Three.

The next time a friend’s child turns three, I will send the parents a fifth of vodka and a catcher’s mask. Because that is necessary equipment. For you regulars who are awaiting my monthly letter to Roper, I have made the switch to quarterly letters, (Spoiler alert: he still wants me to buy a penis at the “penis store”. It is his opinion that I’m under-equipped and at a disadvantage.) but here’s a fix to get you through to next month.

6:14am Awakened by a small tyrant shouting an inch from my face, “Wake up, I want dinner!” Does his spit count as a shower?

7:03am Email to Toby…

Subject: Plumbing

Roper unwound an entire roll of toilet paper and put it in the toilet. On top of his poop. It’s piled higher than the seat. I don’t even know how to begin. Do we have a bucket I can put it all in?

Can I interject here? I think it was actually TWO rolls of toilet paper…and he didn’t use a single square of that paper to wipe.

12:34pm Phone call to Toby explaining Roper’s earlier garbled/proud/excited voicemail…

Yeah. He wanted you to know that he was hanging on the door handle of the car while standing on the tire (as I have repeatedly told him not to do) and the door swung open smashing the back of his head into the wall of the carport, while simultaneously smashing his face with the door. And then he dropped on the ground and hit the back of his head on the cement. *sigh* He’s fine. Disturbingly fine.

1:00pm Screamfest 2012. The critter has lungs…2026 Freediving World Champion? Is there any money in that? Because that would TOTALLY make today worth it.

2:28pm Email to Toby…

Subject: Mer

No, he’s not napping. Yes, I am drinking.

3:31pm Roper is standing on the coffee table wearing only his underpants (festooned with Tow Mater) shouting “I am a ROCK STAR!” and playing air guitar.

Is it so wrong that I’m working with headphones right now? We’re both still alive. I count that as a win. #WINNING

NaNoWriNOOOOO!

Well, that went to hell at an alarming rate. Remember that post about NaNoWriMo? Yeah, me too. Despite my best efforts to forget it.

The 50,000 words in a month didn’t happen. I wrote 25,000 words in half a month and then my brain exploded. It took the next two weeks to clean it up. The stains in the carpet were terrible.

Seriously, who chooses NOVEMBER for this kind of torture? Aren’t the holidays stressful enough?

I started November on a new drug for Fibromyalgia. In higher doses it’s used for heroin addiction. BONUS! I can take care of that problem, too. Two birds with one stone! I’m KIDDING…but not too much because I know heroin is a very serious problem. Please do not send hate mail about me being insensitive.

One side effect of the new drug is insomnia. Which goes along nicely with my already well-established insomnia. As it turns out, a double-dose of insomnia contributes largely to 2am panic attacks. PARTY AT THE STEERES! But, it reduces my pain dramatically, so I will continue playing Bejeweled in the middle of the night, while my heart beats out of my chest. But I won’t be in as much pain.

So, no sleep. Then the Little Man gets terribly ill and has to be rushed to the ER. And then I get sick. Nobody is happy, but there’s still a whole wall of words that need to be written. Who could I turn to?

As a stay-at-home working mom, I feel a little isolated. The working moms shun me because I’m sitting at home eating bonbons, and the stay-at-home moms shun me because I’m working and therefore can’t make the 7.34 playdates per week, and I’m obviously neglecting my child.

Little do they know, I’m doing both – eating bonbons AND neglecting my child. Mwahahahaaa!

Did I mention that all of my Christmas shopping and prep work in November because I work at my parents’ Christmas Tree Farm on the weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas? It’s great fun (seriously, check it out), but cuts into my typical weekend activities like showering, laundry and actually speaking to my spouse in person.

Oh, and in an effort to alleviate my Fibromyalgia symptoms, I had the most ridiculous dietary restriction ever. FINE, take away my dairy, wheat, rye, barley, legumes, corn, and some other stuff I can’t even remember. But NO ALCOHOL?  On top of NO HEROIN? Have you met my son?

Unacceptable.

I coped by taking on more work. I like working. I like feeling productive. It’s my therapy…and the reason I need therapy. So I’m also on the board of a non-profit. And in a writing group.  And an artist’s group. I’m not sure how I expected this to end in any way other than a massive brain explosion.

But, wait, there’s more! On top of all of that we’re STILL BUILDING A HOUSE. Yep, the same house we’ve been working towards for seven years. It’s going to be amazing when it’s done, but right now I can’t bring myself to type about it.

So, my brain exploded.

I’m waiting for it to grow back. They’re like lizards that can regrow appendages, right? Once it does grow back, I will resume the NaNoWriMo challenge.

To all of my supporters and to those who have talked me off the ledge a time or two, I thank you. And I lift a glass of alcohol in your honor. What? December is a new month, and the theme is “whatever it takes.” Cheers!