I'd like to say that this is not a normal occurrence in my life, but it's true that by 11:38, unless there is a fire or an Amish neighbor has called me for a ride, I'm still in my room, making my bed, doing laundry (which is never, ever done), and reading my favorite blogs.
Today is no exception.
And here's the thing. I actually LIKE it this way.
So, this morning I've been visiting all of my most inspiring bloggy friends and hoping for a little treat from the wisdom that is in their heads.
As I mentioned, I popped over to Guilt-Free Homeschooling, and then I made my way down my blogroll.
Confessions of a Happy Houswife. This is a blog by a gal that happens to live about forty-five minutes from me, and she found my blog in this great blogging universe. I've come to realize that we are twins separated at birth. Hi, Shannon!
I skip the next couple, because I've read all of their stuff, and I'm in a hurry today, but Real Live Preacher is one of my favorite reads. I usually save him for after midnight, though.
I keep going to The Happy Homeschooler, but the blog is never updated. Am I missing something? I consider taking the link off of my blogroll, but I'm too lazy and too optimistic.
I skip down and just read the ones that have been updated, like School @ Home. I'm touched by Tenn's realization that her family's nutritional intake is slipping a bit. I can totally relate. We've been on a mission to change our eating habits. So far, so good. I say this even though I have not yet had breakfast this morning. It's in process, though. I promise. (Side Note: I just went to Tenn's Site again to link the above and I see that she has linked to my audio blog by The Baby. Thanks, Tenn!)
I skip on over to The Big Yellow House. Chris is one of my favorite bloggers. She's funny, she's smart, and I'm still waiting for my half of the best friends necklace from Target. Chris, did I ever mention how very young and thin you are?
And then (and here's where it gets very pitiful), I spent a good fifteen minutes shamelessly plugging my blog. I sent an e-mail to all of the people I love telling them to check out twenty four hours in the life of me. I only wish I were kidding.
Bard, my fifteen year old daughter, came in to say good morning. She insists on her twice-daily hugs, and many daily hugs in between. I love them. Every one of them. They remind me of something...ah, yes. Motherhood.
My dear fifteen-year-old daughter reads over my shoulder, and I explain what I'm planning to do today. She disappears for a while. When she returns, she announces, "I commented on your blog." She then chastises me for the misuse of the word "nonplussed."
"It means bewildered, at a loss for what to say, totally perplexed. Geeze, Mom. I'm surprised at you."
"Well, I meant it to mean that I didn't respond."
"You used it wrong. Might as well say, 'bemused' instead of 'amused.'" She rolls her eyes at me.
Bard helps me make my bed, reminding me that she'll be gone on a campout with her friend Kat starting tomorrow morning. She also mentions that she'll miss The Baby's birthday and asks if we can postpone it. Given my current financial state, I tell her, I may not have a choice.
Houdin comes in to harrass Bard. They run out of my room throwing good-natured insults at each other. I can tell that these are good-natured insults because they are both laughing. When the insults are bad-natured, only one of them is laughing. Moments later, she comes in and begins to questions Houdin's legitamacy.
"Did you *mean* to have Houdin?" She asks, her eyes narrowed with skepticism.
I laugh out loud. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, the way he is, it's like you didn't really mean to have him. I mean, look at him. He's nothing like the rest of the family. Are you sure he's really yours? Were you awake when you had him? Are you sure they didn't switch him? I mean, look at that weird eye thing that he does."
"What are you talking about? What weird eye thing?" I look at Houdin, who has just walked in the room.
"That weird eye thing. That thing where he opens his eyes and mouth really wide and the eyelids actually separate from his eyeball." Houdin demonstrates.
"No, he's ours. And yes, I did want him. I didn't mean to have him, but I wanted him."
I brush my teeth. I wash my face. I braid my hair and put on makeup. I don't do this every morning but, hey, I'm being watched today. The entire time I'm getting ready for my day, Houdin and Bard are sitting in my room, exchanging clever comments. Eventually, as it always does, the conversation turns to Homestar Runner. I actually snort a couple of times while I listen to their re-enactments.
I finally have had enough. Which really means that it's time for me to blog again.
"Go make some toast," I say.
"He should have to make it. He's the Cinderella," Bard says, pointing to Houdin.
"That means you're the evil stepfamily. All of them."
"No, not, because, see, it's backwards. He's the step-person and he's evil."
I actually have to count to three to get them out of my room.
