Answer this for me, please:

Anyone else having trouble posting comments on blogs lately? Anyone else having trouble seeing the comments posted on their blog articles?

I noticed it a few times yesterday, starting with me attempting to comment on Mary elkhound’s blog. And then this morning, the comments on my post, “A**holes, Airports and Whole Grain Bread” wouldn’t appear no matter how many times I refreshed the page. And I couldn’t comment yet again on the posts I read.

What the fuck?!

So, if you notice that I cruised by your blog…if you click on your recent visitors and see my glaring face staring back at you…but are missing one of my insightful and delightful comments peppered with red hearts and smiley faces, now you know why. Also, if you were expecting some kind of reply to your comment on my blog…again something probably riddled with the hearts and maybe a wink or two… now you know why it’s not arriving.

It’s been a “what the fuck?!” kind of morning.

And I think it’s going to be a “what the fuck?!” kind of day.

I am working on a post about porn. And by “working on”, I really mean that I’ve been thinking about it, talking about it and trying to organize my thoughts on it. Amerigobard’s comment on yesterday’s post (which, obviously, I could read) got me thinking. And some very telling conversations with the American Boy got me thinking. And some of my own inner reflections have got me thinking. And lastly, some random googling has got me thinking.

And you all know what happens when janetk starts thinking!

So, while I’m thinking about the post I also know that today just won’t be the day, no matter how the new knowledge and insights intensify and beg to be released. That’s the thing about epiphanies, eh? Once you have one, it’s almost impossible to hold it in and not share with the unsuspecting readers of your blog. Poor you guys….Ha.

I just have too much to get done today to start yakking away about pornography.

We are celebrating Kate’s birthday this weekend because I will be away the following weekend and will actually be out of the country on her actual birthday. I know, I know…I’m a horrible mother…but before you go feeling sorry for the little freak, rest assured she’s crazy happy about this plan because it means that she’ll have not one, not two, but THREE birthday celebrations. The first of which will happen at our house on Saturday, when we’ll do the presents and cake and ice cream thing. She wants a “pool party” so I’m hoping that the weather is nice and hot so that we can blow up the pool that my MIL bought for the girls and let them have at it outside.

The second par-tay will happen on the following Friday evening with my sister (it just occurred to me that Judy doesn’t actually know about this, yet! Ha!). Rock and the kids will drop me at my sister’s in Ottawa (it still feels strange not to say, “Big City”) because my flight the following day leaves at a most ungodly hour and it is just easier to not have to drive to Ottawa the day of. Friday night won’t really be a par-tay, so to speak…just a little celebration with my sister that will likely involve some kind of sugary treat and a present or two.

The third and final par-tay will take place the following Sunday…the day before Kate’s actual birthday… when I will be wrapped up in the arms of the man who loves me, 540 miles away. My Mom and Dad will pick the girls up and take them back to their place for some birthday festivities. My Mom really gets into birthdays so it won’t be a let down for either of them. It’s one of my mother’s best qualities…her love of birthdays and her over the top celebrations.

So, believe me…Kate is not deprived.

M had to cancel our appointment on Tuesday because she was sick and we re-scheduled for today. It’s all fine and well except that it means that I have to get everything done before 2:45 when she arrives. She hasn’t yet seen Michael crawling or pulling himself up. We had to cancel the previous appointment because Emma and then Kate were so sick. I would never forgive myself if I gave M something to take back to the other children, one of whom has cancer, she works with. I’m looking forward to seeing her today and letting Mr. Michael show off a bit but there’s one other little hitch to this afternoon…

Michael is fucking hateful today.

I realized something about the little boy that I love so much the other day while he was having one of his patented temper tantrums over the bottle being the wrong temperature (man, do I miss breastfeeding! I wish I had been successful with him…I really do…).

What I realized is that the little guy is actually pretty high strung. I’ve called him “easy going” for so long now that I basically believe it. But the truth is that he is anything but. He’s fine as long as he has exactly what he wants…and I do mean * exactly *… and as soon as he doesn’t, all hell breaks loose. He arches and screams and bucks and throws himself back in a most dramatic manner. And he’s hard to calm down or soothe. Leave him to it for too long and he actually * won’t * be able to calm down at all. And the slightest little thing will set him off and tears are only ever seconds away.

The kid has some anger management issues. I blame the NICU and the damn conditioning and instilling of routine…damn them and their life saving measures!

And speaking of hateful, my mother is driving me fucking batty. One day she’s “happy for me” and thinks everything is a “win-win situation” and the next day, she’s badgering me with questions that have no answers and staring at me with her tight, “I’m not going to say anything” face and trying to make me feel bad. I think it might be time for me to have a conversation with my beloved sister, Judy, not only to discuss the Friday we’ll be forcing ourselves onto her but also to have a good venting session about our parents. It’s been awhile since I spoke to Judy and I just might e-mail her to set up a phone date. Because I could use a good vent.

Judy is the only other person in the world who “gets” my parents. She’s the only one who I can talk to about these bullshit things without fear of judgement or misunderstanding. She and I will always “get it” whenever something concerning the people who gave us life comes up.

And speaking of giving someone or something life…I’m 99% sure that there isn’t any life growing inside of me (and thank Dog for that! The poor kid would end up pickled in vodka and kool-aid in between having caffeine jitters…which reminds me…sorry, baby…I couldn’t cut the coffee back…not this morning…) because Mona is starting to throw her bags onto the front porch of my uterus. I think she’s going to make this stay worth her while. I can just feel it. I’m feeling like a fourteen carat bitch lately (don’t believe me? Ask the American Boy about the yogurt melts) and the urge to eat gigantic chocolate bars covered in salt is almost overwhelming. I almost cried last night when I realized that Rock had finished the ice cream.

The only upside to Mona’s imminent arrival is that for the first time in a long time, Don and my visit will not be timed to four weeks and she won’t be able to rain on our love parade (oh man…that sounded even worse than it did in my head!). I’m not sure that Don has fully recovered from his bed looking like a murder scene in May so it will be nice to spare him this time around.

And on that note, I realize that not only has most of this been too much information but that for someone who started out by saying that she had too much to do today to really write about anything, I sure have said a lot!

Time to torture myself with my newest favorite website…sourpuss clothing. So much that I want. And so little money for any of it. Fuck, I hate being poor.

Happy Thirsty Thursday, Everyone!