7:45 pm. I'm sitting in the kitchen, babysitting some garlic bread in the oven for DH and reading my Entertainment Weekly, when the door buzzer sounds. Since we live on the 2nd floor of our building, which has no technical wizardry like security cameras or intercoms, I'm forced to run downstairs to see who is at the door.

It's not like my folks to just drop by, so I figured it was either (a) a delivery person who hit the wrong buzzer by accident, or (b) possibly a late FedEx-type shipment requiring a signature.

Nope. A shaggy-haired guy with a clipboard ruffled his papers at the door. I stood on the stairs and greeted him through the glass without coming to the door.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm with a national letter-writing campaign for Bush. It's about his ecological policies."

This being Evanston, it's a sure bet he means the campaign is protesting Bush's ecological policies (such as "burn all the darned trees down and drill for more oil"). I'm completely sympathetic, but totally exhausted and fully aware that only one of my three kids is pajama-clad and actually in bed. (Danny: fully dressed and sacked out cold on the sofa since 4 pm; Benjamin: being changed by DH in our room.) I don't have an ounce of energy to extend to this guy, and I sure as hell don't have any money for the cause.

"I'm sorry," I say. "This isn't a good time. I've got a newborn baby up here...."

"Well, that's kind of why we're doing this," he slams as he turns away, but not fast enough to prevent me hearing ".... Bitch."

My mature response? "BITE me!"


P.S. Can anyone explain what's up with the zombies in the BuyOwner commercials? They all paid over four thousand dollars to sell their homes, and then sit in their depressed living rooms, shouting "Thanks, BuyOwner" with inadequate breath, as though guns were being held to their temples. It's totallly creepy, if you ask me.

P.P.S. Strep Invasion, Day Five: The bastard fever and its accompanying burning chill has been gone since earlier on Sunday. My glands still pratically stick out of my neck like errant grapes. The throat pain is, actually, improved to the point where I can drink without crying, but my appetite remains poor, and when I sneeze or yawn, it feels like my phantom tonsils are being raked with rusty knives. I'm watching the kids like a hawk, constantly wondering if their crankiness is masking symptoms. So far, I'm seeing only bits of illness from them.... Jake has some congestion and Danny is sleepy, but no fevers have popped up at this point. Everyone keep healthy thoughts zinging our way, since DH's mom arrives on Friday, and Jake's birthday party is on Saturday....

If money was truly no object, I could probably become quite the spoiled little princess. Since it is, I'll just live vicariously through the Internet, picking out trinkets that catch my eye...

In no particular order:

The Loving Arms necklace

Mother's Birthstone necklace


Diamond Eternity bracelet

Sleek Stacking Birthstone Rings or Silver Birthstone Stack Pendants

Spiral Drop Pendant


Of course, there are always practical little sandal stuffers like Book Bungees

Hey, race on over to Flea's world and wish her a happy birthday, wouldja? The gal deserves lots of well-wishes.

Yikes, what a freakin' day. The baby is still fussing at night; some nights are better than others but it's safe to say we're not getting much sleep, and the early morning hours belong to me since that's DH's deepest sleep mode. The other two woke early this morning, so DH and I passed the buck back and forth while attempting to ready the entire family for our first JT Force Five outing on public transportation. We dealt mainly with Jake this morning, who is suffering an intermittent case of I Think I'm A Teenager Therefore I Act Like A Snotty Asshole.

I Bjorned the baby and we trudged through the uncleared, somewhat icy sidewalks to the purple line, and then switched to the red line so we could take the kids to the dentist. The boys were not thrilled about the dentist, but a few goofy pages of the American Dental Association's web site prepped them well for sitting in the big chair, seeing the instruments of torture, and such exciting elements as the Magic Straw. And luckily, we go to the greatest pediatric dental practice I could imagine. Everything just went so smoothly, I could hardly believe it.

By the time I'd finished the paperwork, both boys were called back. There were open areas on either side of the main hallway, with small walls to provide just enough privacy. The boys were on chairs facing one another across the hall. Dr. Mary (seriously) showed Danny all the tools in the least scary way possible, and all I could think was how cool it would have been if that was how everyone was introduced to dentistry. They even do the cutest thing -- she asked Danny to touch his own nose, which would make the chair move. He wasn't fooled but kept touching his nose to get her to make the chair go up and down and recline. It was pretty darned cute.

DH and I switched kids halfway through, and I walked in to see Jake sporting way-cool, multicolored ski shades in his dentist chair. I guess the dental light is pretty strong for some kids, so they keep funky shades on hand to help them. The hygienist was prepping flouride trays, and I calmed Jake's discomfort by telling him it was just like getting mouthguards for playing a sport (something else we read about last night on the ADA's site). I wish I had a picture of him reclining in the chair with the ski shades on, blue and white trays in his mouth, and with the green Magic Straw sucking crap out from between his clenched teeth. It was awesome.

Within 45 minutes, Jake had a complete cleaning and x-rays, and Danny had had a basic exam and about three teeth cleaned (all he'd tolerate). Both the boys were told they did well and that their teeth looked good. Danny has lots of space between his teeth, but Jacob is going to have some crowding issues, so we were told to start saving now for orthodontia (insert hysterical laugh here).

We shlepped home and I managed to feed everyone restaurant-style (seriously, within 30 minutes I made chicken with rice, mac & cheese, crackers and cheese, Lunchables, half a package of Crab Delights, and a few drinks). Then I collapsed on my bed with the fussy baby. Danny insisted on taking his nap with me, too, so soon I was out cold with the two youngest. Within the hour, DH had shut down his laptop and crashed, too. Jake was jealous and bored, but was convinced to climb into bed shortly after that. So there we were, the dynamic JT family .... passed out cold on a sunny Saturday.

Now I'm exhausted and DH and I both have awful headaches. I still haven't gone to Costco, Target, or the grocery store (none of which we can really afford, but fuckit). So all that has to happen tomorrow, after breakfast with my folks, after my dad gets to the airport, and while DH finishes work on someone's web site. And at some point, I'd love to unload the dishwasher and put away three baskets full of clean laundry. All with Fussy Man permanently attached, since he only calms down now when he's touching me.

YAWN. It's almost enough to make me want to go back to work. Almost.

The lovely and talented Flea posted the world's greatest blonde joke on Friday; head on over and grab her link to Shakespeare's Sister to ROTFL yourself.

Also, in my sleepless haze, I somehow missed out on National De-Lurking Week. I highly doubt my readership is that, well, high, but if you lurk, come on out!

Good gracious, has religious pandering completely taken over the politicos of this country? Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich (Bla-Goy-a-vich), AKA "The Hairdo" just pledged to give $1 million in taxpayer dollars to rebuild a local church that burned down. While I understand the motivation, it is, as Eric Zorn points out, completely unconstitutional. At least one commenter to Zorn's blog suggests that Blago perhaps shift some funds to the perennially underfunded Chicago public schools. If he did that, more young families could continue to live in the city instead of emigrating from it when their kids hit school-age.

If Blago has all that money just laying around, I can come up with a few other suggestions for its use. Phone moi, BlaGov.