I just finished watching the movie P.S., which by the way has me thinking about Topher Grace in a WHOLE NEW WAY, since my previous acquaintanceship with him was limited to That ’70s Show, where he was…well, ’70s clothes and hair can take ANY guy and kick him squarely out of the Romantic Lead Zone.

Where was I? Oh, yes! So I was watching P.S., and there’s a scene where the 39-year-old main character goes back to her childhood bedroom to retrieve some old stuff. And the room is, like, just exactly as she left it. Her high-school clothes still hanging in the closet! Her shoes still on the floor! Her posters still on her wall! Her stuff still messy on her desk! Her boxes of memorabilia still stacked precariously on closet shelves!

My old childhood bedroom is at the other end of the spectrum: when I went to college, I cleared it out as if my parents were going to be leasing it to a new tenant. I left behind two large boxes of things I didn’t want to get rid of but couldn’t really bring to college, either, such as books and my prom dress (did I think I was going to need that again some day? I tossed it out a few years later). Those, I put in the closet. Everything else was GONE. CLEARED OUT. Walls bare. Desk drawers empty. I MOVED OUT at that point, or that’s the way I saw it. I still came back for Christmases and a couple of summers, and I liked to stay in my old room when I did, but it wasn’t really my room.

My parents apparently got some flack about this from their friends, which was unfair because I don’t remember it being THEIR idea that I strip the room like that. I remember just assuming that that’s what the next step was, and doing it, and then showing it to my parents after it was done: here’s the heap I’m taking to college, here’s the suitcase for the drive to get there, here are the boxes I’ve shoved way back in the closet, and here are the trash bags full of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers that were under the bed.

Now, in my mid-thirties, my room has been not-my-room for so long, I kind of forget it ever WAS my room. Right now it’s a playroom, with toys in it for when my kids play over there. I don’t think of it as My Old Room, I think of it as The Playroom. It’s a different color (yellow instead of white-with-magazine-pages) and the floor is different (hardwood and throw rugs instead of the schoolroom tile I was supposed to mop and rarely did). The only lingering trace of my old room is the rainbow glitter hairspray I unwisely sprayed on a corner of my closet door.

I am not sure how offensive a middle finger is. Like, is it an “adult content, not safe for work, don’t click if you’d be offended”-level thing? Or is it like saying, “That sucks!” or “I’m pissed!” or “Screw that!” where our parents wince but the rest of us forget that anyone winces? Well, just in case, I’ll give you the heads-up that this post is on that subject and may contain images.

I am intrigued by this guy’s idea. He says that if you’re married and you’re pissed off about Proposition 8 (which bans gay marriage in California), you should switch your wedding ring to your middle finger and take a photo of it.

I tried taking a photo like his, and I looked like a HUGE IDIOT. If you clicked through, you’ll have seen that he looks pretty awesome: he looks cool and friendly but definitely he’s got a strong stance, and he looks like he feels comfortable using his middle finger to express that stance, and also his wedding ring is really cool.

But when I tried it, I managed to give the impression that I was NOT giving the finger but in fact just happened to have my middle finger separate from the others, and also like I didn’t realize I was wearing my wedding ring on the wrong finger and too high up. Also, I LOOKED the way older people SOUND when they try to use teenaged slang words.

And since I was trying to take a photo of MYSELF, in some versions I missed my hand entirely. In others, my hand was blocking my face. But in ALL of them, I looked like an aging mother who was trying to be all gangsta or something. And also, I looked like I was pointing at something, perhaps at the last wisps of my evaporating youth and coolness. Pitiful.

PLUS, I was painfully aware of how displeased my parents (who read this blog) would be to see their daughter giving the finger, and also I’m wary of cheesing off the friends and family who would take the opposite stance on this issue. In general, I don’t want to go around telling you what to think/do (unless it’s about COOL BABY CLOTHES you should DEFINITELY BUY), because I think everybody should think/do their own thing and not screw around with what other people think/do. But in this case, what’s happening IS that people are telling other people what to think/do, and THAT’S what I’m objecting to.

So, hey, Prop 8! Yoo hoo! Over here!

P.S. If you do this, too, be sure to go over to Diary of a Modern Matriarch and add your name and link to her list.

Edit: I want to say for the record that I realize the way I expressed my feelings on this subject was highly disrespectful. I would be just as disrespectful about a decision to, for example, ban black citizens from voting in elections, or invalidate heterosexual marriages, or make it illegal to worship God.

Yesterday the kids spent about six hours playing with an office chair and three empty rolls of tape. What’s next, playing with the box the toy came in? Sometimes I think children have turned my life into an embarrassing cliche.

Look at this cute shirt I bought:

Rob saw it and said scornfully, “It looks like a SPORTS shirt.” But do you see what it says? “Junior Scientists of America.” And those are, like, atoms zooming around the A. Hee! I bought it in 12-18m (or did I get 18-24m?) (like it matters) for Henry and in 4T for Edward.

