Hot chocolate hour.

We finally got our snow!!!

The kids and I have been keeping an eye out for it for weeks, months even. When everyone else got a huge storm at Halloween and all we got was stuck inside because none of the trains were running, we were furious. Ever since then the question has been "Where's our snow?" And I asked them all the time. Every day that it was cold but not worth it I would interrogate R about where she was hiding our snow.

And then it came.

Not a lot, and not good enough to make a snowman or the igloo I have been dreaming of for two years now (why is winter so lame anymore?!) but still enough to have fun. Enough to make it worth layering three shirts and two pairs of pants and four pairs of socks on myself and each child and heading outside.

Yesterday morning T came out with us and we put the baby in a girl's snowsuit and giant mittens and dragged him out too. He wanted to be out there but he spent the entire time yelling "OPEN!" because he wanted his mittens off.

It was so bitter cold that after a few snow angels and a snow pile we had to go inside. The kids handled it pretty well with the promise of hot chocolate. I had to pull T's boots off because her belly suddenly popped out this week and she can't bend and pull at the same time. It's one or the other.

While I was pulling and she was holding onto the chair to avoid being dragged out of it and we were both laughing she said, "Wait til E finds out I shoveled everything! You're gonna be in trouble!" She shoveled everything before anyone else got outside, not that I would have done it anyway. But it was a light and fluffy snow so she hadn't actually exerted herself. And if E was so concerned, he should have gotten out of bed.

But it was his birthday, so he didn't until nearly noon.

We spent the day drinking hot chocolate and coffee and eating fruit and homemade things like home fries and eggs and stuffed crust pizza and soup. It was Carb Day in this house and J had a muffin and rice for lunch. Poor Willie Nelson got so sick of his only table scraps being bread and Cheerios that he avoided us all for the rest of the day.

He had really made out on Friday when we hosted Shabbat and E's sister kept sneaking him food. She has such a soft spot for him and kept asking me what she could give him. As a result he followed her around then entire night, eating carrots (his favorite) and tortilla chips. When she tried to give him chocolate cake I had to lay down the law.

But that cake was amazing. Just so you know.

By Saturday evening the kids were tuckered. They hardly slept Friday night, since our company didn't leave until 11. E and T went out for dinner and I tossed all the tots into bed early. As I was tucking J in he asked me why I didn't sleep with him anymore and I said it was because he's been eating so well and now he's a big boy. He smiled so big and said, "Kimmy, I love you" and then rolled right over and went to sleep.

This morning was more of the same, but since it's my Sabbath I didn't even clean up the kitchen. E and T had to run out for an open house this morning so I fed the kids and we headed back outside.

In his little girl's suit and his long hair Monkey looks just like a girl. The girl version of Randy, from A Christmas Story, to be exact. He can move his arms, but just barely and he can't pick anything up with his big, clumsy mittens. He just walks behind everyone else, falling repeatedly and getting all covered in snow. Yesterday he face-planted and when he stood up he looked like he might kill someone. Today he was a little more careful to keep his head up when falling, but still, when I pulled out the camera and told him to say cheese he shot daggers at me with his eyes, gritted his teeth and grumbled, "Cheese" just once before turning his back on me.

I almost died laughing.

R got a sand shovel and cleared a few places in the vicinity of Willie's favorite dumping ground. We let him come out and he did his business, not in the designated area and then ran back inside. Willie hates the snow. He hates the cold and he hates when we tell him to go on the grass, like we usually do, but now he can't find it.

He also hates how EVERY time we let him out we forget about him.

But he's learning to knock on the door and wait like everyone else.

Yesterday after E finally got out of bed he and T took J and went for a scenic drive.

I was hanging out with R while the baby napped when Willie needed to go out. I actually didn't forget him that time and was all proud of myself because I wouldn't have to get up twice, when the doorbell rang.

I flew to it, cursing whoever was at it and hissing at the dog to shut up before the noise woke the baby. At the door stood a Latino man, blowing cigarette smoke into my face and the house and asking me if he could shovel our property.

