<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951</id><updated>2011-07-08T06:07:02.999-07:00</updated><category term='disrupted adoption'/><category term='stress'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='tired'/><category term='personal space'/><category term='mopping'/><category term='struggle'/><category term='endurance'/><category term='loss'/><category term='not alone'/><category term='guilt'/><category term='change'/><category term='parenting'/><category term='grief'/><category term='crazy'/><category term='depression'/><category term='mantra'/><category term='kitchen'/><category term='lyrics'/><category term='hope'/><category term='time'/><category term='bike'/><category term='sleep'/><category term='transracial adoption'/><category term='toilet paper'/><category term='job'/><category term='Kid #1'/><category term='Spoose'/><category term='outdoors'/><category term='family'/><category term='snoring'/><category term='house'/><category term='zen'/><category term='vote'/><category term='bathroom'/><category term='ambush'/><category term='love'/><category term='work'/><title type='text'>Mopping at Midnight</title><subtitle type='html'>The crazy rantings of an overtired, over-cranky working mom.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-7310529222597246001</id><published>2009-11-14T00:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T00:51:15.711-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spoose'/><title type='text'>But it's so boring...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tokyocherie.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/funny-pictures-cat-sleeps-boring-meeting1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://tokyocherie.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/funny-pictures-cat-sleeps-boring-meeting1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the many years we've been together, Spoose has steadfastly refused to ask me about my day. Sometimes I will aggressively volunteer details, because if a spouse won't listen about sucky work stuff, who will?  It's Spoose's JOB.  I've asked why Spoose won't ask me how my day was (I ask about Spoose's day and listen to all the gory details.  Because it's MY JOB.).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer?  "I don't ask you how your day was, because you'll tell me.  And it's just too boring."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's think for a minute.  It's too boring to even hear about.  But I HAD TO LIVE IT.  The day that would kill someone with its narrative?  I was there.  It's my narrative!  I'll spare you all the CAPS I really want to use in this post.  But, srsly, folks.  If merely hearing about my day would kill someone with its boringness, how do I still live?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-7310529222597246001?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/7310529222597246001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=7310529222597246001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/7310529222597246001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/7310529222597246001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2009/11/but-its-so-boring.html' title='But it&apos;s so boring...'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4225485343031811093</id><published>2009-10-21T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T00:16:54.217-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guilt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transracial adoption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disrupted adoption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>and this is why we don't talk about it</title><content type='html'>Disrupted adoption.  It's a terrible thing, and more people have gone through it than you think.  It's a death in the family, at your own hand.  It's a Sophie's Choice, and nobody sees the war going on.  I still can barely express the toll it has taken on me and my family, over a year later.  And I understand how others simply cannot understand it. I really do.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many minefields in parenting.  Some are inherent in the business of parenting, and some are laid by other parents.  I got to sidestep the whole breastfeeding vs. formula debate by adopting and having all of 2 days to prepare for newborn twins. Formula!  Done!  Vaccinations?  Sidestepped -- while my kids were in foster status, the state chose for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life doesn't give freebies.  What I gained by having happy, healthy eaters that didn't mind being buckled in to carseats or going along wherever I did, was totally outweighed by a system that claimed to have the best interest of children at heart, and then systemically let one down every step of the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read Anita Tedaldi's story with great interest.  Where others are slamming her for being disassociated from her feelings, I know that you.cannot.handle.the.truth.  Yes, you. It's easier to pick apart her word choice or label her as being racially privileged than to comprehend what it must be like to open yourself to taking in a child that you cherish before s/he is even in your home, only to have it all go terribly wrong.  This happens more than people know, and not from any fault of the children (god, no!) or the parents involved.  I was jealous that Anita had a social worker HOLDING HER HAND and supporting her, where ours just tsked and told us "parenting is hard."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want to know why I don't give you all the gory details?  Read the comments here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.racialicious.com/2009/10/15/anita-tedaldi-and-guilt-privilege/"&gt;http://www.racialicious.com/2009/10/15/anita-tedaldi-and-guilt-privilege/&lt;/a&gt;.  I've been kicked enough, both by myself, the system, and so-called "friends."  I give Anita props for coming forward and opening the door to a truly dark, grisly world.  Call her names if you need to, but look a little deeper.  There's more there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4225485343031811093?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4225485343031811093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4225485343031811093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4225485343031811093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4225485343031811093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-this-is-why-we-dont-talk-about-it.html' title='and this is why we don&apos;t talk about it'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-8009172658340107679</id><published>2009-10-14T00:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T00:31:37.143-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hope'/><title type='text'>cautiously optimistic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/StV-RsszDRI/AAAAAAAAAD0/lVhYkZR6DL0/s1600-h/hope.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/StV-RsszDRI/AAAAAAAAAD0/lVhYkZR6DL0/s200/hope.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392354971367968018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny that I'd write this as my surroundings are both under attack by rainfall and earthquakes, but I'm kinda good.  Guilty for even writing it, and so way still haunted, but let's just say I'm better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how it all happened, given The Curse of 2008 and all that legal debt, but somehow we played the economy and had a little crazy streak of luck and bought our first house.  