Finally, well, sorta...

CPT Dick has been told that the paperwork is in for his next assignment. Of course, we have no assignment instructions or orders. Or, even a timeline of when he will need to show up and/or take command.

So in theory, I guess we know where we are going now. But it doesn't make me feel any better because we're still technically in limbo-land. A place, but nothing else. Argh.

And, oh yeah, a demand from CPT Dick that I be FRG leader again. *sob*

I would totally bottle it.

So despite the fact that my son has not eaten much in the past few days, been running out of both ends despite that fact, waking up at night and skipping naps, he is so gosh-darn chipper. His coloring is good and he's a little fireball of energy.

But me? After a couple nights of being woke up 3-4 times and what seems like hours of clean-up duty, I am totally knackered.

Ahhh, youth!

More posturing.

Bill passed. President vetoed. The only interesting thing about this is to wonder what will actually happen next.

So there's hurling and then there is runsing.

My son's projectile vomiting has evolved into serious diarrhea and even more projectile vomiting. I was up all night cleaning up his bed, four sets of weather appropriate jammies, the floor around his bed, the toilet, the floor around and leading up to the toilet and his poor, wittle bottom.

Never let it be said that this kid is an underachiever.

Pearl is mean.

Apparently, people are up in arms over this video. They don't think that a toddler cursing is funny. C'mon, people, lighten up! It's a joke. And also, not unlike Saturday nights at our house. Except my husband won't let Munchkin wear a dress.

You thought it was bad, and then...

So last week, CPT Dick hit something with my car. No matter that it had just come back from the shop and was all fixed and pretty. It was dark out, he ran the front end into something, and whee!, the whole front of the car is broken. Including the A/C.

But while I wait for the parts to come in, I can still drive it. And I think, it's a gorgeous, hot, sunny day -- Munchkin and I should go to the playground! So I get him in the car, open the windows and get going.

And then, just as I pull into the park. He pukes. Great, solid gobs of puke that have cascaded down his front, into every nook and cranny of the car seat. And somehow after I cry a little, I get his clothes off without getting too much vomit in his hair and I do a precursory wipe of the car seat. I put down an old blanket so he won't be too wet and uncomfortable on the ride home. Of course, it's a nice blanket that I would rather not be pukey, but it's all I have.

But just as I'm ready to head home, he sees the slide. As if he's seeing that big, silver behemoth for the first time and he will die if he does not manage to climb it's laddery peak. The fact that he's naked save for a diaper is no deterrent. But I can't do it. Too many Moms there, too much judgment. So I return him to his carseat and he's none too happy about it. I don't blame him.

So we drive home. In my black car. That stinks of puke. And when I open the window, Munchkin protests because he's pretty much naked in a wet seat. So the windows are closed, the car is black, the sun is hot and that puke is smelly. And just as I think it can't get worse, I notice something. That? That smell? Oh yeah.

It was fish stick day at school. With Tartar sauce.

Breaking news: Iraq is fucked up.

Like, duh.

At least this one they can't blame on the military.

Here's my question: How can President Bush and Vice President Cheney -- especially ol' Dickie Baby -- get these kind of reports and still insist on staying the course? Does a positive outcome involve overspending, flushing medical waste down toilets and tens of thousands of dead?

On respective marriage roles.

"CPT Dick, have you seen those claim papers?"

"No."

"I had them on Friday when we went down to JAG. I just can't seem to figure out what I did with them afterwards. I don't even remember taking them out of the car but I've checked and checked and they are not there. Any ideas?"

"I have no idea, babe."

"Then can you maybe help me retrace my steps? What did we do after we got back on Friday?"

"Ummm, honey, whenever I need to retrace my steps I rely on you to remember that kind of stuff."

"C'mon, you can do better than that. This is important!"

"Exactly, which is why if I were in your position, I'd totally be calling my wife right now."

Read these books now.

On my trip, I actually polished off 6 books. I know it sounds like a lot but I had plane rides, airport layovers and evenings where I wasn't busy putting a kid to bed. Three of these books are must reads.

1. The Department of Lost and Found by Allison Winn Scotch. It comes out on 5/8 but I managed to get an advance copy. Wow. The novel is about a go-getting career gal named Natalie Miller who decides to re-evaluate a few things about her life after a breast cancer diagnosis. Though the premise sounds like a bummer, the book is not at all. Scotch manages to tackle the subject matter with humor, irreverence and a much-needed human face. If you want a fun read to restore your faith in the fact that people can change -- even when bad stuff happens to them -- pick up this book. And guys? This would be a great Mother's Day gift to some of the ladies in your life.
   
2. If I Am Missing or Dead by Janine Latus. Holy crap. This book blew me away. This is Latus' memoir about the murder of her sister, Amy, by Amy's live-in boyfriend. But it is so much more than that. It's a journey of self-discovery where Latus examines the way that she and Amy grew up, her own pattern of abusive relationships and finally finds the courage to break away. The book is not your run-of-the-mill navel gazing type memoir. It's powerful, written like a fast-paced novel and will totally grab you and not let you go long after you finish the book.
   
3. The Double Bind by Chris Bohjalian. I'm not sure how to describe this book without giving away the ending but I'll try. Laurel is a young social worker who finds a photo in the belongings of a recently deceased homeless person. The photo seems to be of her on the day that she was almost raped on a logging road in rural Vermont. The story follows Laurel as she strives to find out who this photographer was and how it might be related to the crime. This book was incredibly well-written with a twist that will leave you reeling. Check it out.

The bummer is now I'm out of books. Does anyone have any recommendations for me?

I am a bad blogger.

No, no. Please don't protest. I know it's true.

I'd like to say that I've been quiet all week because I didn't want to tell you all that I still don't know where we're going. But I used that excuse already when I had to explain to my mother why I haven't phoned her in *gasp* 5 days. And I can't say that there's been nothing in the news world that's collected my ire because there's just been so much inanity that I've been a walking, talking bad mood.

Except for that dude who cut off his own penis. That was just funny.

But the truth of the matter was that I was in New York City. By myself. With other adults who have similar interests. And having the opportunity to interact with people was exhilarating. But, dear readers, it was also a bit exhausting. Because I realized that when I'm out and about in the real world I manage to use up all my schtick on the folks right in front of me instead of saving it for y'all. And then when I sit down to the keyboard to write, I find myself spent. I'm guessing it has something to do with the large, animated hand gestures I tend to use when telling stories out loud.

So I'm sorry. But I'm back in the real world now. And since my toddler doesn't really give a crap about what a moron Dick Cheney is, I'm guessing I'll be back up to record postings soon.