I told him no as nicely as I could manage through my irritation, which wasn't his fault since my "don't ring the bell" sign hasn't been posted for a few months now. Willie calmed himself back down and went to sleep in some far corner of the house again, which is where is his now as I write.

I am hanging out with J in the basement while R is at a dance class and the baby is asleep. After our foray into the snow this morning we came in to discover we are out of milk for real hot chocolate. I made them some instant and disguised lunch as a snack, sneaking leftovers onto the table while they talked and played and consumed.

When everyone was satisfactorily full we had a massive dance party while R got dressed for dance. She was under the impression that she was attending a party, since she adamantly refuses to join any kind of class, ever, at all. We were playing a hug trick on her, to get in tights and a skirt, to get her in shoes good for dancing. But it worked and she went and I haven't had any phone calls from her aunt who picked her up that she is freaking out about the truth of her destination.

That punk is probably enjoying herself.

And I am enjoying myself, snuggled into three sweatshirts in this chilly basement while J drives every toy car he owns around on the rug and we await the arrival of his friend for a play date.

I think I'll have another cup of hot chocolate coffee.

Horse fence.

Today I put my phone down for twenty whole minutes!

I finally synced my iTunes to my new baby and so all day long while I am working I carry it around with me and sing Reba McEntire songs at the top of my lungs while the baby trails me, dancing.

He really likes "I'd rather ride around with you" and he yells "Again! Again!" each time it ends.

I cleaned everything today because we are hosting Shabbat tomorrow as Saturday is E's birthday. I found out that he is 18 years older than me so someone can do the math on that and get back to me. T just turned a mid-thirties number but a lady never tells her age to I won't go and spoil it for her. And just so you know, I am only 19.

Well, in this blog anyway.

It occurred to me today that I haven't shared just exactly what a normal day around here looks like in a while. Things change gradually and then one day it just dawns on us that it's different.

For instance, Monkey no longer allows himself to be closely watched. He's very sneaky, very naughty and he thinks this is all very funny. Every now and then you can find him perched on the glass coffee table, snickering. Or standing on the closed toilet lid, holding his breath in anticipation of getting caught.

It really keeps us all on our toes.

But a normal day now consists of a much later nap for him, which means a much later nap for me. The kids come back from school at different times and so I have alone time with R each day. On Mondays and Thursdays while she is in Hebrew school I have some quiet time with J and of course, Monkey hogs me all morning, every morning.

It's been really cool to see each child growing in the last six months. This is the first time I have lived with a family and been an intimate part of the family's development.

I now call the kids to dinner and on most nights they come to the table and sit down and eat. We tell stories and talk while we eat and now that E's office is local and T is reaching the LARGE stages of pregnancy, they are often home for dinner and the six of us crowd in around the tiny, stupid kitchen table.

Bed time is no longer a fight.

The kids clean up their toys when asked, although I rarely ask because it is just so much easier to do it myself while they are not home.

R dresses without screaming fits. Again, most days. Of course we have bad days too but you may recall that when I started here every day was a bad day. (This blog was born out of a need to survive or to at least tell my story if Long Island killed me)

Tonight I made pesto and chicken, a dish the kids had never tasted or seen and they ate it, even J, the picky eater. He said he didn't like it once, I told him that was not allowed and he climbed up into his chair and ate every bite. He even finished first.

I'm not tooting my own horn, just marveling at how far we've come.

In 6 months.

This afternoon's normalcy was interrupted by a fencer.

E and T put a deposit on a fence LAST YEAR when they moved into the house. They received a call back YESTERDAY and were informed that a team would be arriving at the house at noon today.

At 11:45 the doorbell rang, while I was in the middle of feeding the baby lunch.

T had planned on being home for this, but she wasn't yet because he was early and she was running late (not an uncommon occurrence although she admits it and plans for it) so it was up to me to go show the man the property line that the fence would follow.

The trouble was I had no idea where it was and I was wearing slippers.

