Hi! My name is Chin, and this is where, to quote Jane Austen, I "run mad and as often as I choose."
I'm mother to two girls with too many names, wife to a Science nut, and owner of the clumsiest feet ever known to womankind. When I'm not blogging here, I plow through domesticity one burnt meal at a time.
… and homesick, and I spent most of today talking to these kids over the phone. I can’t wait for sembreak so they can come visit. It makes me laugh how, even though I’m several hundred air miles away, they let me bully them. Just today, I ordered them to be each other’s dinner date every Sunday.
“I’ll go broke taking out to Sunday dinners a girl who’s not even my girl friend!” my brother complained.
“Your ate will fund the date. She’ll add to your allowance, don’t worry,” said Wett, laughing.
I had to butt in on this, naturally. “Funding is applicable only to this girl. Where other girls are concerned, you’ll have to use your money.”
When the sister a.k.a Sunday date was informed of the arrangement, she balked. “Ngik. I don’t want to date Kuya.”
Several minutes and a little arm-twisting later, the two siblings who are on constant bickering mode agreed to meet at exactly 7pm, every Sunday.
See what I mean? I’m a horrid, horrid bully.
And, I miss these kids so.
Really, really miss these kids so.
I’ll go drown this sadness in queso real-flavored ice cream.
Every couple of weeks or so, I reach a point where I do so much fussing and thinking that my head implodes into itself. Well, kind of.
This implosion isn’t really all that dramatic: no fluids oozing out of my ears; no psychotic breaks; no Vegas weddings; no killing sprees (just shopping sprees and the conviction my life would be immeasurably better with jewelry making supplies as part of it) — unless we make killing mosquitoes count; no, not even a dramatic announcement that I’ve decided to change sexual preferences and intend to date only women from now on, thankyouverymuch. Read the rest of this entry »
This morning, I woke up early because I fell off the bed really early. I think I broke a hip bone; I’ve been walking around the house with an odd gait since I landed on the floor so ingloriously. Sometime during the night, the kids crept into our bed. By morning, they’d taken over so much space I ended up a crumpled heap on the floor. Did I mention we slept with a doll, too? Yes, Charlie’s doll named DOLL (hahaha!) mysteriously ended up on our bed, too.
I have this niggling suspicion this battle for territory will end badly. For me, anyway. Every night, the girls cook up as many reasons as they can to stay in our bedroom. I shrug away stories of winged creatures, mysterious noises, and walking furniture, naturally, but it’s getting harder not to be impressed by their excuses. These two are just too darned creative! A few days ago, Alex said they need to sleep on our bed because God told her to. Since when has the Lord Almighty been conversing with my daughter? I told her to keep it under wraps or they’ll burn her at the stake. Or in the kitchen, after they’ve marinated her in salt and vinegar.
So okay, I need a pretty bike, and some pretty girl friends to go riding around town with. No, wait. That’s not right. I already have pretty girl friends by the truckloads; they just don’t live here. I think I’ll go make an ad recruiting girl friends. Thus far, the only women my age that I have seen about town are full-time mothers and housewives, bankers, and teachers. This is why I haven’t made friends with anyone yet hereabouts. I can’t seem to “fall” into any demographic, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone who shares my interests.
First, I slammed the door on my finger. Then, I tripped on one of the huge slabs of marble near the garden, and ended up sprawled in the most humiliating way possible on the footbridge. Finally, I lathered gel on my face all because I’m an arrogant multi-tasker who thought she could scroll through a long list of keywords with her right hand, slap on gel with her left hand, and carry a conversation with two people at the same time. Now, my sinuses are acting up. I might have to beg off the socials later because I’m dead certain by 5pm, my nose will have turned into the size and color of a beautifully ripe tomato.
In case this isn’t clear to you just yet, there are two things that will always be true about me:
1. I talk and think at the speed of light.
2. I’m only graceful under very controlled circumstances, much like certain types of amoeba.
I think I’ll spend the rest of the day in bed so I don’t endanger my life and limbs more than I already have.
Hi! My name is Chin, and this is where, to quote Jane Austen, I "run mad and as often as I choose."
