I’m feeling crabby.

1. I lovvvvvve Jeffery Deaver books, and have been on the hold list for the new one (Roadside Crosses) for a long time. Normally I’m full-on into a Jeffery Deaver book by about page 10, but this one is not grabbing me. I’m getting irritated by the theme, which is “OMG TEH INTERNETS ARE DANGEROUS OMG YOUR PRIVACY OMG SOMEONE COULD KILLLLLL YOUUUUUUUU!!!” but even more by the recurring evidence that the author is not in fact familiar with Teh Internets. He refers to a blog post as a “blog.” He refers to comments on a blog post as “blog posts.” He says that what makes a blog a blog are the hyperlinks. Wherp? It’s making me VERY IRRITABLE, because he keeps INTERRUPTING THE PLOT with a character saying something like, “Perhaps it would be useful if I explained the history of ‘weblogs’!” and then—if you can believe it—DOING SO. Plus, now I’m all skittish about saying anything about the book on the internet because OMG I COULD BE KILLLLLLLLLLED.

2. I bought a bunch of ice cream on a good sale at Target ($2.50 Breyer’s, plus I got a $5 gift card for buying 5, so that’s $1.50 a carton), and now it’s gone. And now I’m in the habit of eating ice cream every day, so I want want want it.

3. I love tuna. Every time I eat it, I worry about the mercury. I can almost feel the mercury…accumulating. Meanwhile, every famous person on earth is eating nothing but “lean meat and fish!” Oh yes? And what are you doing about the MERCURY POISONING? Or are you TOO THIN TO CARE?

4. I got behind on my celebrity magazines, and I’m trying to catch up. This means I have been reading Jon Kate Jon Kate Jon Kate lean meat Jon Kate fish Jon Kate, and seriously, is NOTHING ELSE of interest happening in the celebrity world? I like a little Jon & Kate as much as anyone (assuming we’re taking an average), but it’s been, like, eight cover stories so far.

5. The kids are taking swimming lessons. Elizabeth is screaming “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!” throughout each lesson. I don’t know how much I’m supposed to get involved. Like, are the teachers wishing I would STEP IN AND HELP for heaven’s sake, or are they hoping desperately that I’ll GO AWAY so they can TEACH?

6. Rob and William have a….rocky relationship. In other words, they are bickering the living spit out of each other EVERY FROG-BANNED DAY. And each of them feels motivated to tell ME about EACH BICKER, and then BICKER about the inaccuracies in what the other one tattled.

7. I’m so sick of making dinner.

8. Every time Georgie coughs, I wonder if it’s Time to Call the Vet.

9. I overpaid on a credit card ON PURPOSE, because it’s a credit card I use for small occasional purchases and I hate writing teensy checks. But then the credit card company sent me a letter saying they were refunding my extra “as you requested” (which I HAD NOT) and I just found the refund check stuck in the wrong compartment of the bill-paying thingie I use to organize bill-related things, and it has EXPIRED. So hey, THAT was a LOT less trouble than WRITING A TEENSY CHECK.

We need to have a talk, and I think it’s best to do these things fast, like ripping off a jewelry store. WHAT is the problem with Crisco? Every time I mention Crisco, there is recoiling of the kind I don’t get when I mention butter. Some of my brother’s friends ate three or four chocolate-chip cookies each, then asked for the recipe and discovered the Crisco. I swear they went pale. You could see their thoughts: “Would it be impolite to barf this up? Is etiquette a reason to risk my very life?”

Here are the nutrition labels from Crisco and from butter:

Crisco

butter

Crisco has 1 additional gram of fat per tablespoon, and so it also has an additional 10 calories per tablespoon. But only 3 grams of Crisco’s fat are saturated, compared to 7 grams of butter’s fat. Crisco has no cholesterol; butter has 30 mg per tablespoon (240 mg per stick). Crisco has no salt; butter has 90 mg per tablespoon (720 mg per stick). Crisco has monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats—those are the “good” ones, aren’t they? Crisco is made from vegetable fats; butter is made from animal fats. Neither has any trans fat.

So who has a fight to pick with Crisco?—or at least, a fight they don’t also have with butter? Is it that vegetable shortening gets confused with lard, since they look similar and are sold in similar-looking containers? Or is it something else?

I LOVE pulling over for emergency vehicles. I do it fast and early and as far over as I can get, and please stop snickering because none of that is funny. I think I like it because I WANT to be someone who is Good In Emergencies, but instead I’m someone who Freezes In Emergencies, and so I love these rare opportunities when my role is absolutely clear to me and I can execute it with ease. It gives me a taste of what it must be like to see a reflection in your martini glass of someone sneaking up behind you, and immediately spin around and knock him unconscious with one swift kick.