Still, I grabbed a coat and went outside and with T on the phone I tried to follow her directions. It felt like a treasure hunt.

"Stand on that piece of slate." (Which reminded me of my sister -- 'You know that green thing in the back yard?' <3) "Follow it all the way to the left, to the tree line. There's a stake in the ground under an evergreen tree."

There was not stake.

But under the corner of the retaining wall was the grill cover.

As I hacked my way through evergreens and birches and what I am sure was poison ivy (thankfully my slippers are boots) I searched for the nonexistent stake. All I found was mud.

"This isn't in my job description."

She laughed and told me to give up. The fencing company had been given instructions to build 11 feet out from the wall. She decided to just work with that.

I put the cover back on the grill and headed inside.

The fence went up, and then back down when T got home and found the stake. It wasn't 11 feet out. It was more like 6. The poor guy had to fill in his holes and move them but then he got the fence back up.

He put up exactly enough lengths to fulfill the deposit amount they had made the year before. It's a beautiful raw wood horse fence and I can't wait to take pictures of the kids along it. All fifteen feet of it, because apparently that's what their deposit was worth. It stops randomly in the center of the yard along the retaining wall.

But the man was incredibly nice and he did a good job, cleaned up, took down a rotted fence on the other side of the yard, had a glass of water and headed on his way, leaving us with a more distinguished property line.

Well, in that one corner of the back yard anyway.

I'm addicted to everything.

The last two days have been largely the same.

We got through our morning routines, although therein lies the biggest differences between today and yesterday. The night before last dinner wasn't ready until almost 7(T cooked) and so the kids went to bed super late.

Yesterday morning was a screaming, fighting, yelling, threatening match and then the kids finally were off to school.

Today R was singing her compliance to everything.

I spent both days working in between app downloads on my new phone. I knew it would be bad, but this is ridiculous. I can hardly put it down. The only good to come out of it is that I found an app that gives you free access to the complete bible, in several different versions and so I have actually read it without dragging my feet about going to the basement for it.

We're on our second round of colds in this house this winter. The first round hit everyone else first and I held out until the bitter end. It hit T second to last but she had it the longest because all her remedies had to be natural while the rest of us flaunted our DayQuil and NyQuil and unlimited supply of cough drops.

She's just getting over it in the last week and this next bout hit all the rest of us at the same time. All three kids have runny noses and I have been blessed with a sore throat as well.

You know what they say, the family that eats together, coughs together. Or maybe they don't say that but they should.

Sometime between Saturday night and Tuesday morning the cover blew off of the grill and vanished. Why is the grill still outside you ask? I asked the same and found out E is "one of those." I've witnessed this before. Men so dedicated to barbecued meat that they are willing to bundle into a parka and brave the elements to run outside every ten minutes and turn something. We've all searched the yard now and there is no sign of that cover. And so, of course, it rained yesterday.


But I didn't really care because I was playing with my phone.

In addition to technology I have recently re-developed a coffee addiction. I have been off coffee for several years now, ever since caffeine tried to kill me in late 2006. We weren't even on speaking terms for a few years and I switched entirely to recreational decaf.

When I changed my diet to cut out the causes of my indigestion I let go of the decaf and became an official once-in-awhile coffee drinker.

This week and last I was barely functional without it. I would muscle my way through the mornings and then around lunch time I would cave and down two cups. It was like magic. And the best part was that after the caffeine worked its way through my system, I crashed hard and slept wonderfully.

This morning I didn't hear anything until my alarm. Do you know how longs it's been since that happened?

A long time.

But I am weening myself off the joe again anyway because it is bringing heartburn back with it and that is not acceptable.

I'm off now to see how my phone is doing. It probably needs me. It's been a while.

This is the height of my stupidity. I hope.

Let me just tell you how dumb I am.

I had yesterday off, two Sundays in a row!! How about it?!

I met up with Nanny K for church, who is taking much less drawing out than I expected. I think my initial impression of her being so quiet and introverted was wrong. I think she was just feeling completely displaced and all she needed was a nudge toward a new niche and now she's out there and it's comfortable for her. From what I've seen in one week she's a zillion times happier than she was and she seems to be quite at home at Franklin Square.

