Long road home

I am not going to lie, friends. Yesterday's trip to Louisiana was sooooo long. When we got to Houston and found that our next flight had been delayed, and then delayed again, I thought I'd perish. The boys were rolling around on the filthy floors, eating messily and popping back into their mouths what fell onto said floors. I have a very high threshold for germ toleration but this took even me down. Meanwhile, Jack refused to remove his Pokémon glove which resulted in his looking like a terrifying cross between Michael Jackson and an 80s poser dude. Please observe. And the ever-boogery Oliver realized that if he squeezed his nose shut with his fingers and then inhaled deeply, his nose would stay shut and skeeve Jack out. I called him Voldemort, and every time Jack looked at Voldey, his eyes watered dramatically.

It was with enormous relief that we rounded the bend towards the baggage claim in LC and saw my parents. Once home, I poured a glass of wine and sat myself down. Hope y'all are well. No cooking for me today but tomorrow? Yes.

Good loud morning, world

I woke up this morning to a large cat on my stomach and two mostly-naked boys vying for sides of me. It was nice really- everything and everyone all a'purr. And then something tweaked the loving balance, plunging it into mayhem and we had to jump ship and head for the kitchen. Alas. The boys are now wearing "jet-packs" -J's is his giant, rolling carry-on bag, and Ol's is a hilarious one Tom made from part of a wine shipment box and some Duck tape- and racing around the house like loons. I hope they get all this out before we get to the airport. Send me vibes, peeps. I can tell Tom is literally quivering with the desire to be quiet and alone. I get that completely. He'll have four days in his own home by himself, and I'm happy for him.

The pie I made on Saturday was fully devoured by last night. Save for a piece I gave to M, a friend who never says no to my offers of food, bless her, T and I ate the whole thing. I had it for breakfast and twice more yesterday. Excellent!

I also awoke to the news that Michael Brown was shot six times. SIX. In case you have been under a rock, he is -was- the unarmed black teenager in Ferguson, MO, who was killed by policemen last week. I am seriously angry about this and Eric Garner's death; he too was killed by a policeman, by a chokehold on a New York street. I have more to say about this but I'm not ready.

Oh Mah Gah

People, we have reached that point of summer where each of us seems to be devolving into punchy-gaga batshitness. The kids are playing an incredibly stupid game they just invented. It's called Toucan and involves my couch, one of their "easy chairs" and two kids in underwear jumping over and into each other and then falling down. Obviously they've each already sustained injuries -  we had to ice Oliver's butt - but have returned to the game immediately because they are that smart. Today I gave Jack $5 for lunch because, merciful god, I figured out two days before the end that he can buy lunch at camp. He bought onions, pickles, tomatoes and strawberry soup. What?

"Jack, you have to eat some fat. Where is the fat in that?"

"Fat happens tomorrow, Mom."

I guess that's better than packing a lunch, but still.

He is now threatening me about a Magic Treehouse book-on-CD. "Now or never, Mom. I want it tonight. Otherwise I'm gonna throw away one of your favorite magazines." He has no idea how helpful that would actually be. I had already put the CD in Oliver's room. Tough doo-doo, man. And PS, why can't kids ever just ask each other, "Hey, can we trade?" Why all the middleman shit? Never gets them anywhere. Again, it's obvious that summer has helped them become smarter.

I took away all of his allowance chips for tomorrow. Fun.

Meanwhile, Oliver put his little man part on me one too many times and he is now under life-threat of losing Pete the Cat for double infinity.

One of my best girlfriends, C of two daughters, texted me recently in an equally batshit way. "I just told Oldest Girl that she was being annoying. She said, 'I like to be annoying; then I'm the center of attention.'"

People, seriously?!

I have come to realize that my life is not yet ready for childcarelessness. As in, no babysitters or relief at bedtime at least once a week is b.a.d. for this mama.

Another friend tweeted me this and the world shifted back into slightly better balance. A British friend wrote me today and said could appreciate my being "an extreme fan" of Benedict's. Love the way she put that.

Tom walks in and I say, "Did you see that Benedict's Hamlet sold out more quickly than did Jay-Z and Bey's tour?"

"No, because I do not live on the Benedict news feed." Hmph.