it's possible that my head hurts because my brain is rotting

Tuesday, 9:48 pm: Peek at sweet sleeping children. Crawl into bed; think about how much I love sweet sleeping children and what a nice time I had snuggling with each sweet child at bedtime. Vow to snuggle more and yell less tomorrow. Fall asleep mentally drafting touching essay about how Charlie ends his bedtime snuggle by putting his arms around my neck and announcing, "You can go now! Try to get up! You can't do it!"

Wednesday, 5:59 am: Wake up just before alarm goes off with splitting headache of hangover proportions. Wonder how this is possible, as I haven't had any alcohol since Sunday.

6:23 am: Give up going back to sleep and get up to see what Henry is up to. Offer to read to him, assuming he will say no. Instead, he picks up The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy and heads for the sofa. Charlie gets up and joins us. Read entire chapter before making coffee. Wonder if I will live through the day. Rue the fact that the boys are both being polite and peaceful on a morning when I can't really enjoy it.

7:14: Serve breakfast outside, for a change of pace. Drink coffee. Try to hold head VERY STILL.

7:45 Shower. Dress (flowery skirt, white polo). Start laundry.

8:00-9:00: Boys watch Sesame Street. Change clothes (take off polo, put on green tank top. Take off green tank top, put on yellow tank top. Put on yellow espadrilles. Take off espadrilles and skirt, put on khakis that haven't fit recently. Khakis fit! Rejoice! Put espadrilles back on.)

9:04: Henry has epic meltdown over plastic Star Wars toy.

9:18: Announce, "Tantrum over! We're going to Starbucks. NOW. Stop crying, get up, and get in the car."

9:34: While trying to explain to Henry that if he holds his icewater by the LID, he will most likely drop it, spill substantial portion of venti drip (WITH CREAM) down front of pants. Fortunately, I miss the shoes, which are fabric and probably can't be cleaned. Swear quietly, but not quietly enough to avoid disapproving glare from woman waiting for half and half.

9:42: Watch, in horrific slow motion, as Charlie drops remains of blueberry muffin RIGHT ON MY SHOES. Breathe sigh of relief that, once again, the fabric is unstained. Stop Charlie from eating muffin off the sidewalk.

9:58: Instead of going to the grocery, go home to deal with coffee stain. Announce, "EVERYONE OUTSIDE!" Change clothes (white polo, orange capris, J Crew flip flops with little orange martinis--Tangier tartinis, perhaps?--on them). Pretreat pants and shirt. Leave message for lawn guy. Take three Tylenol; wash down with coffee.

10:17: Children decide that it's too hot out (dude, this is the coolest it will be ALL DAY) and go inside to put on their Halloween costumes and fight a space battle in Charlie's room. Finish coffee; lie on Charlie's bed and moan. Wonder if I will live through the day.

10:34: Decide that I'm tired of writing about how these kids are driving me berserk. Decide that it's YOUR turn to come up with content for this web site! Decide that Friday's post will be dedicated to answering your Very Important Questions About Stuff, or posting your Very Delicious Drink Recipies (alcoholic or otherwise). Feel headache beginning to lift already.

Okay, so! Send me your questions! Seriously! I know a lot about the eighteenth century and shoes and coffee, and I can make the rest up as I go, as that's pretty much how I got through graduate school. This could become a regular feature, if all goes well, although if we're going to do that, we'll need a clever title (feel free to suggest one). You can post your questions in the comments or e-mail me (the link is up on the right there, above the picture of the boys). And if I don't know the answer, maybe someone else will! How fun!

Now I have to go back to lying still and moaning . . .