First: A friend of mine posted her response to those who ask, “Why adopt kids from other countries when there are so many right here in the US who need homes?” Her response is spot on. Even if you don’t believe in God, I think you will agree with everything else she says. Go Val!
Second: When your child doesn’t talk much it is more difficult to get a sense of who they really are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you can’t know who your child is, what kind of personality he or she has. I’m just saying some of the finer points are a bit fuzzy. Some of those finer points are gaining clarity as Quinn is speaking more and more. Yesterday when A~ helped him get of the potty* but before she could help him get his pants back on, he stuck his little boy bits out in her general direction and said, “I pee on you! I pee on you!” Tonight at supper he spent most of the time pretending to steal, eat, vomit back up, and return his brother’s nose. Finer point: he is all boy, and boys are gross.
Third: The sperm donor** is now on the internet. McH finally got around to telling him we moved (via email) and he responded (does this mean we aren’t dead now?). Maybe I should worry that he might somehow find my blog and discover that I call him the sperm donor. Instead? I’m completely dumbfounded by the fact that this man has a Twitter account. Firstly? The man can’t say anything in less than a 140 very monotone, very boring paragraphs. Secondly, he is about the most anti-social person I’ve ever met, so a social network? Really?? I checked out his Twitter account, or feed, or whatever you call it (really? I get Facebook, but Twitter? Not so much). All he does is tweet policy suggestions to the President, who he loves, and get-a-clue-you-idiot messages to Sarah Palin, who he hates, along with a smattering of suggestions to Bill Maher. He thinks they are actually reading it.
Fourth: Do you all remember Michelle from And Sam Makes Seven? She’s back! She’s back! Yay!!!!!
Fifth: My parents were looking for something to get McH for Christmas, and today? They ordered him this:
You see, he adamantly does not want a snow blower. I adamantly do not want him to need more back surgery. This Snow Wovel, I hope, is the perfect compromise. I watched a video of a guy shoveling snow with it, and it looks EASY. Plus? It is way cheaper than a snow blower. And? It is green! Okay, we all know I’m not a big tree hugger or anything, but if inflation goes out of control and things get really bad like some people are predicting? This bad boy will make living in Canada South easier without requiring us to buy liquid gold. So we’re going to see how it works, and if it’s as great as it seems we’ll probably order another one. Then, if the kids feel so motivated (and ever get tall enough) they can push their Snow Wovels around the neighborhood and maybe make a buck or two (or, you know, 25 cents if the economy really tanks more).
Sixth: I have spent part of this evening trying to hammer out a guest list for a Christmas party that we want to have a week from the day-after-tomorrow. I know, nothing like waiting until the last minute to invite people over on the last Saturday before Christmas. Anyway . . . People! This is hard. We just can’t possibly invite everybody from church; yet our congregation is pretty close knit, so inviting several of them but not all of them is . . . tricky. Plus, McH wants to invite people from work. As of right now, our pared-down prospective guest list is 60+ people. Crazy! There is no way we could possibly have 60 adults in our house at one time. Not all on the same level, anyway. So I am vacillating between “Cut the list! Cut the list!” and, “This is all so last minute that probably only four of them will be able to come anyway, so we might as well invite EVERYONE.” I’m at the point where I’d be happy to just scrap the whole thing and, in exchange, vow to start planning next year’s Christmas party in October; but my husband really wants to have this party. So strange, this is. So very, very strange. Umm . . . help!
Tewt the Newt thinks perhaps it is time for some rice nog with artificial rum flavoring.
*Quinn can get himself on the potty with no help. He can also get himself off with no help, but he refuses. He insists that someone come in and help him clean up, even if there is nothing to clean up, and help him get his pants back on.