Wow, what I a liar I am, hey? We are no longer technically sick, but the effects of everything we’ve been hit with lingers on. Even better, yesterday the girls were sent home with a cheerful note from their preschool saying that the one disease they haven’t caught yet, the dreaded Hand Foot and Mouth Disease (couldn’t they have thought of something more creative?), is running rampant throughout the preschool. How lovely! Here’s another $200 for the disease of the month please!

Today we are lying around the living room like clubbed seals. I logged just four hours of sleep last night after the usual nonsense: a pissed off bladder from 10 to midnight (so much for the “not causing me problems anymore” report a couple of weeks ago), Saige having to pee at 11pm, a Saige nightmare at 2am, and Darcy completely soaking her bed at 4:30am. After which point she came into my bed, but I obviously wasn’t thinking too clearly…the snoring was non-stop until 7:30 when it was time to get up.

However! It looks like maybe the world’s forests can breathe a sigh of relief, because Saige was finally convinced to finish the other half of her potty training this week. She has been asking for a while now about when she can drive a car. Yeah, three years-old and already asking about driving. It’s cute, but she is totally serious, and has taken it upon herself to talk about my driving whenever we are out (”why do you have to wait for other cars all day?”). It was Bruce who ingeniously thought to put the two things together, her resistance to performing #2 on the potty and her fervent desire for a driver’s license. Just before he left he reminded her that Big Girls not only drive cars, but they don’t wear diapers for pooping. Bing!—went the lightbulb over her head. Which is not to say I haven’t had to do some post-daddy-time encouragement, but at least there’s no screaming about it anymore. I guess now we’re in the market for waterproof mattress covers, which sucks because they don’t breathe and it’s already insufferably hot.

They get really annoyed these days if I call them by their birth names. They’ve apparently decided I wrote the wrong names on the birth certificates, because the correct names are Mouse and Kitty Cat. This used to be more of a casual set of nicknames they came up with themselves, reserved for little episodes of cuteness, but now they no longer respond to their birth names whatsoever. Or if they do, it’s an irritated correction: “Mouse! (”I told you a thousand times mom!” It’s MOUSE!”), or “Kitty Cat!” They are amazingly consistent on this point of the new names. And it’s not just for us; everyone is held to the same standard. Preschool teacher, parents, friends, perfect strangers–Saige and Darcy simply do not exist. It’s MOUSE. And KITTY CAT. END OF STORY.

Received my first LaLa CD this week. I sent off my first trade with the liner notes because I am a sucker like that. Well really, what good are the liner notes to you once the CD has been shipped off? (Did I rip the CD before mailing? Not telling!).

Meanwhile, Bruce is on the other coast for a couple of weeks grading AP exams, and Miss C is in Europe. So the goal for the next little while is survival and not much else.

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Links
Kind of funny…in a sad way
Just looking at the URL, I thought this was something entirely different
Diamonds suck - Bruce has researched this and would agree wholeheartedly
Arrrrrrr! Gee, how long did that take?
The WiFi bunny is finally available in the U.S.! Yay! Now if only we had WiFi…