Ahhhh...

The first crocus of spring:
Thank goodness. It's been a long winter.

Not So Much TGIF as Thank God I Survived the Week

Things That Made This Morning Suck - in crescendoing order:

1. Having the stomach flu.

2. Crappy night's sleep, in which I thought a serial killer was tapping on the window because a creepy dude selling meat out of his truck came to my door yesterday.

3. Finally waking up from said crappy night to discover that the tapping sound was actually freezing rain hitting the window. Toss-up as to whether or not this was any improvement over the serial killer.

4. Making Daddy Shortbread's coffee while having stomach flu because I was grateful he was taking the girls to school for me. He was in the shower, and I wanted to do something nice for him. However, coffee (normally my life's blood) smells like retch to me when I'm sick.

5. Cue the cat. Who retches. On the carpet, of course.

6. Clean up cat retch and try to hold my breath and avert eyes. Difficult to effectively clean this way. Succumb to dry heaves.

Bear (a.ka. World's Most Sensitive Person to All Things Vomit-Related): Moooom, can you stop doing that? You're grossing me out, and I'm trying to eat!

Me (in the manner of Bill the Cat): I'm - ack- not- oop, ACK - trying to!

7. Hear large splashing sound and "oops" from Bug, who was in the kitchen. Pull self together to investigate. Notice enormous family-size jug of juice has fallen out of the fridge and come open because Certain People (*cough* Bear *cough*) like to just slap the lid on without actually screwing it on. Lake Cranberry-Pomegranate is spreading like a tsunami across the linoleum. Consider crying. Clean it up instead.

***************************************************************
On the extreme upside of stomach flu, my week's diet of tea and toast seems to have had the anticipated result of Bonus Weight Loss! Suck on THAT, Dr. Atkins.

Oh Yeah, That's Why I Keep Them

I've been under the weather, gastrointestinally speaking, the last few days. This evening after my shower, I walked into my bedroom to find Bug's stuffed giraffe (Dr. David), fully dressed in his surgical scrubs, lying on my bed. Beside him was a note:

Dear Mom,
I hope you feel better.
Love,
Bug

Now come on, you've got to admit... that's seriously freaking adorable.

Attention Telemarketers

I have instructed my children to tell you that yes, their mother is home, but unfortunately she only speaks the African clicking language. If you still insist on talking to me, I will get on the phone and click at you until you hang up.

Irritating the Local Wildlife

This weekend we continued the prepping of the Formerly Glitter Popcorn Ceiling (soon to be the Yummy Smooth White Ceiling). We scraped, sponged, vacuumed, and stain-sealed in mind-numbing rotation. It was the very definition of thankless.

While I was "taking a break from working" (i.e., looking for an excuse to stand around and do nothing for awhile), I decided to photograph the action at the birdfeeder. We've had a lot more birdsong around here in the mornings, and the feeders have been hopping as spring approaches.

Chickadees have always been one of my favorite feeder visitors. They're just so darn teeny and cute. Maisy the cat also seems to have a fondness for them, but I think it's less about the cute and more about the crunchy. Lucky for them, she's an indoor cat.
I think this little dude just noticed me. He's giving me the beady eyeball.

"Nothing to see here. Nothing. To. See. Just looking at my little birdie toes. Move along, please."

"Why are you still here?"

Yep, he's onto me.

Look at him getting all ruffled and badass with his itty-bitty self."You. Woman. With the enormous black plastic thing attached to your eye. Don't you have work to do?"

Isn't he just precious when he's pissed off?Oh, look how cute! Now he's giving me the little birdie cold shoulder. Or is it cold wing? I have no idea what's PC in this situation.
"You are dead to me. But please continue to fill the cylinder with seed."

My work here is done. Back to the ceiling.

Standardized Testing: As Much Fun As You Remember

For the past two weeks, my kids have been having standardized testing at school. TWO WEEKS of standardized tests. Why not just pull their toenails off with pliers and be done with it?

At Bug's second trimester conference this week, her third grade teacher handed Daddy Shortbread and I a sheet of paper with gaily colored apples, crayons, and school buses around the margin.

"I had the students write a letter to their parents about their experience taking the MEA test," she told us, "This is Bug's."

Dear Mom & Dad,
MEAs are soooooo not fun! Did you do them when you were in school? Probably not. I have to admit, the math section was easiest but both sections were pretty easy. Even though it's not as bad as Bear told me it would be, it isn't something to look forward to. The thing that really stinks is that we only get a calculator when we don't really need it and when we do need it, they aren't allowed.
-Bug

She also shared with us a small piece Bug had written about trying to play ball with our cat but failing because the ball kept getting lost in Maisy's stomach fat.

Also an essay Bug wrote on My Favorite Toy, which described a game on her Nintendo DS in excruciating, three page detail. (Of course my kid had to pick a video game as her favorite toy, making me look like the Worst Mother Ever). I weakly mentioned that she doesn't play many video games once the weather turns nicer, but the teacher just smiled blandly at me, probably having heard that from hundreds of parents. (She doesn't! I swear!)

I guess I'd better step up my game around here, lest a certain short, judgmental writer decide to "share" anymore at school. Yikes.