a direct correlation between how badly a person needs coffee and how badly that person is going to screw up in attempting to make said coffee.  Today I was momentarily confused to see only clear liquid in the coffee pot.  Was the 'on' button lit up?  Yes.  Had I put in a filter and grounds?  Yes.  Did I... oh.  Yeah.  Forgot to pour the water into the machine.  Time to put on the dunce cap and sit in the corner and blog while I wait for the coffee to actually brew.
I told E the other day that  I was so tired, I felt like I could sleep for a week and still wake up tired.  I don't think it's physical exhaustion.  I think it's deeper than that.  That tends to happen to me when I think I've got everything under control.
Here is a brief list of lies I realize I was telling myself:
Months since I have seen Skittles (a.k.a. the Munchkin)?  Eh, talking on the phone is close enough.
Teeny Bear going to prom the same year as my baby brother?  That doesn't turn my brain inside out THAT bad.
Ladybug  looks 2 years older with her new haircut?  No matter; I'm fully ready for my baby to grow up.
Baby Duck wants to have a slumber party for her birthday with 6 of her closest friends?  That'll be easier than inviting the entire class to Chuck E. Cheese or something.
E has to go out of town on a moment's notice?  It's been that way for a long time... surely it's not getting worse...
We're shorthanded at work and they need me to fill in?  That's okay, my house won't fall down without me...
No wonder sleep isn't helping...

CL

For a long time (read: years) I have struggled off an on with epic bedtime battles.  Generally my oldest, Baby Duck, is the primary issue with only slight occasional backup from Ladybug.
Tonight, after a two hour battle, I finally went in their room and laid down the law.  "Go. To. Bed.  Do not come out of your room again FOR ANY REASON!!!"
Baby Duck immediately delivered her usual rebuttal: "But what if we have to go to the bathroom?"
Tonight my immense frustration took over and she got a different answer.  "Just pee the bed, then!  Goodnight!"
Not ten minutes later, Ladybug (a.k.a. Miss Literal) did it.
Mmmm, crow.  Tasty.

CL

What an eventful evening at dance!  This was the first week that I tried not standing at the window watching (Ladybug gets extremely distracted by my presence).  To keep myself busy in the waiting room, I decided to clean out and organize my purse.  I was discarding expired coupons when it happened:  I got attacked by the crazy coupon lady-- and I liked it!  Sure, I had to pretend I didn't know how to layer store coupons with manufacturer's coupons, but she worked for the local paper, so she knew the ins and outs of all the inserts that come in the Sunday paper.  I got a great deal on having the Sunday paper delivered (since I had been planning on starting to get it anyway, so why not buy it from the fellow dance mom?), plus a two inch thick stack of coupon inserts from this week!  The coupons she gave me will more than reimburse me for the entire six months I paid for!  That was the good. 
Now for the bad:  Baby Duck couldn't find her street shoes in her cubby when it was time to switch from tap shoes to ballet shoes.  The teacher was kind enough to automatically search everyone else's bag so I didn't have to ask, but unfortunately they were nowhere to be found.  I told the teacher to go ahead and continue with class; we could scour the room after the hour was up.  I was looking around the lobby when one of the other moms asked what they looked like.  I described them and she said she thought she saw one of the dads with that pair of shoes in his hand, but he had gone out to his car.  When he came back, he had no shoes in his hand.  I continued looking around, even asking at the front desk if anyone had turned them in.  The girl at the counter sent me to dig through the lost and found box that I had already looked through.  I went to go look again, trying to passively make the man aware that I was in fact looking for my daughter's shoes, when the woman who had seen him with them started asking him about them.  He seemed to have a difficult time with English, so she had to repeat it several times.  Finally, he went out to his car and came back with them.  I thanked him, playing it off as though he surely must have just thought they belonged to his daughter.  Baby Duck was confused how that guy had them, but happy to have them back.  She had been crying quite a bit since they were some brand new spring/summer canvas flats I had just bought her.  The man's daughter seemed to look as though she had thought she was getting new shoes and now wasn't.
Then it almost got ugly.  The man must have turned on his Rosetta Stone CD when he went out to his car, because suddenly English wasn't giving him any trouble.  He pointed aggressively at Baby Duck's feet, noting the gap at the heel.
"Those are too big for her!" he said aggressively.  Really?  My jaw dropped.  Was this guy actually going to try to steal the shoes again, and this time directly off my daughter's feet?  I took a moment to look at him incredulously.
"Yes, they're new, so they're a bit big.  Girls, get your coats on."  I turned my back, gathered my kids and left.  The mom who busted him was shortly behind me, so at least I was able to thank her in the parking lot and leave before I got myself into trouble.

