This chapter of my life is closed and so, thusly, is this blog.

If you’re interested, I’m blogging about books over at Emptying The Unread Bookshelf. Care to come along?


Um. What can I say? It’s been awhile. I’ve been mired in doldrums and awash in depression. The Things went to Disney about a month ago now, because they’re Make-A-Wish kids. Yeah, I said it. The Mommy said not to reveal any identifying info about us, but if that’s all you know (and all you WILL know) then it’s not a big deal. Not every Wish Kid is dying of leukemia, or even dying. So.

I had to go out and get a job. Like, a real one. Fuckbuckets. I like it well enough and it’s mindless (customer service) but it doesn’t pay that well and I rarely bob above 25 hours a week. Eh, my life, what can you do about it?

Thing 3 is an absolute trip sometimes. The older Things tend to ignore me when there’s anything else about they could set their Minecraft-fevered little eyes on (seriously, The Church of Minecraft is starting here, I guarantee it), but he tends to go “Hi Missa!” whenever he sees me, regardless of what he’s doing. OMG, that child’s speech. I no longer have to have ten-minute grunt-and-point-no-use-your-WORDS sessions with him. He knows if he wants something out of me, words get it. And they’re actual words instead of just vowel sounds approximating words! I am so proud of him.

Thing 2 is just a trip himself. He…well, The Mommy and I have had a longstanding agreement he’s probably gay just like me (the kid loved play-vacuuming at THREE) but I think he’s just gonna be pansexual. He loves everyone and holy shit, everyone loves him. Like, his teacher had to MOVE HIM from the center of the front row to the end, because fights damn near broke out every day over which little girl got to sit on which side of him. That is how popular my Thing is. He’s also getting a bit more flamboyant in his words and actions, which is great because it means he’s getting more comfy in the neurotypical world, but then there’s the screaming at his sister over Minecraft (of course it’s always Minecraft!)

Thing 1 is a sweetie and she’s really coming into being more of a big sister now. I mean, she’s always watched out for her brothers, but she’s gotten that little zing of a growth spurt where the kid realizes holy shit I’m the biggest and this is responsibility and I’m just really proud of her.

That is all for now.

Movies Taken Too Far

Okay, so The Mommy ended up with a two-pound marshmallow thanks to the Internet. No, I don’t get it either, but there you go. When it showed up on our doorstep, she kept yelling “IT’S SO FLUFFY!” until I finally yelled back “ARE YOU GONNA DIE?!” “YES!” Indeed, we like our movies around here and Despicable Me is on the current kiddie rotation. And she kept saying “It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna DIE!” like you do.

Fast forward to today. We are doing a double birthday party since both The Daddy’s father and sister have birthdays around now. The Mommy decides, in lieu of a cake, to go ahead and let everyone dig into the marshmallow. For some reason, Thing 1 has gotten it into her head that anyone who eats the marshmallow will die. So when I take a big piece and stuff it in my mouth, she yells “Are you gonna die, Miss Adventure?!” Thinking she’s playing with the movie line, I say “YES!” and finish poking it into my gawp. (Big marshmallows are really sticky, FYI.)

Cue nuclear meltdown. “Don’t die, Miss Adventure! DON’T DIE!” I laugh, but then she starts sobbing. “DON’T DIE, MISS ADVENTURE! DON’T DIE!” Insert facepalm here. And much reassurances that I’m not going anywhere and she’s stuck with me right here, right now. What it took to get her down…let’s just say that with well-meaning but unhelpful help, I was ready to chug my vodka-and-ginger-ale, which given that I’m completely skint right now and hoarding what little liquor I have, should give you an idea.

Of course, Thing 3 loves to make things worse. “Wanna die, Mommy!” and sticks his handout for some marshmallow. “Gonna die!” he says triumphantly as he stuffs it into his mouth.

My life.

What the…

So Thing 1 and Thing 2 have had “What the…” down for quite awhile. They also know all the curse words because we all use them. They know they can’t use them at school and we don’t like them using them here at home.

First story: Thing 2 is studying for the next stripe on his belt, next colour, whatever the kids in taekwondo do. Anyway, there’s facts you have to remember, including acronyms. Such as WTF, which is….



World Taekwondo Federation.

Thing 2 was puzzling over it on his written sheet and Thing 1 came over to help him. “It says what the fuck, Thing 2.” “No it doesn’t!” “Yes it does, WTF, what the fuck.”

Good god, these kiddos.

Tonight I discovered that Thing 3 has added a new phrase to his repertoire. “Oh shit.” Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Said rather much like “Oshi” since he’s still not that great at enunciating. Needless to say, I will NOT thank him for his good words (which I do if he clearly tells me what he wants without whining or garbling) if he pops that out at me.

My life, people. The Daddy was also walking around on the half-roof (right below the dormer windows) yesterday. I still have no idea why, but he seemed to be on a mission.


I stole it from Shalini so you have something to read.

A. Age: Nunya
B. Bed Size: Queen, most of which is taken up nightly by the cat.
D. Dogs: Two of them, dubbed Doofus Prime and Derpy Paws, because we are awesome. (Not their real names.)
E. Essential start to your day: Hating existence.
F. Favorite Color: Purple!
G. Gold or silver: Silver.
H. Height: 5’8″ish
I. Instruments that you play: I haven’t for years.
J. Job title: That’d be nice.
K. Kids: Have you been reading?
L. Live: Edge of Large Metropolis.
M. Mother’s Name: It’s Biblical.
N. Nicknames: Vencha.
O. Overnight hospital stays: Too many to count. When the Things get sick, damn do they ever.
P. Pet peeves: Stupidity, dumb people, being too sober/unmedicated to deal with stupidity, loud noises, eating noises, my door being opened…you get the point, yes?
Q. Quote from a movie: “I admire a young woman who speaks from the heart.” –The Cat Returns
R. Right or left handed: Right.
S. Siblings: Nope
T. There was no T on the list, so meh.
U. Underwear: A lot more childish than you’d think. The day Target started selling Hello Kitty underroos in adult sizes, I was sunk.
V. Vegetable(s) you hate: Squash/zucchini, bell peppers, okra, white button mushrooms. I have a texture issue.
W. What makes you run late: Traffic. The Things. Sleeping through my alarm.
X. X-rays you’ve had: Waaaaaay too many.
Y. Yummy food that you make: I have a special mac and cheese recipe. There’s also pretzel bread, pasta salad that my BFF taught me to make, and proper Southern lima beans.
Z. Zoo animal: Usually the marine life. Gimme some awesome fish or octopodes or dolphins or penguins or anything awesome like that.


Me: *dragging her laundry downstairs*
Thing 2: Thank you for burping!
Me: I didn’t burp.
Thing 2: I DID!
Me: When you burp, you say “Excuse me.”
Thing 2: No, you say THANK YOU FOR BURPING!
Me: No you don’t.
Thing 2: YES YOU DO!
Me: That’s not nice.
Thing 2: YES IT IS!
Me: Tisn’t.
Thing 2: YES IT IS!
Me: *heads back upstairs*
Thing 2: *fake burp* THANK YOU FOR BURPING!

Apropos of nothing…

Damn, Shali Brown, I like that new website of yours!

Who isn’t reading this brilliance, again? START NOW.

You heard me.

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