One of my Hot Buttons, driving-wise, is people who don’t pull over fast enough or early enough or far enough. Worst of all: people who irritably PULL AROUND ME when I pull over, revving off as if, given a choice between two theories: (1) this lady has pulled over for no apparent reason so I should look around to see if I can figure out what the reason IS and (2) this lady has pulled over for no apparent reason so obviously she is a FREAKING MORON, they go right to option 2 because DUH. Someone even HONKED at me once, before revving around. I hate that SO much, it…it…the…flames…flames…flames on the side of my face.

I also get steamed if, after the emergency vehicle goes by, someone uses it as an opportunity to pass all the suckers who pulled over. ERG!! If it were possible to MENTALLY pull out a gun and shoot out someone’s tires, I would probably cause additional emergencies because of doing so.

I know we’ve been over this and over this and over this, but it comes up fresh for me every time it happens and I feel the need to go over it yet again: I was in the store the other day with the kids, and a woman in line ahead of me told me that these were the best years of parenting and I should enjoy them.

When elderly ladies say that to me, I find it easier to let it roll off—though I did once get into a total fret when I was postpartum and TWO old ladies said it to me on one single outing, and I went home almost FRANTIC to Paul, grabbing his shirt and saying, “DO you think these are the best times?? DO you?? Because I am JUST BARELY HOLDING IT TOGETHER” and he thought it over and said, “I think these are the best times to remember,” which I think he’s exactly right about and now I translate it that way whenever an elderly lady seems to be telling me that it’s all downhill from here.

Where was I? Oh, yes. The woman in the store. She wasn’t old. She said she had teenagers, and I’d guess she was maybe ten years older than me. I’ve been in a funk over it for several days now, thinking it’s not bad enough, apparently, to be overwhelmed and counting hours and feeling like I’m trapped: I can also now look forward to a future of beating myself up for not enjoying it more.

Part of it was the timing: the children were so demanding and giddy and intolerable on that particular errand, I’d gone over to the luggage section and looked dreamily at the suitcases, fantasizing about buying a nice big set, big enough to last me SEVERAL WEEKS. I’d also fantasized about running the shopping cart “accidentally” into the butt of one or both of my older children to see if THAT would be as funny as BREATHING and WALKING seemed to be. So it was not a receptive moment for hearing that these were the glorious days I would one day long for.

Part of it was her age: as I said, I can handle this kind of thing more easily from someone very elderly. But someone who’s only ten years older than me? Surely she can still remember being my age and having children the ages of mine. Surely she can remember all the old ladies telling her to cherish every moment, and surely she can remember how she felt about that. So if SHE is telling me these are the best years, when she has the same information ringing still in her own ears—well, either it’s TRUE and it really is a steady downhill roll into the Swamps of Suckitude followed by death, or else I should have shoved her “accidentally” in the butt with my shopping cart.

Yeah. Just hanging out. Chilling on the windowsill. Diaper hat and my brother’s Leapster 2. You know. Your typical Sunday.

Do you remember the measuring spoons from this shopping post? I love them so. I’ve been looking and Looking and LOOKING for the matching measuring cups, and finally found them at HomeGoods (not a grocery store). So obv I cleared them out.

One set for me, one for my sister-in-law, and the rest for future Swistle Care Packages

I don’t think I can choose just one set to keep. Which set is your favorite? (Rob points out that if I want to, I can now make five single-color sets.)

They also had more measuring spoons, so I bought those too.

(This is for Whimsy’s blogdrought-remedying sprinkler system.)

1. Daisy Owl: “Cake”. And then I suggest clicking the link marked “first” (as opposed to “prev” or “rss” or “random”) and reading all of them from the beginning. Dinosaur atoms. Everywhere.

2. Dr. Maureen: “The Chicken Game: The Rules”. I love funny Q&A stuff like this, and also it is about the chickens. Plus: Dr. Maureen had a BABY yesterday! Yay, Dr. Maureen! Yay, baby!

3. The Mom Slant: “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming”. I love Julie’s calm, measured reasoning on all sorts of topics. I never feel like she’s trying to stir things up, even when she discusses hot stuff.

You guys, my friend Astarte (we went to high school together so I should probably get her to sign a confidentiality agreement regarding all the miniskirts and ill-advised patterned black stockings I used to wear) took a jewelry-making class and is making all kinds of pretty sparklies these days. She’s having a giveaway for one of her bracelets.

Now, back to the updates.

Baby Food Muffins. The ones I made with the old jars of carrot turned out well, but when I used some “tropical fruit blend” that nobody liked, the muffins came out edible but overly moist, and all the chocolate chips sank to the bottom. Some baby foods are probably made with more water than others, and also probably have less fiber for Muffin Structural Support.