I am so excited for her!

After church we grabbed a quick lunch and I stopped through town to pick up my brand new iPhone! (OH YEAH!) I fell in love with it immediately and I don't even care what my bill looks like, I never have to talk to T-mobile again and that is the happiest news any girl could ask for. I have service, I can actually call people whenever I want and HEAR WHAT THEY ARE SAYING.

And I can monitor Facebook 24/7 to more thoroughly stalk, well, everyone.

After all that I had plans to go visit a friend who just set up shop in New Jersey.

Ridgefield Park, to be exact.

She's right over the George Washington bridge, which puts her about 50 minutes from me. I missed the 3:50 train and spent an hour on the platform playing with my new phone. I caught the 4:50 and spent the 35 minutes on the LIRR playing with my new phone.

I played with my new phone as I walked through Penn Station but then I had to go outside to get to Port Authority so I put the phone away, wrapped a scarf around my face and cried like a little girl about how cold it was the whole way.

I didn't lose much time on my walk to Port Authority, I went to the NJ Transit line, got a ticket for a bus leaving in ten minutes, asked for a gate number and ran to it. I had NO idea which of the five doors at the gate number to go through so I pretended it was a game show and as I stood there working out the odds of getting a decent consolation prize behind door number three another girl came into the vestibule and I asked her which way to the bus going to Ridgefield Park.

She said to follow her, so I did, handed my ticket to the driver who tossed it into a pile without looking, and I boarded the bus. I thought maybe I should ask the driver exactly where the bus was going but he wasn't on the bus yet and he seemed busy. I wondered why exactly the NJT doesn't see fit to label their buses with a route number, but I knew that if my bus was numbered anything between 160 and 168 I would be ok and I was relatively certain it was.

It was.

But that ceased to matter.

I spent the entire trip playing with my new phone. When I looked up because someone sat down next to me I realized that I had no idea where I was. I asked him and he said we were in Ridgefield Park.

I asked him if he knew my stop and he said yes, it was coming.

I went back to playing with my phone.

A minute later he shrugged and smiled and said he didn't actually know.

I laughed out loud because that is TOTALLY something I would do. I thanked him and went to ask the driver, who barely spoke English and seemed more confused than I was.

"Ridgefield Park? You're on the wrong bus."

But I wasn't. Ok, I sort of was. Any of those 160-numbered buses go through Ridgefield Park. But the bus I was on didn't stop at the exact intersection that I was expecting. Still, I wasn't far from my destination so he gave me a transfer ticket and I got off and called my friend.

Now, let me take you back for a minute here.

When I left my house that morning I had a string of errands to run. I gathered the cash that T pays me in, and my cash Christmas present for my phone, and left the house to ride around on public transportation all day.

At the point when I got off the bus, after dark (I believe it was around or after 6), alone, lost in New Jersey, I had $700 in cash in my purse. I had a new phone that I was completely distracted by and I was wandering around looking for coffee.

And this isn't even the worst thing I would do that day.

Just wait.

I told Sam where I was, found coffee, called her again to tell her where I was since I walked a few blocks to get coffee, stood outside talking to my mom while a group of five men stared at me from the corner and finally met up with Sam.

We had a fun night, talking and eating and drinking and not paying any attention to the time until all of a sudden it was 11:30.

And I still had a bus ride, a walk, a train ride and a cab ride home.

And work in the morning.

Still, this is not my untelligence (it's a thing) acme.

Sam got me to the next bus, at 11:47, and I made it back into the city.

I bypassed a cab after swearing to myself I would not do that, and walked back to Penn Station, after midnight, with $700 in my purse.

I got into Penn right AFTER a train left. I had to wait for an hour.

Here's where it starts to really get bad.

