It was only after the emails started pouring in that I realized what a sad, sorry deal I was offering you: Reveal your real, actual baby names to me! And in exchange I will tell you nothing! NOTHING!
The one thing Paul has made me promise about this blogging thing is that I won't use the children's names. At all. Not in the blog, not in an email. He hasn't even made me promise not to talk about our sex life or certain details of his anatomy (future post material!), but he did make me promise about the kids' names. Paul is a computer guy for his job and for his hobby, and he's worried that by having (a) five children and (b) twins, we are already (c) way too identifiable without me blabbing their real names.
But oh! You should have seen me sitting on my hands yesterday, trying to keep myself from telling every single person who emailed me! I even tried giving out freshly-minted pseudonyms that come closer to their real names than the English royalty names I've been using, but test subjects reported a 200% increase in tease. (Want the closer-to-real pseudonyms anyway? Owen, Riley, Clarissa, John, Aaron.)
Oh, shoot! I had like five other things I was going to mention, and now this names subject has put them right out of my head. Hm... I don't think anything was crucially important, but I hate that feeling of forgetting something.
Oh! Here's one! I'm not sure I mentioned that the SundryBuzz gig is a regular thing: I'll be posting there 2-3 times per week. Yesterday I reviewed a cookbook that contains recipes for things such as "Bitch Bar Bacon Swimps," "Fried Dill Pickles," and "Connie's Death-Corn Five." Tomorrow I'm going to do a holiday-related tip.
Paul and I caught ourselves actually looking forward to the long weekend. Paul was like, "I have Thursday AND Friday off!," and I was like, "Yay!," and then we suddenly realized what we were talking about here: not a four-day weekend of sleeping in and reading books and watching movies and avoiding stores, but rather four days trapped in a ranch house with five children and one bathroom and no place to go because everything will be either (a) closed or (b) so stuffed with bodies, it may as well be closed for all the good it would do us to try to go there. We have had children in the house for nearly NINE YEARS. When are we going to learn that vacation days are no longer vacationy?
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 2 of 2 - Last week I talked about the gifts we were getting/considering for Edward, who is turning 8 next month. This week it’s Elizabeth’s turn: not “girl gifts,” ...