Oh, yeah. We are so ready for Halloween.

All of a sudden, I’m feeling hugely conspicuous, with the realization that I’m talking all about my mental and physical health here with people who actually know me in real life. I don’t know why it’s so easy for me to pour my heart out to the internets, but so difficult to share things with people who I see at the bus stop, but…it is. Already, my husband’s friends read stuff here, people from my twin club, naturally my own friends, but now…I just had a brief email exchange with K’s math teacher, and realized that I stupidly emailed her from my personal account with my email signature and blog link. D’oh! I know she’s probably not sitting around reading my blog. I have no doubt she’s busy dealing with apathetic, sarcastic middle schoolers who don’t turn in homework. Honestly, I’d rather deal with my own crazy ass life, dealing with autism and sassy kindergarten mouths and gallbladder attacks, than teach middle school. Those teachers are a special breed, for sure.

Still, though. I’m having a moment here.

Oh! I wanted to share my latest theory, though. While standing in front of an open dryer yesterday, folding lots of tiny pairs of underwear, I conjured up this whole new scenario. I’m thinking, you know - I’m behind on dental cleanings. I didn’t make my last appointment, so now it’s been a good year since I’ve been to the dentist. Maybe I just have some crazy cavity? You know? Like, a complete abscess or something. Maybe I need a root canal, even. Maybe that’s the cause of my headaches, and maybe that’s what they’re seeing on the CT scan - just an abscessed tooth or something. Maybe if I just got my ass to the dentist, we could avoid all of this drama! Six more days until the MRI. And then, knowing Kaiser, it’ll be another six days before they tell me whatever they need to tell me.

I’m not sure what the point is of my writing today. I guess I just need this as an outlet, even with the knowledge that everyone and their uncle reads it. So, I guess I’ll just write a few short notes:

• Dear Kayley’s Math Teacher: I’m sorry my child doesn’t turn in her homework. I wish I could figure out what I need to do to get her to care about school. I’m just DONE trying to force her to do it. I’m not going to be there to sit next to her and force her to go to her college classes, and force her to show up at her job, and force her to balance her checkbook, so I really just feel like she needs to man up already. But if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.
• Dear Daughters: Please stop fighting, whining, leaving poop in the toilet, jumping from the dresser to the bed and scaring the crap out of me, and blowing off your homework. You can figure out which of this applies to you.
• Dear Son: I adore you, little monkey. Please stop screaming every five seconds. People keep staring at us at the grocery store, and I’m afraid in my current state of mind, I’m going to go all Mama Bear on somebody. (Or worse, on YOU.)
• Dear Husband who doesn’t read this anyway: One more day! One more day and it’s all over! 24 hours from now, you’ll be halfway through the exam. And may I just say, even though you’ve been gone a whole lot, and it’s all been falling on me lately with the children, what an awesome husband you are? Coming home late, missing dinner, not seeing the kids, your head on fire from all the Bernoulli equations and soil classifications, and still - STILL, you take ten minutes to rub my temples and ask about my day! You rock, and I miss you so much, and I’m so happy we’re going to get to hang out soon.
• Dear Thing In My Head: Please be something easily fixable, or something I can safely ignore for the next 40 years. xo

Okay. I think I’m ready to attack the day.

Kayley and I just had a very tense discussion about homework, and more specifically, TURNING IT IN. I don’t know why it’s so easy for her to send a thousand text messages a day, but so difficult to turn in her homework. Tears were shed by her and by myself as well. And I confiscated her phone. I’m debating whether or not to answer all her messages to Dylan, posing as Kayley. That’d just be mean, though, now wouldn’t it?

I’ve made a decision about the homework battle. It’s her baby now. She’s a quarter of the way through 8th grade and I’ve been dragging her by the nostril since the first week of 6th grade to turn her rubber duckin’ homework in. And I’m just done with it. I almost hope she flunks 8th grade, because I don’t see how she’s going to figure this nonsense out otherwise.

Not a lot of joy in the LaLa household this evening, I’m afraid.

Um. I had a sex dream about a guy I went to high school with. THANKS, FACEBOOK. Jeez. Woke up feeling all guilty and everything.

Also? I washed all the towels yesterday and forgot to get any out of the dryer for Paul. I’ll bet he was all kinds of pissed this morning when he got out of the shower!

I think I’m going to do something fun and crafty with the kids, since they have a mad case of UpTheAssItis. Oh my goodness, how are we going to manage being home from school until November 11th?

P.S. My kids really love that show Pinky Dinky Doo, but they call it Dicky Dicky Doo. Is it evil for me not to correct them, but instead giggle like a 12-year-old every time they mention it? Yeah. I know it is.

God, this blog is just a downer and a half lately, isn’t it? I know it is. I keep thinking I’ll sit down and write something that doesn’t involve headaches, gall bladder attacks, or the fear of dying, and then I just end up dicking around on Facebook or watching The Pickup Artist or something. I know. I’m boring, and I’m bringing this party down! Sorry about that.

We went to a birthday party yesterday for Paul’s niece. It was pretty fun. The kids had a blast running all over the place, getting their faces painted, and stuffing themselves full of candy. Things were a little low key, but it was nice getting out of here for a bit. I did take a few pictures of Paul and his brothers, since it’d been ages since all four had been in the same place all at once. Cute, aren’t they? I love how Paul and Jon look like the before picture, and Rene and Ruben look like the after picture. Like they just discovered Hoodia and waxing. S’okay. I like my man to look like a man. I’m not sure I’d dig the baby-smooth skin thing on anyone besides myself and my babies. Men are supposed to be hairy, y’know?

Today, Paul’s organizing the garage. The weather’s cooling off, and I think he’d like to start parking his van indoors. The kids are playing on Starfall.com and staging elaborate Beanie Baby play scenarios in the playroom. Kayley just bequeathed her entire Beanie Baby collection to the little kids, and they’re in heaven. I’ve been doing NOTHING. I cleaned the kitchen and did a half assed job sweeping the floor, and then I took a nap on the couch. Lazy!

Off I go, to do something, anything - I’m feeling pretty sluglike and need to at least throw a load of towels in the wash, so I can climb out from under the guilt of being a neglectful housewife. Blah. Hope you’re having a super Sunday!