Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

What is it about the number four??

Ten years ago, when the Impertinent Daughter was four, she waited until I was busy washing dishes and grabbed the pair of scissors we'd been using for some project or other, and... cut her hair. She chose a chunk on the left side of her face and cut her long, beautiful, waist length hair to her chin. Right there in front. No way of hiding it.

My wild fey little fairy had a large chunk of hair missing.

I don't know who cried harder, me or the Husbandly One. Because... it was a big enough chunk that it couldn't be hidden, or "fixed." She had to have a haircut, and oh, she didn't like it, not one bit, because she enjoyed having her hair braided, and being able to do all kinds of fun things with her hair. We took her to a salon, and she had a cute little chin length pageboy cut that made her look absolutely adorable... but we missed our wild fairy, oh, so much!

Okay, so... cut to last night. The Impossible Son is over his bout with strep and went back to school yesterday, but now I'm fighting it off, and by the time I picked the kids up from school, I was shivering and had a very nasty headache and just wanted to lie down. So I did. Miss Impertinence came in to tell me she was bored, and I remember feeling a little anxious about this because truthfully? A bored Impertinence is NEVER a good thing.

I told her to find something to read, because seriously, we have a house crammed with books that she's barely cracked one fourth of, and she wandered out, shouting something vague over her shoulder, and I sort of dozed off. She came in my room sometime later, but since she didn't say anything to me, I didn't bother opening my eyes. Then THO came home, and I heard some loud talking, and a rather... dumbfounded silence, and then the ominous words, "Does your mother know about this?"

Okay, when my husband, when talking to the kids about me, addresses me as your mother... it's never a good thing.

So, she comes ditty-bopping in and says, "Look, Mum, I cut my own hair!" and turns around so I can see the back of it.

I can quite truthfully say that I completely and intimately understand the term, "shock and awe," now.

Before I lost my battle with the Wall of Fatigue, the back of her short haircut had come down just below the base of her neck. When she turned around to show me her handiwork, it was mostly right at or just above the bottom of her hairline. Where it wasn't skewing madly off at the diagonal. Because she had used a small hand mirror to see the back of her head when she cut it.

Y'all should be proud of me. I'm pretty sure I managed to keep "aghast" out of my expression, though I'm sure the "polite interest" I was aiming for probably looked more like "crazed serial killer." Or "my eyes are about to spontaneously pop out of my head while my eyebrows ascend into my hairline."

"Do you like it?" she asked with that big grin that really means, "please don't kill me or make fun of me."

"Oh, it's... um... um..." I floundered, then finally gave up and said, "Okay, that's gonna have to be fixed." Because there was just no way I was going to be able to adequately describe just how awful it looked.

And when she finally understood what I was saying, she said, "Well, what kind of cut do you think I'll have to get to fix it?"

I said, "Um... okay, think... Emma Watson..."

And I could see panic in her eyes because... she gets mistaken for a boy now with the feminine haircut she had before she'd mangled it, and I knew she was thinking it would only get worse if her hair was that short.

THO drove her into San Marcos after ordering me back to bed (because I'm trying not to come down with strep) to get her hair fixed because... there are no salons open after 5 in our small town. No, seriously, a lot of the businesses here roll up the sidewalks and lock the doors at 5 p.m.

They managed to salvage what she did to her hair and make it cute and girly without going the Emma Watson route. And she's actually taken my advice and today wore a shirt that leaves no doubt in anyone's mind that she is, indeed, a girl. However, I told her that should she continue this trend and decide to cut her own hair when she's 24, she's on her own as I will be officially not responsible for bad haircuts, dubious fashion choices, or shoe fails. They will all be on her ticket!

Now if I could just convince the Impossible Son to get his hair cut...

Okay, so I have to take Miss Priss to the doctor, because she's also dealing with strep again. And I called the Husbandly One to let him know what time and all that, and he says, haltingly, "Be sure to let the doctor know that she, er... you know... um, started her... her... you know... um..."

"Her... period?" I said helpfully.

Man, you could feel the flinch through the phone!!!

"Yes!" he said, and moaned. Yes, friends, he actually moaned over the phone! "I just can't say it!" he almost wailed.

"Why? You can say it when it's me," I said playfully.

"That's different!!" he said stubbornly. "It's you! Not my baby!!"

*falling apart laughing*

I'm gettin' waaaay too much enjoyment out of this, aren't I?

The Husbandly One loves me, he truly, truly loves me!  And how do I know this?  Because of what he brought me home!

Do you wanna know?  Do you wanna know? Do you wanna know??

Hee!!

He knows me SO well!!  He brought home "The Laws of the Game 2007/2008," which is the rule book authorized by the International Football 
Association Board and FIFA.  Heh.  That's soccer to us Yanks.  

He LOVES me!!  He really, really LOVES ME!!!

*laughs and whirls in a circle happily*

Pop passed into the Summerland in the wee hours of the morning.  Blessed be.

Hi Y'all,

Sorry I haven't posted for a couple of days, but as you can imagine, I've been rather busy with the Husbandly One.  He's not supposed to do things like run, lift the kids, haul groceries, etc, so I'VE been doing it.  Not that I mind.  In fact, where groceries are concerned, usually I bring them in, and he puts them away.  Why?  Because he's taller than me and has longer arms, and I got tired of having to haul the stepstool around the kitchen.  And I'm faster at bringing the stuff in than he is.  He tries to be organized and bring the cold stuff in first, so he looks for it.  Me, I just grab things and start walking.  And I grab as many bags as I can carry, which is a surprising amount.  Sturdy little thing, I am!