I’m a little peeved, though, to see they are now $3.99, since that was what I paid for them AFTER a 15% off coupon, and I was feeling all triumphant about it. I’ve noticed with Old Navy that either there is a 15%/20%-off coupon, OR everything is 15-20% off. Well-played, Old Navy. Well-played. Now perhaps I will also have to buy the grey “mathletes” version:

“Cuter than the sum of our parts,” it says.

This morning William said, “I saw a band-AID in the trash.” And I went, “Mm.” And he said, “I said ‘AID’ like that because of my spelling words”—which are all words with AI in them. So I praised him for being smart, and then told him his shirt was on backwards.

You definitely want to come over: I baked pumpkin chocolate-chip muffins, and I’ve got a pot of coffee brewed.

Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Muffins
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, melted
1 cup canned pumpkin
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 and 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 12 muffin cups with muffin papers.

Mix the melted butter, pumpkin, brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla in one bowl. Mix the flour, salt, baking powder, cinnamon, and chocolate chips in another bowl. Combine the two bowls and mix just until you don’t see powder anymore. Scoop into muffin cups and bake 25-30 minutes.

And please do keep sending them to me! It is fun to see the ripples going ever outward! And, er, sometimes back inward!

Ya Ya’s Mom is showing the giftie she got and starting a new contest.

Secret Mom Thoughts is showing the giftie she got and starting a new contest.

Midwest Mom is showing the giftie she got and starting a new contest.

The Q Collective is starting a new contest.

• I’m about to go to Target. It is really fun to have older kids and younger kids at the same time. I love when the baby talks to Rob and Rob answers so kindly. Henry says “AH-LO!!” (hello) and Rob says, “Hello, Henry!” in the same “you sweetie!” voice we grown-ups use. Or just now, I heard a crash and a baby starting to fuss, and I heard Rob saying in that same grown-up voice, “Oh NO! Are you o-KAY? There! You’re okay!”

• I stupidly sent my sister-in-law and brother, who are expecting MY NIECE in February, a snarky article about baby names. I didn’t read it very carefully; I was just like, “Oh, this is about baby names, it is relevant to them!” But it was so snarky! And it turns out that about 80% of the snarking was in the direction of names actually on their lists! And not only that, in the direction of names I would LOVE to have on a niece! So now if I don’t get a niece named Ruby, Flannery, or Matilda, it is totally my own fault!

• I’m so glad Halloween is over. I’m kind of a BIG CHICKEN, and I get scared/startled by Halloween merchandise. In our neighborhood there’s a huge fake spiderweb with a fake PERSON caught in it, with the person’s head…removed by the spider. And it is FREAKING ME OUT. I want to see CHRISTMAS decorations now, please!! Nice happy snowmen and jolly Santas, is what I’m thinking! No more killer spiders!

• I am SUCKING DOWN the coffee this morning. I’m getting a cold, and I need the artificial energy. Plus, I want more of the Italian Sweet Cream creamer, which I love.

• I wish I could format this with a space between each bullet point. This whole big solid block of text is FREAKING ME OUT. [Edit: My dad told me how to do this! Enjoy the pretty spaces!]

So yesterday I was all “If you’re frazzled and you know it clap your hands (clap clap),” because I had SO MUCH TO DO. One of the many problems of having a houseguest for TWO WEEKS is that things get behind. Especially if the houseguest is a mentally-draining one who leaves the hostess feeling as if making it through the day with everyone still alive is all anyone can ask of her.

After she left I was all “I need to RECUPERATE” and so I continued to not do stuff. And yesterday it all seemed to wallop me at once. I mean, you should have SEEN the laundry. Astonishing. And bills needed paying, which always stresses me out, and there were dishes in the sink but also a full clean dry drying rack of dishes, and the trash was overflowing, and WHEEEEEEE.

What I thought was that coffee would help. I was feeling tired because of staying up too late the night before, and I was feeling discouraged because of all the yucky tasks ahead of me, and sometimes caffeine can be just the thing for tired and discouraged. Unfortunately there was a little backfire and all I did was add jangled and queasy to the list.

Well, I got the important bills paid, and I took out the trash, and I put a new package of diapers in the thingie, and I did three or four loads of laundry (and please ignore the load of clean laundry sitting in the hallway), and I also managed to check one million times to see if any of my postcards had arrived yet. No. They hadn’t. Where ARE they? I have one traveling in the U.S. that has been traveling EIGHT DAYS. It’s making me antsy. That one’s not too bad because it would only cost me 27 cents to re-send it, except that I had a special postcard that was PERFECT for my assigned person, and so that would be (1) irreplaceable, and (2) a bummer. Worse is the one that’s been on its way to Germany for 28 days. That one is almost certainly lost, and PIFFLE CRAW that’s upsetting. It happens, of course it happens. What’s amazing, really, is that so many of these get THROUGH. I mean, I’m sending a 4×6 flat piece of paper to, like, TAIWAN, and it just ARRIVES there over sea over dell as if by magic. So I suppose that a postcard slipping away here and there is unsurprising.

