Like DJ Lance Rock…you know…the strange, retro-lookin’ guy from Yo Gabba Gabba? That show is so fucking whacked. And I remember the first time I saw it, I commented to nobody in particular that I gave it half a season, at best, before it was pulled from Treehouse because what kid would want to watch those gumby like dudes break dancing as Elijah Wood be-bopped on screen?

Turns out I was wrong. Really, really wrong. It’s a hit with the kids…and not just my equally whacked children, either! Apparently all kids like the show and it’s gotten rave reviews. Rock tries to never miss an episode because he’s weird like that and all three of my little people are addicted to it and “there’s a party in my tummy” and “ah, break it down!” especially.

So that’s where the title for today’s post came from. DJ Lance Rock and his crazy yellow outfit and “where the fuck did he find that?!” hat. Cuz I’m going to break it down for all of you. Maybe I’ll try to post a picture of DJ Lance and the Yo Gabba Gabba crew with this post…we’ll see how it goes.

For now, though, the break it down post.

· The Pedicure

Cuz I know you’re all just dying to hear how it went. Did janetk really have the ugliest feet the pedicurist (thanks for the proper name, AJ!) had ever seen? Did she refuse to do anything to those Canadian feet? Did janetk actually like it?

Well, I warned her right away that I was nervous (and I was…embarrassingly so) because I was scared I would have the ugliest or grossest feet she had ever seen. She assured me that everyone thinks that their first time. Oddly, that didn’t make me feel any better and I didn’t start to relax into it until about halfway through when I realized that I was probably clenching through the best parts.

Once I relaxed some it felt really good and I intend to return. Plus, I have the most rockin’ purple toenails! Why pick a boring color like peach or taupe or whatever when you can choose from the funky colors?! It’s kind of like socks and underwear…you have to wear them anyway, you might as well choose cool ones.

The only part of the pedicure process that sort of weirded me out was sitting so high up above another human who was hunched over my feet. I looked around at some of the other ladies…ladies who, by the way, were really, really classy…I stuck out like a sore thumb, believe me…and they were just sitting and reading a magazine and pretty much ignoring the girls scrubbing their feet. That part definitely felt wrong.

· The Virus

Otherwise known as the illness from Hell.

No, I’m still not 100% and this fucking thing started on Sunday night! I’m not nearly as congested, though, thank Dog and I don’t have the same kind of achy, crummy, put me out of my misery feeling that haunted me much of this week. I’m on the mend, I know that much is true. But it’s still not completely over and it’s starting to bug me. I think that the upset stomach and occasional feelings of queasiness are results of gut rot which I likely brought on my taking Robax for the body aches and Motrin every four hours just to keep myself close to level. There has been a lot of pain relief flowing through my system… it’s bound to have an effect at some point. The really shitty part of that is that I still need to take something. It’s damp and cold and my adhesions are acting up like mad and when that’s coupled with a turbo virus, the pain is pretty distracting. An anti-inflammatory is just about the only thing that works so I’ll be on the Motrin train and paying the price with gut rot for a little while longer.

· The Adventure

Which is all anyone really feels hearing about, really. And truth be told, it’s all that I really feel like talking about, too.

Tonight I head to my sister’s place in Ottawa and tomorrow morning will find me on a plane, on my way to Manchester, New Hampshire to see my American Boy. In some ways, it seems like eons ago that I had my hands and lips on him. In other ways, it seems impossible that five whole weeks have passed. Maybe because we started planning this next instalment of the Janet Land Adventure a few short days after I was home. And maybe because this will be our longest stretch of time together so this visit needed a bit of extra planning.

Whatever the reason…the time has finally come.

And I’m nervous.

I’m not nervous about actually flying. I’m just not one of those people who gets worked up about that. I’m more scared in a car than in a plane for the simple reason that there are far more car accidents every day than plane crashes and pilots have a lot more training than regular drivers do. I think that some people are scared of flying because they have relinquish pretty much all of their control. And because I like giving up control in a navigating or steering contest, I’m cool with it.