Anyhow, he's doing much better, and even looking better.  Just a few minutes ago, he popped his head in here and said with a sense of wonder, "I can smell the coffee!!"

His sense of smell has been sadly lacking since October.  Possibly longer.  And yesterday, he said, "You know, I didn't realize how much that thing was affecting me, but you know, now that it's gone, I can feel it.  I mean, my head feels lighter.  And my vision was getting distorted.  I was seriously thinking maybe I need glasses, because I was getting headaches, but now... I see just fine.  And the semi-permanent headache is gone, too.  I mean, I had gotten so used to it, I didn't even really notice it any more, but now... I feel so different!"

I bet he does!

We wonder, too, if the constant neck pain he had was connected to that giant polyp, because that's gone, too.  It's like getting a whole new husband!  His voice is different, too.  More resonant.  I had forgotten he sounded like that.  He just looks so much happier, and I'm glad it went well!

We have soccer this morning (that's football to you Brits, and yes, I know you know that, but I had to say it), and since the Husbandly One is banned from strenuous activity (yes, Auntie is being celibate, and though she is getting twitchy, perhaps she'll channel it into some really raunchy fics) this means he will have to coach from the sidelines.  In the Under 6 league, coaches are allowed on the field with their team, though they cannot play.  They're only there to direct the team, to make sure they run in the right direction, remember to kick the ball, etc.  Remember, we're talking about 4, 5, and 6 year olds.  If they run in the right direction, and remember to ignore the butterflies, and to kick the ball and not each other, it's a big deal!  Since the Impertinent Daughter is his "assistant coach," it has been decided SHE will be the one running on the field with the kids.  And not me.  *relieved*  My knee is not up to it, since my fall last week.  This will be a challenge, as she has a game at noon, so she will literally be running from the Impossible Son's game, to her own game.  Well, at least she'll be warmed up!

Here's hoping the Impossible Daughter's team can pull themselves out of their slump!  Yay, Spartans!!  WOOOOOO-HOOOOOO!!!!

Okay, so I survived the kindergarten field trip to the McKenna Children's Museum in New Braunfels.  Whew!  What a trip!  And the kids were completely and totally occupied during the entire trip!  YAY!!  And I had no trouble keeping up with my little trio of the Impossible Son, a little girl named Roxanna, and a little boy named Gaspar.  Boy, when I called my trio, only THREE kids looked up.  Nobody else had their names!  It was a DREAM!!!  

In the meantime, the Husbandly One, who has been fighting a recurrent sinus infection since October, finally went in to see an ear, nose, and throat specialist today.  He has lost his sense of smell, and his left sinus has been completely blocked.  We grew suspicious recently when a tooth on that side that had been bothering him for some time got worse, and he went to have it worked on last week.  Well, he ended up having a root canal, and not long after, the infection seemed to release.  But... he's still completely blocked on that side.  So, he went to an ENT, and while we were at the museum, my cell phone rang.  (no, I didn't jump this time, I have since found a ring tone that doesn't scare me to death, and I recognize as my phone).  "Where are you?" he asked cheerfully.

"Still at the museum.  Where are you?"

"Oh, I'm at home.  I have an appointment for a CT scan in two hours, so I thought I'd just come home and relax.  Just thought I'd let you know."

"Oh.  Okay.  So... how did it go?"

He kinda hemmed and hawed, then said, "I'll tell you when you get home, and after the CT scan.  Right now, they don't want to say much."

"Okay."  Then I had to chase after three kids (not mine) who were about to bowl over a little girl in a wheelchair, so I told him bye, be careful, I love you, yada, yada, yada, all the wifely stuff you say to your guy when you're worried but you can't say it.

So, after we were safely home, and I was rousting the Impertinent Daughter to get ready for soccer practice, the Husbandly One comes home with that tight, manic smile guys get on their faces when they hope you don't keel-haul them when they give you the bad news, but they're still hoping to charm you out of it, so they smile, not realizing they're giving it all away because that smile just doesn't hide ANYTHING.

"I'm having surgery at 10 am tomorrow morning."

*jaw falls open, eyes pop out, brain slips out ear and flails around on the floor*

Yep, he's got a polyp that has filled the entire sinus, and it's gotta go.  To say that I am stunned, gobsmacked, flabbergasted, bamboozled, whatever, would be a major understatement.  

So, there's this part of me that's running and screaming in little circles in my brain, panicking like crazy, because my husband is going to have SURGERY!!!  AAAAAACKK!!

But the calm, sensible part of me is saying, "well, this is a good thing, because this has been ongoing for some time, and he'll feel so much better afterwards, and it'll be really nice to once again be able to say 'honey, smell this and tell me if I put in enough garlic' and have him nod or shake his head, instead of reminding me he can't smell anything."

Can I get off this roller coaster, please?

Oh, and as far as my dad goes, the docs are doing a PET scan next week to make sure his cancer hasn't spread elsewhere, the sneaky little bugger.  They think it may be part of the original cancer that didn't get eliminated the first time, but hasn't had a chance to completely grow.  Do you think I'm tearing my hair out yet?  Yes, yes, I am!  

I do want to thank all of you who have been so supportive.  It really helps.  Right now, I will take every single iota I can get!  Love you all!  *hugs her f-list and snuggles them*

And elaboration?  QUIT SCARING ME LIKE THAT!!!