Pens. Remember how I was all, “I don’t care how much they cost, I want GOOD PENS!” Then I went and stood in the pen aisle with my print-out of the comment section, and I bought nothing. Instead, I’m going to wait until those things start going on back-to-school sales, and buy several different kinds then.

Interfering Clerks. With time, I still feel good about my reaction. Sometimes in such situations I later curse my wimpiness, but in this case I didn’t. If it happened again, I would write a letter to the manager explaining what had happened.

Henry’s Birthday Presents. We got him half a dozen dinosaur shirts from various stores, the biggest haul being from Macy’s where I found FOUR. He loves them. Now if he’s not wearing a dinosaur shirt, he wants to know WHY. We also gave him a large softish plastic brachiosaurus from Target, which was a hit.

Snuggling his brachiosaurus

The Dolls. You realize they don’t LIVE in their unders on the sofa but were only there because I had just unpacked them from the bins? Yes. We don’t have enough spare seating in this house to use it for dolls. I got rid of nine of them (#s 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12), plus a big bin of doll clothes, giving them to a friend of my mom’s who brings dolls to places such as shelters. I found it too overwhelming to do the whole thing all at once, so I did a “first sweep” and got rid of the ones I was most sure I didn’t want anymore. It’s been several weeks, and now I think I’m going to get rid of the rest of the dolls, plus most of the clothes. I might keep ONE doll, because Elizabeth has a doll and we might want to play dolls together. I’ll also keep enough clothes for the two dolls.

Books. Short review of Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell: I liked it, but as usual with Gladwell’s books, it seemed like an article expanded to book-length: the basic idea is very interesting but doesn’t take long to communicate, and then the rest of the book is examples and restating.

Short review of the Duggars book: Bleah. I’d thought I’d be interested in the organizational stuff, but instead I was alternately bored and annoyed.

The other books went back to the library unread (though I got halfway through Certain Girls by Jennifer Weiner) because I ran out of renewals.

American Psycho. SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! I liked the whole book until the end, which was one of those “What do you think REALLY HAPPENED?” endings, which I HATE. I’m still kind of pissed whenever I think of it. If you read the book, what did YOU conclude? That he did all that stuff, or that he was delusional?

Georgie. Georgie is hanging in there. His coughing is more frequent, and his side-breathing is now evident even to me. Sometimes when he’s coughing I start panicking and I think I should take him to the vet THIS VERY DAY and end his suffering. But in between coughing fits, he seems happy and fluffy and comfy and young, and it seems ridiculous to be considering ENDING HIS LIFE over some COUGHING. It is hard to know what to do, and I’m encouraged by how many of you said that when it was Time, you Knew.

Heath Insurance. Our health insurance did change, but there was a happy surprise: our monthly contribution is indeed more than our mortgage payment, but the deductible I was so upset about doesn’t apply to regular stuff like office visits and prescriptions—it only kicks in with the more expensive stuff like hospital stays and medical equipment. THEY COULD HAVE SAID SO.

Cloth Napkins. Still going well, except that once I get on a Quest I have trouble Stopping, and so we have more cloth napkins than we can possibly use, and also enough napkin rings for a reunion of the extended Duggar family.

The Other Kind of Reusable Napkins. Can you believe I have NOT YET TRIED THEM? I bought a whole bunch and there they sit, unused. I WILL try them. I WILL. I just…haven’t yet. It’s a hurdle! And they’re so pretty, I don’t want to ruin them! …Except that if they get ruined, I get to choose more pretty designs…

I’m always, like, “Hey, let’s talk about this!” and then I get everyone’s input and I make my decision and I never mention it again because it’s not on my mind anymore. Let’s see which threads I’ve left loose.

The Scale. I ordered the one Jess recommended, the Newline Well Balance. It’s supposed to arrive tomorrow.

* * * * * * * *

The Toddler. I cannot even describe how scattered and distracted I continue to be. It’s not just Henry, who has added biting, smacking, and lashing-out-with-a-fork to his repertoire. I feel like I am the CENTER of a WHEEL, and ALL SPOKES LEAD TO ME. EVERYONE has to talk to ME, so each of THEM is having ONE conversation but I am having FIVE. It is NO WONDER my mind feels like a metaphor for something else.

* * * * * * * *

End-of-Year Teacher Gifts. I had the kids write their usual “What I remember about this school year” letters. I also contributed $5 to a collection taken up by the room mother for one teacher’s gift.