Edit: Okay, FREAKY: AS I WAS TELLING YOU about the 28-day postcard to Germany, it arrived in Germany.

My brother and my sister-in-law are here for a short visit, and I got to see my sister-in-law’s tum. My NIECE is in there! I was in the same room as my niece! Oh, and I suppose it’s “their daughter,” too, whatevs.

It was so exciting. I was sort of struck with awe about it. There is a BABY in there, and it is a new member of our family! My sister-in-law said, “She’s been kicking,” and I was, like, SHE! She she she! Because she is a PERSON! A person who is a SHE! She’ll be a REAL PERSON, and I’ll probably know her my WHOLE LIFE! And yet right now we don’t even know her NAME or what she’ll LOOK like!

Babies are so neat.

P.S. Work It, Mom!, the site where Linda and I do our column Milk and Cookies, has a new section called Problem Solved: various writers answering common reader questions. I have one posted today about cheap skincare, but there are also posts up about homeschooling, low-carb lunches, reducing morning chaos, weight loss tips, etc. It’s not a niece, but it’s a pretty neat new baby anyway.

Today at Target I bought a “Christmas Tree Grow Kit” in the dollar section. It is the wee-est, cutest thing ever: a teensy little green pot about 2 inches tall, and a chunk of soil, and six little spruce tree seeds. For one dollar!

It is almost worth the whole dollar just to see the soil expand. It’s a lightweight chunk about the size of a stack of four quarters, and you look at it and think, “Uhhhhh….this is a wee little pot, but it’s not THAT wee.” Then you add a little water (1/6th cup, which took me awhile to figure out but is 2 and 2/3rds tablespoons), and the soil just GROWS. It’s a little gross to watch, even.

And then there IS enough soil to fill the wee little pot, and you scoop it in there and press in the six seeds, and you put the pot on a sunny windowsill and you wait. Good thing I bought it with lots of time before Christmas!

So! Here we all are again! What will we talk about? I want to CHAT but I have nothing in particular to talk about except the last couple of weeks of mother-in-law visit, and let’s not talk about that.

Oh! I know! Do you want to hear about the tick I removed from my cat? Okay! Well, Elizabeth said there was something on the cat, and I went to look and it was this weird shiny grey smooth dangling POD-LIKE thing, about the size of a popcorn kernel. I couldn’t imagine what it could be. It was too big to be a skin tag, and so I thought maybe tick—but it was totally smooth. No LEGS. I’d thought there’d be visible bug parts if it were a tick.

Well, so I went online, because that is what I do. And it did seem like it was probably a tick. I looked on several sites, and the instructions seemed pretty consistent. I took a little of this and a little of that to come up with My Plan:

1. Don’t try to burn the tick off or smother it with vaseline. Those are apparently really bad ideas.
2. Get a disposable cup and put half an inch of rubbing alcohol in it. Put a Q-tip and a tweezers in the cup. (You’re sterilizing the tweezers and getting the Q-tip’s tip wet for use later in the process.)
3. Locate the cat. Open a can of tuna if necessary.
4. Kneel around the cat so the cat is as immobilized as possible, with the tick centered in your cat-view.
5. Take a breath to stabilize yourself, because this is going to be icky but you can’t let yourself get icked: working quickly and decisively is in everyone’s best interests here. You need to get that tick before either the tick or the cat realizes what’s going on.
6. Take the tweezers, grip the tick as close to the cat’s skin as you can get, and YANK. Pull straight out, don’t twist. Just POP that thing off, and then drop it into the cup of rubbing alcohol.
7. Take the Q-tip out of the rubbing alcohol and rub it around on the cat’s skin where the tick was.
8. Release the poor cat. Maybe bring out that tuna.
9. WASH YOUR HANDS. Ticks are diseased and gross.
10. Wait ten or fifteen minutes, then flush the tick down the toilet and throw out the cup, and wash your hands again.
11. The next time you see the cat, check the owie. It’ll look kind of icky. It’s normal for it to be red, bleeding, or welty. Apparently it’s okay if (WARNING, WARNING, IMMINANT GROSSNESS ALERT!) the tick’s head remained under the cat’s skin; that will work itself out. (BARF.)
12. You can put a little dab of ointment on the owie if you want to. I mixed some antibiotic ointment with some hydrocortisone ointment.
13. Keep checking the owie regularly for several weeks. Call the vet if the owie gets worse or if it fails to get better, or if the cat seems sick.

There! Now you know!