In a new town, without all the tragic memories.  (Which is also tragic in its own way.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Planning and executing the move and coordinating new house prep has given me and Spoose a new project that isn't about blame or sadness.  The twins are 3.5 years and are stepping up to having their own rooms and being in a new space.  It's smaller, but that's good for family intimacy and bonding.  And we're doing a lot of just that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to unfurl, slowly, creakily and oh so cautiously.  I find hope in the fact that I can unfurl without punishment.  I am grateful.  Haunted, daunted, but grateful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-8009172658340107679?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/8009172658340107679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=8009172658340107679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8009172658340107679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8009172658340107679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2009/10/cautiously-optimistic.html' title='cautiously optimistic'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/StV-RsszDRI/AAAAAAAAAD0/lVhYkZR6DL0/s72-c/hope.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1863739604026988657</id><published>2009-04-08T17:05:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T17:07:43.046-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tired'/><title type='text'>zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</title><content type='html'>Well.  I guess they've updated the firewall at work.  I can post text, but no images.  Too bad -- the one I would've added is this one:  &lt;a href="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/funny-pictures-cleaning-is-very-hard.jpg"&gt;http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/funny-pictures-cleaning-is-very-hard.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1863739604026988657?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1863739604026988657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1863739604026988657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1863739604026988657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1863739604026988657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2009/04/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.html' title='zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-8159634841610154621</id><published>2009-03-04T21:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T21:32:26.665-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spoose'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>The Invitation</title><content type='html'>So I'm trying to write my way through all of this stuff.  I put together a timeline of all the stuff that's gone down, starting from my decision to become a parent.  It was 3 pages long.  I put Table of Contents at the top of it because that's what it looked like.  I always thought I had a book in me, but I never thought it would be about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My insurance-covered therapy sessions ran out, so I thought I'd try the DIY journaling approach and see if I could keep the momentum going.  I gave myself permission to write through the TOC in whatever order it came to me, and I guess tonight was writing about pets that are no longer with us.  They were some good little critters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across this, which I sent to Spoose early on.  It's still what I want and need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Invitation"&lt;br /&gt;Mountain Dreamer&lt;br /&gt;...an Indian Elder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me how old you are.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.&lt;br /&gt;I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-8159634841610154621?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/8159634841610154621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=8159634841610154621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8159634841610154621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8159634841610154621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2009/03/invitation.html' title='The Invitation'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4598831724787608647</id><published>2009-02-10T11:45:00.007-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T12:07:16.923-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crazy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>puttin' on the fritz</title><content type='html'>Someone wrote to Cary Tennis with a dilemma that sounds an awful lot like me. Except, in my competitive way, I felt smug that my list of loss and trauma was longer. (I have to take pride in &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt;, don't I?) &lt;a title="http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2009/02/06/jehovah/index.html?source=" href="http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2009/02/06/jehovah/index.html"&gt;http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2009/02/06/jehovah/index.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was annoyed that Cary just actively listened, but didn't give the reader any concrete advice. Bah. Give me a rosary or a set of exercises or a recipe or something. Don't just tell me to look within and it will take time. I want a quick fix, dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just starting to understand how recovering from the events of 2008 is going to be more of a marathon than a sprint. Which makes sense, considering it was a big undertaking to get this &lt;a href="http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/05/broken.html"&gt;broken&lt;/a&gt;. I'll just have to pace myself. And make a sign to warn passersby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4598831724787608647?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4598831724787608647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4598831724787608647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4598831724787608647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4598831724787608647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2009/02/puttin-on-fritz.html' title='puttin&apos; on the fritz'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-8095176219363355292</id><published>2008-12-30T14:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T14:05:11.679-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>soundtrack</title><content type='html'>cowgirls don't cry&lt;br /&gt;ride, baby, ride&lt;br /&gt;lessons in life are going to show you in time&lt;br /&gt;soon enough you're gonna know why&lt;br /&gt;it's gonna hurt every now and then&lt;br /&gt;if you fall, get back on again&lt;br /&gt;cowgirls don't cry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-8095176219363355292?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/8095176219363355292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=8095176219363355292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8095176219363355292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8095176219363355292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/12/soundtrack.html' title='soundtrack'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4618322944994516736</id><published>2008-11-04T10:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T10:03:50.296-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vote'/><title type='text'>every vote matters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SRCOYkWDD_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/0I6wruRUimc/s1600-h/Ivoted.