My judgment and patience completely slipped away from me. The drunk, rowdy teens waiting at the big board for track announcements was getting under my skin. I was playing with phone, trying to find someone to text who was still up at that hour and cursing the day they invented delicious, delicious Chinese food when a man approached me for a dollar.

He was clearly not homeless, I believe he was looking for cash for a phone call or something, and normally I would not be so stingy, especially after my past experiences in Penn Station. But there was no way I was opening my wallet stuffed full of hundreds in front of anybody.

I told him I was sorry I couldn't help him and he continued on his way.

The teenagers got louder and I began to shoot them filthy, dirty looks.

A drunk couple stumbled within my personal bubble, the woman sinking to the floor as she inhaled a slice of pizza. A cluster of policemen wandered by, laughing at the drunks.

The man who needed a dollar asked me again. I nearly exploded.

I began downloading free apps at the speed of light, watching the clock on the big board, willing 1:09 to come so they would announce my track for the 1:19 train and I could get away from the stupid drunks and the man who can't seem to score a dollar.

I was considering going to the restroom to fish out a dollar to give him on his next round when FINALLY my track was announced.

I got a seat and played with my phone the whole way back.

I flew off the train at my stop and ran up the stairs to try to catch one of the cabs that are always waiting when trains come in.

The cold air and my overwhelming exhaustion stole what was left of my sanity and reason.

There was one cab, two passengers already inside it, leaving room for two more. Two men approached it as I did, going the same place. I hollered my destination first and the driver was considering me but I relented and told the two men to take it. I asked the driver to call me another car and then as they left me there in the single digit cold I wanted to slap myself for being an idiot.

Had I just given up my rightful position in the ONLY cab at the station in the middle of the night while I had loads of cash on my person and I was freezing my toes off?! I HAD!!!

Surely I could get no stupider.

Surely.

You would think.

AND YOU WOULD BE WRONG.

I woke up this morning surprised that it had been real, surprised that I was not dead in a gutter somewhere, and I hoped, I really, really prayed hard that God grant me the sense to NEVER do anything like that again.

I waited five minutes and when no second cab turned up I tried to call the company. I still don't know exactly what their hours are because sometimes they answer after midnight, sometimes they answer at 4 am, and sometimes they don't answer at all.

They didn't answer at all and I called several times.

On the verge of a decision to walk the 2 miles home, I saw a car approaching and slowing.

The cabs in Great Neck are black or silver, all the same car model. This car was black, but not the right model and not marked as a taxi anywhere. All of these things registered in my brain and I ignored them.

Honestly, this car was too nice to be a taxi but I didn't even look to see what it was. I was so cold and so tired. I went to the window, which rolled down hesitantly.

The male driver didn't say anything.

I told him my destination, heard the doors unlock, and got in the car.

That's right, I got in an unmarked car with a stranger.

Do you want to hit me right now? Because I do. Mom, if you're reading this, I am totally prepared for the lecture. I will take notes. I will. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT MYSELF.

There was nothing on the inside of the car to suggest he was a cab driver either. Nothing. Just a regular car, with a regular blank dashboard.

Then he told me the fare was $7. It's $5.

Was he just some guy who felt bad that I was standing in the cold at the station and thought he could make a few dollars off it? I guess so. Because he didn't murder me.

I started to tell myself that maybe it was a new taxi and he was charging a bogus late night fare, which some of the real cabbies do. I almost had myself convinced and then he asked me for directions.

He had no idea where I was going.

I gave him directions the whole way and when he turned the car into the driveway I was positive that if he was a taxi driver at all this was his first night, because no drivers have ever pulled into the drive here before. They are usually gone before I even walk up the driveway.

I didn't spend much time berating myself last night.

I was pretty close to crying and I really didn't want to so I took a quick shower and got into bed and played with my phone and then laid there and thanked God repeatedly for a good forty minutes that he had protected me while I did the dumbest, most irresponsible things I have ever done.

I debated sharing this whole episode but I believe I am prepared and in desperate need of the scoldings and warnings and speeches of utmost disapproval that are going to result from spilling every single bean I have in this entry.