I’m not nervous about making the connections or anything, either. I booked an early flight (it leaves at six o’clock in the morning, which means I have to be at the airport at four thirty in the morning…me and my grand ideas, eh? Ah, it will be worth it…) so that I would have lots and lots of time in Toronto to go through customs and security without being worried or frazzled. I’m also not checking any bags this time so I won’t have to waste time waiting for the blasted things to come down off of the conveyor belts only to be scrutinized by customs and re-checked. I mean, priorities, right? I could be outside smoking during that time! And drinking mass amounts of coffee! And trying to guess which guy has the bomb in his shoe! Okay… that wasn’t funny… well, a little bit it was. My point is that I’m not nervous about that side of flying someplace. Plus, I’ve navigating the Toronto airport once already… it will never be that scary again.

And I’m not nervous about the actual visit and trip. How could I be?! That part I’m most definitely jumping out of my skin excited about. Our last visit was exceptional but this time promises to be an even better time. I’ve already met the people I’m supposed to meet…some of them liked me…some of them didn’t, but what’s done is done. We have more time together this time around and there won’t be quite as much of it spent with me dancing in a grocery store because I saw a Keebler elf. Well, there’s bound to be a little bit of that…but I digress. Don and I are getting better and better with every meeting at making the very most of our time together.

Because what our blog posts don’t tell you is that we actually really * like * one another, too. Both of us tend to get caught up in the melodramatic, intense love, can’t put one foot in front of the other because the world is going to end feelings when we’re blogging or talking about one another. The truth is that we also get along really well and have more in common than meets the eye. And we have fun. Crazy, stupid fun when we’re together. And there are moments, both when we’re together AND when we have a phone line separating us, when we just click. When I feel the everyday truth seeping from my pores and I feel myself turning into myself…my real self. And I live for those moments. And I know we’ll have plenty this coming week.

So, no…I’m not nervous about that part.

What I’m nervous about, of course, is leaving my children again. This never seems to get easier, no matter how they bug the shit out of me and no matter how much I know that this is a gradual learning process for them. That they have to learn to be parented by only one parent at a time because the time for actual separation is drawing near. They’ve had nights away from me and that’s good. They’ve had days when I’m literally out of the country and that’s good, too. This is the next step. And I know it’s important and I know it’s okay and I know that the world won’t actually come to a grinding halt.

But I can’t help it.

I’m nervous.

Part of this is because Rock still hasn’t figured out what he’ll do while I’m away next week. Last night, in my best non-nagging voice, I tried to ask him again if he had come up with a plan. He hasn’t. He said he hasn’t seen his Mom to ask her about baby sitting for him, yet. He thinks he’ll call our summer sitter, N, to come out a couple of times. This is all fine and well, but there’s nothing saying that N hasn’t gone and gotten herself another job this summer. And N has never really done all three kids alone, let alone all three for a whole day. And there’s nothing saying that his Mom won’t have something going on next week.

I have to let this go. It’s his responsibility. I took care of mine. They are his children, too. And he had three and a half weeks to figure this all out. And I tried over and over again to make suggestions and too offer ideas and to work around whatever it was he decided. If he didn’t decide anything, then my hands are tied, right? Right?

The thing is when Rock is going to be away, he never worries about how the kids and I will manage. He never asks me if it’s okay to go. So, why then do I feel the need to ask him?

I have to keep reminding myself that when I’m away he has no choice but to step up to the plate. That when I’m away, he has to be good to them and he has to put forth an effort.

I have to keep reminding myself that at some point he will have to do what he agreed to do a long time ago.

And that’s be a daddy.

So, on that note, I’d best get my ass off of the computer and get moving on the last minute things left on my to-do list. Starting with painting these fingernails of mine since I was too cheap to add a manicure to the pedicure last night. And I promised Kate that I’d paint hers, too.

See you all once I’m in America! One more sleep! Hooray!