Um, Sal? The next time you decide to kick your sadness out, could you please specify that it not find a new home in the midwest? But rather maybe across the Atlantic? Or in the White House somewhere? Because I'm afraid it's trying to shack up at my house, and I really don't have room for it.

I know, I know- read my own stupid "good things" post, and get over it.

It's just that the past couple days have been extra hectic and Henry's taking an antibiotic (duh, he hates it), Tommy needs drops in his eyes because some kind of eye crud is going around L's house, and...

Henry's driver got in an accident yesterday, before she had picked any kids up. She's ok, but that meant that yesterday Henry had to take his antibiotic AND get picked up by a different person in a different car. Whoa. Today she was back, but in a different car. "You don't want her to be in this white car! You want her to be in the black car!" Everything I said this morning was met with brilliant opposition by Henry. "It is not a school day! Tomorrow is a school day! It is not Wednesday! It is Thursday!" (That argument is a little flawed, as he would still have to go to school, whether it's Wednesday or Thursday.) "Do you want to just wear this shirt over your jammie shirt, so you'll be a little warmer?" "You will NOT be warmer! You will be COLDER!" "The chocolate donuts are NOT gone!"

Thomas didn't sleep very well last night- I kept bringing him in to our bed, but he always ends up kind of making an "H" between Bill and I, kicking one of us and slapping the other, like we are both in his way. How do some of you sleep with your kids every night? Tommy beats us up all night- as if we are in HIS bed, not the other way around.

OK, I always feel like I need to end on an up-note. So last night was "parents night" for the basketball team. Each player gets introduced along with her parents, and we walk out in front of the adoring crowd, shake hands with the coaches, and each mom gets a long-stemmed carnation. Some stress was caused by how we were going to coordinate this (I suggested we just bring the boys out with us, but Bill thought that might steal some of Kate's limelight or whatever). But it all worked out, a friend was able to watch the boys during that portion of the game. So the funny thing was that right before the boys and I left for home, Kate came up and asked me for some money. A woman next to me said "you're that girl's mom? You look so young!" So that was a nice compliment, but I was laughing because, not only had I been introduced earlier as Kate's mom, but I was also wearing a dorky black t-shirt that said "Kate's Mom" in big white letters on the back! Did that woman think I was masquerading as a teenager's mother?

OK, thanks. I feel better now.