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3:30 a.m.

“Mom, can I sweep in your bed?”

“Fine, go to sleep.”

…

3:45 a.m.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Shhh. Go to sleep.”

“How do stickers get so sticky?”

…

3:55 a.m.

“Mom? Mom? Mama? Mom!?”

“Shhh. What?”

“How come you are always making that snoring sound?”

…

4:05 a.m.

“Mom?”

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

“These pants are going up my legs.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I hate these pants!!! They are going up my legs!” *starts kicking and flailing and crying*

“Shhh.”

…

4:20 a.m.

“Mama?”

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

“But Mama!”

“Shh.”

“Mama, my back is itchy.”

*scratch scratch* “Now go to sleep.”

…

4:45 a.m.

“Mom? Mama?”

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

“Just one more thing.”

“What?”

“I really don’t like it when you say SHH to me.”

“Go to sleep!”

6 Comments

Posted in sleep screw-ups

Tagged dont ask me why, go the f*** to sleep, pass me the nyquil, preschoolers with chest colds, she has the gunk in her trunk

1. There is no talking while watching Full House. If you talk while watching Full House, we will watch it again. Until you don’t talk. Which means we will watch it again. And again. And again.

2. When the sappy lesson-learning music comes on, nobody say “aw.”

3. No laughing. It’s not funny and I don’t get the joke.

4. You sit on your side of the couch, I sit on my side of the couch, and never the twain shall meet.

5. Remember that one time when Michelle did that cute thing?

6. Be quiet. It’s starting. Quick. Get up and dance on your side of the sofa! Shout the names! DJ! Stephanie! Uncle Jesse! Joey! Danny! Aw Michelle!

7. See #1.

1 Comment

Posted in just plain silliness

Tagged how rude, the show about the house, without rules there is chaos

As an XTREME SECRETARY, I am more than just a pile of sticky notes and five knuckles pounding electricity out of file cabinets. I am also — prepare yourself — the unit record retention coordinator for my area. This might sound like a highfalutin’ title, and rest assured: it is.

I attended a meeting with the other unit record retention coordinators. We watched a PowerPoint presentation that covered the basics, so we could go back to our areas and, well, retain records.

What is a record? That is an interesting question, and one that takes about an hour to answer, give or take a few cookies or so. (I had snickerdoodle and caramel chew.)

What is a record? Anyone? … Anyone? … Bueller?

Now, the end all of Record Retention is knowing what is a record and when a record can be delightfully shredded. Then, you simply record the volume of destroyed records in inches and voila, fill out the retention form in triplicate so it can be examined and…wait for it…filed away.

Imagine the number of “records” or files a university has. Imagine looking at all the files to decide whether or not the file should be kept or tossed, based on its value, its date, its confidential information. Then imagine measuring — with a ruler — the volume of to-be-destroyed records. Ain’t nobody got no time for that.

This is why we have created Record Retention Day, which occurs annually on the first Thursday of November.

Record Retention Day is like any other day at work, except on this day, you don’t do any regular work. You can only look at files and decide what to keep, toss, and measure.

The next day also will be a holiday, for rejuvenation of mind and spirit. It will be called Post-Record Retention Day. It will be a federal holiday, so everyone and the banks will be closed for the day, except for furniture stores and car lots, at which you will get some great holiday-inspired deals, like a GMC Sonoma extended cab with central port injection and an under-body shield package at 0% financing.

You get your sales slip from your holiday sale, you bring it to work on Post-Post-Record Retention Day. File it for three years as proof of mental rejuvenation under newly labeled file #568ACYEARXX RECORD RETENTION SALES SLIPS.

Happy Record Retention Day!

1 Comment

Posted in organization screw-ups

Tagged ben stein is kind of a jerk, it's that time of year again, xtreme

I recently traded in my Baggallini for a BIG purse. I don’t even think I can still call it a purse. A pocketbook? A handbag? No, this thing is just plain LUGGAGE.

Although Dumples has named it Jenna.

Jenna has a fantastic depth. I had to add 10 minutes to my daily commute to make time for the morning key hunt. There’s a few dollars for tolls in there, but forget about finding them; I had to reroute my trip instead. Pay by check? I know that checkbook is in here somewhere… And if rain blotches my glasses, I am doomed, because there is no way I could find my glasses cleaning cloth within Jenna’s ample bosom.

Here are some random things I pulled out of Jenna.

A pencil sharpener. This is to sharpen my pencil for sketching nesting dolls, which also often ride along in Jenna. The pencil sharpener, however, is only of use if I can find the pencil, which is doubtful.

It’s a flashlight and a flare. Does it work? I have no idea. Could I find it in a time of panic? Doubtful.

An extra pair of gloves. Because I spend a lot of time in North Dakota.

A tomato given to me by a coworker. Because Fargoans are sharers as well as great home gardeners. Hopefully the tomato and the pencil did not meet up.

Not one, not two, but THREE notebooks, of varying sizes. The nuclear one is for nesting doll ideas. The black one is for work notes that I will likely never read again. The tiny one is Chicken’s grocery list. It’s not a list of things to buy at the grocery store; it’s a list of items she SAW at the grocery store and wants to recreate at home.

I fit an 18-count box of Cafe Bustelo k-cups in there the other day.

In fifteen years, Jenna will accompany to my back surgery appointment. Because she’s not easy on the spine. Until then, she and I will fill up on secret peanut butter cups, paperback novels, and fast food napkins. And I’ll never find anything again.

4 Comments

Posted in organization screw-ups

Tagged chicken and dumples, things in my purse, tomorrow she will rename her Keena or Kella or Hingy, what precipitates back surgery

Setting: A chilly, overcast fall day, driving through Fargo-Moorhead, me and Dumples. Dumples wants to play I Spy, but I tell her that I can’t play because I am driving.

“That’s okay. I can play by myself.

I SPY WITH MY WITTLE EYE…something…white.

Is it the car?

Yep.

Uh, that was too easy.

I’m bored with this game.”

2 Comments

Posted in won't somebody please think of the children

Tagged games you can play by yourself, no you can't

Dumples is four today!

Every Wednesday and Friday she goes to preschool. Every Wednesday and Friday, she cries at drop off. At the end of the two hours, she has had a great time. Every Wednesday and Friday at dinner, I ask her what she did at preschool.

“I played wif Playdough,” she tells me.

“You sure play with Playdough a lot,” I told her. Better at preschool than at home. That stuff is crazy hard to get out of n