As always when I do these teacher gift posts, I am simultaneously so grateful for and so sorry for some of the input I get about teacher gifts from teachers. On one hand, I can imagine how frustrating the gifts can be, and I think it’s good to point out that if _I_ only like one in twenty fragrances at Bath & Body Works and find ALL the others BARFY, the odds of choosing a good one for a teacher are slim. I also think it’s good to remember that in general, it’s good to buy a gift for a teacher as if the teacher were a REAL PERSON, someone who would prefer Good Chocolate to Chocolate-Flavored Candy just like the rest of us would.

On the other hand, I am almost flattened with discouragement hearing about baked goods thrown directly into the trash, non-giftcards referred to as “useless junk” or “crap gifts,” and the term “even as little as $10” (as if $10 is a tuppence, merely a thought that counts) brought up ANYWHERE AT ALL. In fact, I find those comments lead me to this train of thought:

1. It really is unfortunate that teachers get so much stuff they don’t want/need.

2. It’s too bad the gifts can’t be merely Representative Tokens of Appreciation (the way Teacher Appreciation Week is representative of the entire year), and that the teachers can’t compensated in some OTHER way for the work that they do, perhaps by their EMPLOYERS, perhaps with CURRENCY so that they could buy what they DO want/need.

3. OH WAIT.

So here’s what I’m doing:

* $10 or $15 Target giftcards (one per classroom teacher—nothing for assistant teachers, art teachers, music teachers, gym teachers, computer teachers, secretaries, directors, principals, assistant principals, student teachers, room mothers, cleaning staff, cafeteria workers, lawn maintenance team, head of the PTA, because OH MY BEEZUS THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS) at Winter Holiday

* a letter from the child at end-of-year, telling the teacher all the things they remember/liked during the school year

* a Target giftcard for the bus driver: $10 per child of mine riding her bus

* throughout the year, contributing disinfecting wipes, boxes of tissues, baked goods (I hope they’re not thrown away when they’re specifically requested), paper towels, hand soap, disinfecting hand gel, Box Tops for Education, and anything else the teacher or PTA requests during the year for the school and for school events

* * * * * * * *

Well, now I’m all distracted by teacher gifts and am no longer in the mood to discuss pens, or clerks who think it’s okay to reprimand my child, or the recent failures of muffin recipes using baby food. Hee! It is the downside of reheating leftover topics!

Edit 06-23-2009: I think MOST teachers are NOT icky about teacher gifts and that it’s just a vocal minority that says those mean things that get me all anxious. I kind of wish I hadn’t posted my little rant, because I think my attack on the vocal minority comes out sounding like an attack on All Teachers. Plus, it’s the kind of post that makes people nervous because it makes indirect references: SOMEONE is in trouble, but WHO?? (And yet I don’t have anyone in particular in mind, and can’t remember who posted which comments, and just sort of came up with representative TYPES of comments from all previous teacher-gift-related posts.) Considering how much I hate such posts myself, I don’t know why I succumbed to my pique.

In our life together so far, Paul and I have owned six scales. We haven’t liked a single one of them, and also they start wonking out after a year or two.

Our current scale has been working for me but not for Paul. I admit it’s given me a few strange readouts, but then it always gave a better answer the second try, and I don’t think stepping off and stepping on again is such a huge inconvenience. Also, I admit I’ve seen it doing its “calculating….calculating….calculating…” thing when no one was standing on it, but big deal. It’s only a LITTLE like a machine is coming to life and watching us while we’re vulnerable and unsuspecting.

So I wasn’t ready to pull the plug. Scales are hard to choose, and boring to spend money on. I sometimes think scales are a Bad Idea anyway. But just now Paul made an exasperated sound from the bathroom and then announced: “That’s it. We need a new scale.” His claim: the scale is not working. I wanted to ask if “not working” meant “telling him he weighs more than he thinks he weighs,” but before I could weigh (heh) the advisability of this possible line of inquiry he added that the scale is now literally non-functioning. My suggestion that the scale needed a new battery was met with a snort, and with the declaration that he didn’t care if it DID need a new battery, it wasn’t getting one, because it was a dumb scale to begin with. (I hope it didn’t hear him say that.)

So scale-questing it is. Here is the thing: I don’t want to have to do this again anytime soon, so what I’m most looking for is DURABILITY and NON WONKING OUT. Perfect accuracy is not important to me, as long as it gives me the general idea for those kid medications where I have to weigh the child to determine the dosage.

But PAUL wants perfect accuracy, and in fact he would like it to measure to the TENTH OF A POUND, which I think is stupid since drinking an 8-ounce cup of water changes a person’s weight by FIVE tenths of a pound.

And so we need The Perfect Scale. It must be:

• reliable
• non-wonking
• inexpensive
• fun to buy
• accurate to a tenth of a pound
• non-sentient/plotting

Other helpful info: a scale you have that you hate, so we won’t buy it.