For Starters

2:30 and all I've managed to do today is chase the roofer (we had some shingles fly off the roof in a crazy storm this weekend... oh, and we have a leak) via telephone and now text (chasing him like an errant boyfriend... not that I ever had one) and shove-- literally-- some laundry into the machine.

The little one-- she's 3 months old, and we can call her Beans for the purpose of posting here-- has been kinda fussy today. She's grown into a not-so-fussy baby so I think it's just the slight head cold she has making her feel grumpy.

The bigger little one-- she's 3 years old, and we can call her Noodle for the above-stated purpose-- is at school. Dropped her off at 9 am. You'd think I could get more done in the day. I thought I could get more done in the day. Wait... can I check something else off the list? Let's see:

--put some (not all) dishes in the dishwasher
--make a sandwich
--ate aforementioned sandwich


And did some slight re-arranging of the little one's room. We just moved her into her own room. Soon it's asking for the car keys and going to the prom. Wait... we don't have a car. We live in Brooklyn and are holding out. I'd say we're trying to be green, but we're really just frugal. At the last possible second, we'll get one. I predict this is when we realize that flying to see my family-- with three tickets (four when the little one turns 2) and lawd knows how many checked-baggage items-- will be more expensive than driving there. And when my family says that we can no longer use travel hassle as the excuse for not being there sooner, Missy.

I used to have a job. A paying job. Now this is my job. Most jobs I've had previously left me personally unfulfilled. Okay, all of them. This is a job I love, even if the bosses are more exacting than any I've had previously. Plus, they are cuter and sometimes the older one lets me put her hair in pigtails. SOMETIMES. But, man, could we use an HR department. Or just an employee suggestion box. "I suggest you both take 3-hour naps every day / I suggest the little one learns to talk and tells me what-- what?!?-- she wants and I swear I will do it/ I suggest we magically make macaroni & cheese the healthiest thing that can be eaten and then, of course, eat that forever." I know these bosses would take umbrage, though; they're no dummies.

My dear husband comes home sometimes and, I think, wonders What the Hell She Does All Day. Though he's worked from home with the baby here, so he does know that it's a lot of some stuff and a little bit of nothing. He's a patient sort, for the most part. As long as the house hasn't burned down by the time he's home, he seems genuinely pleased to be here. So to reward his happiness-- and so that we have something to eat-- before it gets to be pick-up time at the older one's school, I will find my recipe for Chicken Provencal that needs to be prepped now so I can make it sometime around midnight. That will be a real thing I can check off.

Oh, wait. One other thing to add to the list:

--started a blog