CL

Another senseless bad dream that I can't stop replaying in my head, so I'm going to purge it here:
I was having a perfectly nice day with my husband until it was announced that it was time to get the goat.  I had no idea what he was talking about, as we had not discussed a goat in any capacity.  We arrived home to find my best friend with an adolescent goat on our porch.  I was horrified.  He kept staring at me with his yellow goat eyes. 
"Hello, Iggus!" E said to the goat.  Crap.  He had already named him.  This was not a joke.  I didn't want to cause a scene in front of my best friend, who obviously had no idea that I was not a part of this decision.  I tried to keep it together, but all I kept thinking about was I know I grew up in the country, but I don't have any idea what to do with a goat!  I don't know what they are even supposed to eat!  I know they WILL eat anything, but that doesn't have anything to do with what they SHOULD eat.  Oh, great.  This goat is going to eat all my stuff.  Where do you even keep a goat?  I have no idea what to even do with him while I go get supplies!  I doubt my nylon dog leash is going to hold him for very long... He looks like the devil.  He is going to hurt my dog.  I can't trust him near my dog.  Why on earth would we ever want a goat?  Maybe I'll get lucky and some coyote will come eat him.  Well, that won't work, either.  I don't want coyotes anywhere near my dog, either.  At this point I was so stressed out I barely noticed that a raccoon was being thrown into the mix for no charge.  I needed some air.  I went outside and was soon followed by E.  He finally asked how I felt about the goat.  I swore a lot and yelled about all the things I was angry about.  I told him I absolutely hated it and did not want a goat.  When I was done, he asked if we could keep the goat.  I told him to do whatever he wanted.  So we got a goat named Iggus.
I am still mad at him.

CL

Step 1. Push buttons
Step 2. Bang on it
Step 3. Bang on it harder
Step 4. Unplug it
Step 5. Plug it back in
Step 6. Remove 'Cars' DVD
Step 7. Pull it out of its cubby  to inspect hookups
Step 8. Notice unusual sound
Step 9. Identify sound
Step 10. Turn DVD Player upside down
Step 11. Remove 'Madagascar 2' DVD
Step 12. Shake gently
Step 13. Repeat Steps 8-10
Step 14. Remove 'Meet the Robinsons' DVD
Step 15. Repeat Steps 12 and 13
Step 16. Remove random Christian comedy DVD that belongs to your parents that you thought you lost
Step 17. Ensure no more sounds occur when DVD Player is shaken
Step 18. Reinsert 'Cars' DVD
Step 19. Press play
Step 20. Write a blog entry

CL

So, it was a bit of a foggy morning here, to say the least.  I don't understand why that does not automatically mean "turn on your headlights" to some of the people on the road.  I mean, it was thick enough to conceal buildings.  I pulled into the Target parking lot beginning to wonder why the scene before me was so empty, only to watch the store suddenly rise out of the mist like Brigadoon.  If I can't see a giant concrete building with a big red sign, chances are I'm not going to see your gray Buick either, dude.  Do they not notice when they can't see another car who also has their headlights off?  Does that not make them think, "Gee, maybe I need to make sure mine are on!"?  This is one of the little things that really bothers me, along with unintentionally leaving your blinker on in a situation that causes me to be concerned that at any moment you may suddenly shift into my lane.
Moving on...
While waiting for my dental appointment today, Ladybug was looking at a book that had a cartoon skunk and raccoon on the cover.  She points and says, "Look, Mom!  A Stunk!"  I giggled, then said, "Yes, that is called a sKunk."  "Yeah, Mom!  A sTunk!"  Well, I guess it's a bit hard to argue with that one.

CL

I have spent the last few years watching in horror as more and more people I know started the terrifying practice of sinus irrigation.  I imagined them singing "I'm a Little Teapot" as they prepared their saltwater concoction: "♪Tip! me over and pour. me. outgrthphflpllbblthsgarfck!!!!!" I could not ever imagine being so sick that I would finally resort to drowning myself.
Then it happened.  I got sick enough to prefer drowning rather than exploding as my method of death.  I went to the store and let my girls help me pick one out.  I wanted them to choose so they might be more comfortable with trying it themselves.  We got home and I encouraged my daughters to watch.  I am the type of person who really hates to show weakness to others, so I figured I couldn't be a wimp about it if I had little eyes on me.  I bravely made my first attempt.  The strangest thing about it was that it didn't feel strange in the way that I expected.  Even when I made an error in proper head positioning, the bit that tried to go down my throat did not cause the sensation of eminent death that I expected.  And then I stood upright, blew my nose and... breathed!!  Through my nose!  For the first time in days!  This sort of instant gratification was enough to make me an addict the first time out of the gate.  No waiting for medicine to kick in or anything!  I couldn't wait to do it again at the first sign of returning stuffiness.
Baby Duck was a bit afraid and required lots of coaxing to even let me try to do a tiny practice drip.  I allowed her to say 'no' until she felt ready.  When we did the practice drip on each side and she wanted to be done, I let her.  I knew what a freaky thing it seemed to be.  Then, a funny thing happened.  I was on the phone when she picked up the NetiPot and proceeded to try it on her own.  She did it!  Having full control over the device and not having to rely on trusting me, she was brave enough to do the whole thing.  She was so proud of herself using what she called the 'watering can'.  "Look, Mom!  I'm Nose Gardening!"

