The other problem with freelancing.

As everyone else I know has already received their tax refund and is finding creative ways to spend it, I am finishing up our taxes. We owe. A lot.

That's the problem with running your own business. When you do well, so does Uncle Sam. *sigh*

Give me a sick kid any day.

A few weeks ago, Munchkin had a stomach flu. He came, he saw, he puked on just about every surface in the house. But he was generally pretty happy and remembered to say "please" when asking for juice.

But yesterday, my husband had his wisdom teeth removed. Since then, he has lain around in a stupor and made it a point to tell me how miserable he is when I walk by. You know, right after he asks me to get him something, clean up something or fluff his goddamn pillow.

A few hours ago, I had to run out the door to get Munchkin to his therapy appointment. And so I asked my ailing husband to change the laundry. You would have thought I was asking him to run the Boston Marathon. He pouted, he whined, he reminded me of how much pain he was in.

I frickin' did the laundry a few days after I gave birth. I have no pity for him at all.

Can I ask a question?

Why the hell is CNN so much more interested in what Britney Spears is doing (which, by the way, pretty much consists of going to Starbucks, driving around and showing her hoo-ha) than in the actual issues that the potential presidential candidates are advocating?

Anyone? Anyone?

Back in the saddle.

It's been a while. Again. I appear to be an inconstant blog presence.

But I took some time away from my laptop to hug my kid a lot. To go on pre-deployment leave with my family. To read a book. And to try to make a dent in this never ending pile of boy laundry. Your normal stuff. But forgive me -- I ought not have left without even a "by your leave."

It won't happen again.

Mother-in-law, your name is passive-aggressive.

"So I had lunch with L.S. today. You know her."

"Ummm, L.S.?"

"Yes, she's married to N.S. You know her. She wore a green sweater to your engagement party."

"Ummmm..."

"She was one of my bridesmaids. You know her, you do."

"Okay. Was it a nice lunch?"

"Well, we had to cut it short. She's having family problems."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Her daughter and grandson moved back home. The daughter is going through an ugly divorce. Had a great husband -- lawyer or some such -- but she's just one of these cold women. More interested in her career than anything else and then couldn't hack it when her son came along."

"Oh, that's too bad. I hope that things get better."

"Well, L. can't leave them alone too long. You'd think the problem would be with the boy, that he'd have trouble adjusting. But no, not at all, it's the daughter. She's addicted to the Internet."

"What?"

"Yes, she neglects her son. He's two and he's barely speaking. He's always in front of the television. And all so the daughter can chat with people on the Internet. It's just disgraceful. Thank God L. is there to help make sure that her grandson is taken care of."