Bad Words

I do not like the word “fart”. There’s just something about it that I find off-putting. I have no idea why. Abby has never been allowed to say it. I’d always say, “We don’t say fart.” Abby picked up that sentence and loved saying it. After all, we can say the word we can’t say if we’re saying we can’t say it. Which brings me to the events of this afternoon.

We were driving from daycare to the store, and Abby says, “My friend said, ‘Hush your mouth up.’ But that’s not nice, so we don’t say that.” I told her that it wasn’t nice, and I’m glad she didn’t say it. So, of course, my daughter says, “Butthead is mean, and we don’t say that, do we Mama?” Again, I told her no. So, she says, “And we don’t say fart!” I’ve tried telling her that saying we don’t say fart is in fact saying fart, but she doesn’t believe me. Regardless, it’s incredibly adorable.

While we’re in the store, Abby asked why words are bad, and why she can’t say the bad words. Shopping, while answering philosophical questions is not the easiest thing I’ve ever done. So I’m trying to explain bad words, hunt down food, and get a very large number of mini muffins. It didn’t go well for me. I finally said, “Bad words are bad, and we don’t say them because they’re mean!” She accepted that answer for now.


NaNo Is Coming!

We’re well into October now. That means a few things:


  1. I’m working on pre-NaNo stuff. I don’t really have a story idea, but I do have a TON of characters to play with. Right now I’m mostly working on character profiles which I hate SO MUCH. I KNOW all this stuff about the characters, how the connect, how they interact, what they like and dislike. I just hate spending the time to write it all down.
  2. I’m working on non-profit stuff. We have a fundraiser in a couple of weeks that I’m trying to get stuff made for. I bought a TON of cotton yarn for washcloths and burp cloths. I can’t find any of it… I just have to remind myself that it will be fine.
  3. I’m making a halloween costume for Abby. Abby wants to be a ghost. She’s been convinced she wants to be ghost for a couple of months now. I’m strongly against her running around in a sheet over her head so I bought a long sleeved white shirt. I’m going to get her leggings and white shoes, too. I bought fabric to make a cape/poncho thing. I’m planning on painting her face white if she tolerates the face paint. We’ll see.


That’s my life in three points at the moment. I have some crazy thing at work in a couple of days that I’m freaking out over. I have random projects lying around that need to be completed. All I want to do is write at the moment.

I Hate Being Late

I can’t abide being late. It’s so bad that thirty seconds late will put me in such a state of anxiety and anger that I’m grumpy for the rest of the day. I get it honestly, though. My dad and his side of the family get antsy if they run late. And, as you all know by now, I like my plans, and I don’t like when those plans change. Thursday, not only was I running late, but my plans kept being changed.

It started in the morning. Dad had a sort of sudden trip out of town. He drove mom’s car, and I was supposed to take his car. It was time to leave, and Abby finally, finally had her shoes on. We’re at the door, and Abby started screaming that Nona was going to pick her up. I’m trying to get her calmed down and out the door. Finally, I just said, “Well go get her!” As it turns out, Mom-Nona-was driving us so she could take (one of) my aunts to the doctor. So, we’re running about 15 minutes late in the morning. I still manage to get to work on time.

Quittin’ time rolled around, and I called Mom. I know where Dad parks. I didn’t know where Mom would be. Well, as it turns out, she wasn’t even there. I stood in front of my building. 15 minutes later her and my aunt roll up. I hope in the car and off we go to daycare. Of course, ontop of running late, it’s dance day.

Abby is already dressed and ready to go. I get her loaded up, and, miraculously, we’re the first people there. I get her ballet shoes on her. Once her class starts, I have thirty minutes of sitting. I’ve been taking my computer and writing blog posts. Which I did, this is not that blog post, though. Mom took my aunt to the store to pick up a money order and was going to take her home, and then come pick us up.

When Abby’s dance class is over, my computer put up, and shoes changed, I call Mom. She’s still at the store. While they were there, my aunt decided to shop. She then decided to get in the longest, slowest line for a couple of items. Abby has about 10 minutes of calm behavior in her before her energy starts spilling out. 10 minutes pass, and Abby starts acting up.

I get outside and she screaming and hollering. I manage to distract her with a grasshopper. She spends the next 15 minutes chasing the grasshopper. Sorry, little bug, I never let her catch you. I hope you’re doing okay. Anyway, mom finally shows up, and she has my aunt. I get mom to drop Abby and me off at the store because I had to get some snacks for work. We check out, and there’s mom without my aunt.

Of course, at that point, Abby was done. She was tired. She was grumpy. She was hungry. She spent the 20 minutes home screaming her head off. I didn’t do much better. I took the tablet away from her for the night. She eventually calmed down and ate when we got home. We were in bed early Thursday night. It’s Saturday morning, and I’m still grumpy over it.