So there. It's out there. I AM STUPID.

But I'm reformed, I think. And I don't know that I'll be doing any late night traveling for a while. And I'm definitely not going to EVER get in a taxi that I'm not SURE is a taxi again.

Ever.

I promise, Mom.

Hindsight and foresight.

Every now and then something in the course of my day will spark a memory of something in my past.

I'm incredibly nostalgic anyway so most of the time it's a welcome thought; something from the Atown era, or a moment from living with any of several of my siblings. Most often, in my line of work, it's a flashback to my own childhood.

Today I made play dough for the kiddies. They loved it. I let them choose a portion of each of their blobs to dye the colors of their choice. They were occupied for hours. T was home and she joined us and took pictures of them in their aprons and chef hats, standing on chairs at the counter pretending to make pizza.

She and I spent a lot of time gabbing today in between feeding the small ones and her own work on her home computer. I did a load of laundry and discovered that one of my two dryers is broken. The dial no longer moves while it's running; it ran for a few hours before I realized that there was no way those clothes weren't dry.

Holy electric bill Batman.

Several other appliances are warning us that they loathe and despise their existence.

The oven worked for a little bit this afternoon, long enough to burn granola, finish off R's Shrinky Dinks and then crap out again.

The freezer in the basement has been roaring on and off. The dishwasher that was SUPPOSED to be replaced but never has been, is only half-heartedly cleaning anything anymore.

And just so we're all up to speed on my vacuum situation, my new shiny cordless beauty DIED unexpectedly a few weeks ago and has been replaced by a not-as-shiny but also cordless new number, with a hand vac built right in. It's quiet, too quiet, but it seems to be getting the job done.

On the plus side, we have a new juicer which we use surprisingly often. I might have mentioned it once before.

Several faucets have sprung strange, unpredictable leaks.

The refrigerator door has ceased to latch when pushed closed. Also, it now has to be pushed close. It used to just fall shut so nicely...

Our wonderful electrician hasn't been here in a while but a couple of weeks ago he installed a motion light outside the garage so that I can see more clearly when I am coming in late after a night out and slinking along between the back of the car and the garage door and getting stuck to everything.

Only, it doesn't sense motion. It just does whatever it wants.

It also seems to be sharing a circuit with the inside garage light, so both cannot be on at the same time. It took us a while to figure that out.

Now, don't think I am complaining here, because I mean quite the opposite.

I am not very attached to any of these gadgets. And when they break down my nostalgia only increases.

I flashback to Africa and blackouts all throughout my childhood. When nothing is working properly in the afternoon and we just set up camp in the middle of the playroom with sweaters and hot chocolate all I can think about is the time my brothers and sisters and I camped in a tent in our front yard and brought out hot chocolate in tall, plastic Tupperware cups and fought over which color cup we wanted.

I relive stuff like that all the time.

And the best part is, the kids here thrive on hearing stories about whatever I am thinking about.

We had to get a globe just so I could show R on the map exactly where Africa, Pennsylvania and whatever other states my stories took place in are.

And my hope in all this, my most constant prayer, is that all these stories and all the moments spent with these kids and with T, the whole family, will be the gospel witness that I can't verbalize here.

I received my Christmas bonus, which T had wanted so badly to give me in the form of a gift but we couldn't find a time to get us both to the Verizon store, but her card was so nice and this family does love me as much as I love them.

I have been here for six months, as of January 2.

According to our verbal contract at the time of hire, I have 6-18 more. According to T in the course of any given day, it's more like 4-7 years.

We'll see.

That's it? Today is over?

My morning was spent in a near-death state of lady pain.

Monkey agreeably played with his toys on the floor while I cried and moaned on the playroom bed. The TV wouldn't even work. Around lunch time I made a giant pot of coffee and drank it. All of it.

Then I swallowed every pain killer I could locate (two -- for now) and got R from the bus.