CL

My new tattoo is a bit sore, but my mom actually seemed to be pretty impressed with it.  Maybe my daddy will even like it...

We have had three snow days in a row this week, which officially puts us into 'makeup days' territory.  But both my girls are sick, meaning Baby Duck would be missing her 100 Days Of School Celebration if classes had been held.  Also, I don't have to argue with them about it being too dangerously cold to go play out in the snow because they don't even want to move.

My dog looks at me like I'm sending her to the gallows when I open the door to send her outside to go to the bathroom, but once she's out there she plays in the snow long after she's done her business and has an absolute blast.

My house needs cleaning, but I've got nothin' but time today...


CL

Highlight of the day:  I woke up to a text that my cousin's baby had been born mere hours before induction was scheduled.  Hooray! 
Baby Duck came home early from school yesterday not feeling well.  I canceled the highlight I was supposed to do for Aunt Taffy (who has been battling the Sinus Infection from the Black Lagoon since 2010) to avoid exposing her to a single possible germ that could set her back in her quest for reasonably un-agitated sinuses.  This also meant that I had to cancel on a Mom's Night Out with my bestie, whom I know was in desperate need of some downtime.  By sunset I had discovered that it was a false alarm- nothing came of the illness and Baby Duck was a-okay.
Got the kiddos to bed and realized just in the nick of time that E needed a load of whites done if he was to have a clean undershirt in the morning.  It was the only load of laundry I had left to do!  So I got it going.
Flash forward to this morning.  Baby Duck chose the route of peaceful resistance upon waking; she simply ignored everything I said and sat on her bed looking at the clothes I had intended for her to put on.  When I did my vocal impression of a cattle prod, she switched modes:  she wanted everything done for her.  "Get me dressed.  Get my toothbrush." And so on.  That doesn't fly when I'm trying to get the garbage to the curb, the dog out to potty, the Ladybug some breakfast, and E on his horse.
This is where it falls apart.  I am four seconds from a mental breakdown when I hear the dryer door get opened.  Only then do I realize that my heroic attempt at rescuing my husband from a certain wardrobe malfunction had failed.  As I hear him go rummage in the hamper, I dash to the washing machine and see the evidence of my inadequacy.  There before me is a pristine load of whites, smelling faintly of bleach... sopping wet.  Doesn't do any good to wash the frakkin' whites if ya ain't gonna dry the suckers, now, does it?!?!  I am out of time.  I fling one white undershirt into the dryer and start it as I am desperately trying to herd my children into the car.  The verbal cattle prod has absolutely no effect at this point.  I actually have the physical sensation of falling down a deep hole.  E tried really hard not to make me feel bad, but there was nothing he could do to mask the magnitude of my ineptitude.  I am a housewife, for Pete's sake!  How is it that I can be bested by a single load of laundry?  Such a simple task!  My Achilles' Heel hath been discovered! 
I give up.  It's time for me to go ogle an adorable newborn.

CL

Actually, that has nothing to do with anything, except for the fact that yesterday at a salad bar the beets got my sister and I discussing the old Nickelodeon cartoon, "Doug".  If you have no idea what I am talking about, here is what we were referencing: www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7c3bQQmwVE.
E's flight home got diverted due to low visibility last night, causing him to not arrive home until sometime after 2:30 in the morning.  I heard the door; so did the dog.  I am pleased to report that the dog went nuts!  I have never heard such a vicious bark come from that sweet little thing!  As soon as I reassured her and called out to E to speak so she could hear his voice, she dissolved into tail-wagging excitement in her kennel.  She just seemed to never know a stranger, which made me think she wouldn't make much of a watchdog.  But she knew something wasn't right about the door being opened in the middle of the night.  She may be quite the protector after all.

CL