That's right. I didn't do anything in between those two things except try to nap but I couldn't because (prepare for run-on sentence) first I was lying in the playroom and it was too cold in there so I went into the living room to the comfy leather couch and the dog was there on a pillow he is not allowed to be on but I just curled up next to him thinking this would be all cute and snuggly and then AND THEN he started licking himself and for thirty minutes all I heard was him licking and no matter how many times I told him to stop he didn't and it was SO GROSS and I just don't get dog people.

I don't. I never will.

Anyway, tonight was Shabbat. The kids were surprisingly well-behaved so I spent the night bouncing between my book (I'm almost done with the first one Brianne) and the stack of National Geographics in the corner of T's mom's den.

I love National Geographic.

I love the pictures and the articles about things all over the world and all through history and even now.

But I also hate them because, like public schools and the Museum of Natural History, they pretend the evolution theory is a fact, when in fact, it is a theory. And I find this maddening.

All religion aside, science is about proof, right? The evolution theories, all of them, all several hundred of them with their thousands of variations, are so full of holes that it is just plain wrong to publish them as fact.

And this has become a deep-rooted source of anger for me.

So I have never purchased an NG or even thought about subscribing. But I will read them for free when I get a chance and at Grandma's house there are several chances.

The point:

I found an article about a park OVER Manhattan called the High Line. It was a railroad, built high over the city and in the 60s part of it was torn down. The rest was saved and turned into a concrete park. Gardens, scenic overlooks over the Lower West side of the city. There's even some vendors up there now and they are going to expand the park in the next few years.

And I never knew about this.

But I am SO excited.

When I began job hunting in this neck of the woods, part of my reasoning was that I am familiar with the general New York area and I knew I would enjoy being able to go into the city and wander, which I have done a lot of. I have revisited several tourist attractions that I had seen in my childhood and I have gone to a few new places as well. I know it will take me a quite a while to cover everything I want to cover, but this one gets bumped up to the top of the list for sure.

IT'S JUST SO COOL.

It's like another layer of city right on top of the city.

SO COOL!

Well, that's not gonna help.

I am in stage three of insomnia induced deterioration.

Stage one is feeling like you're in a fog all day.

Stage two is body aches and an overwhelming desire to hurt things.

Stage three is a combination of hallucination and despair.

The kids have been relatively well-behaved today. I made a few productive phone calls, cleaned something or something like that. I might have changed a load a laundry; I really don't know.

The worst part of my day was when I tried to nap this afternoon and it just didn't happen. Not even close.

The best part of my day was right now when I made a huge mug of double hot cocoa and drank it with no concern for the sugar, calorie or caffeine content. It was blissful.

In between, I received some fan mail.

HOW 'BOUT IT?!

This would have been my number one moment of the day if I had gotten any decent sleep recently.

Someone, a stranger, asked me about the comment I made yesterday (or something, my timeline is a little screwed up here) about making myself feel better by mixing it up with the kids. She thought that was sweet (haha -- me, sweet) wanted to know what my secret was.

I had a conversation with one of my sisters once not that long ago about enjoying your kids, or any kids really. I get that there are people who are just not kid people, but I am hoping against hope that none of them are parents.

But if you are a parent or a caregiver, the secret to enjoying your kids is to just enjoy them. I don't do it all the time. I have had plenty of PMS days where instead of enjoying the kids or trying to play with them to lift my mood I just yell at them to go away and hide behind my book and a five pound block of fudge.

But more often than not, I just acknowledge consciously that if I want to feel better at all, about anything, whether it be an actual problem or PMS related, I need to keep the kids happy. Keeping them happy will keep me happy.

And then the added bonus is that kid giggles are just the best sound ever.

So that's the big secret.

My other big secret is that I have been sneaking R and J's Hershey kisses brought home from a birthday party.

DON'T TELL THEM.

And my other OTHER big secret is that I have been buying regular Cheerios and putting honey and almond milk on them. It's delicious.

Ok, that's not a real secret, but I'm not very secretive. Hopefully, you have figured that out by now.

Now, it's time to go stalk three or four of my possible future husbands on Facebook and then figure out a way to fall asleep.