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264864517120266226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SRCOYkWDD_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/0I6wruRUimc/s320/Ivoted.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4618322944994516736?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4618322944994516736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4618322944994516736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4618322944994516736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4618322944994516736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/11/every-vote-matters.html' title='every vote matters'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SRCOYkWDD_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/0I6wruRUimc/s72-c/Ivoted.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-3963566009895448849</id><published>2008-10-19T22:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T22:49:24.868-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mantra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zen'/><title type='text'>Mantras</title><content type='html'>It usually drives me crazy when MOrons honk their horns for no discernible reason...  like being in a tunnel or  backed-up traffic.  It's one of those things that will take me from Zen to road rage in about 2 seconds.  To counteract this, I made it silly (see: all those photos of empty toilet paper rolls).  When I hear needless honking, I sing this little mantra in my head:  "Honking makes everything better."  And it keeps my blood from boiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given the loss tally, something clearly had to be done.  These are my new mantras.  I repeat whichever one is applicable every time I'm about to lose my sh*t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  It is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  It takes how long it takes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between the two of them, they cover a lot.  And they are not in the least bit silly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-3963566009895448849?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/3963566009895448849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=3963566009895448849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3963566009895448849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3963566009895448849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/10/mantras.html' title='Mantras'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1701946366361452389</id><published>2008-10-09T09:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T09:51:51.721-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>even the kitchen sink</title><content type='html'>For those of you keeping score at home, here's the loss/trauma tally for the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;reached $60,000+ in legal fees&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stressful, stressful job that may or may not be relocated&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kid #1 adoption disrupted&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Co-worker passed away after a long illness&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;E.R. trip for both twins at once&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cat #3 passed away&lt;br /&gt;(cats #1-2 went last year and the year before that)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;E.R. trip for Little Guy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Aunt P's house lost in hurricane Ike&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;repairs needed for car #1&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cat #4 passed away, leaving us cat-less &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;repairs needed for car #2&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;cool neighbors moved away&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Little Girl got a bug bite on her face, which swelled up like a balloon on one side&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm starting a new job at the end of the month&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kitchen sink faucet replaced&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1701946366361452389?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1701946366361452389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1701946366361452389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1701946366361452389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1701946366361452389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/10/even-kitchen-sink.html' title='even the kitchen sink'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-202059512461163039</id><published>2008-09-26T23:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T23:17:38.619-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet paper'/><title type='text'>just same</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SN3P0DMFC6I/AAAAAAAAADI/1lg0zXNO8nU/s1600-h/09-22-08_1830.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SN3P0DMFC6I/AAAAAAAAADI/1lg0zXNO8nU/s320/09-22-08_1830.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250581233699982242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Lest you think this has gotten better with everything that's been going on...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-202059512461163039?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/202059512461163039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=202059512461163039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/202059512461163039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/202059512461163039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/09/just-same.html' title='just same'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SN3P0DMFC6I/AAAAAAAAADI/1lg0zXNO8nU/s72-c/09-22-08_1830.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-551852906991183831</id><published>2008-09-26T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T11:58:27.648-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyrics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>same but different</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love Remains The Same&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;lyrics by Gavin Rossdale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thousand times i've seen you standing&lt;br /&gt;gravity like a lunar landing&lt;br /&gt;make me want to run till i find you&lt;br /&gt;shut the world away from here, drift to you, you're all i hear&lt;br /&gt;everything we know fades to black&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;half the time the world is ending, truth is i am done pretending&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never thought that i had any more to give&lt;br /&gt;pushing me so far here i am without you&lt;br /&gt;drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made&lt;br /&gt;everything will change, love remains the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;find a place where we escape&lt;br /&gt;take you with me for a space&lt;br /&gt;a city bus that sounds just like a fridge&lt;br /&gt;walk the streets through seven bars&lt;br /&gt;i had to find just out where you are&lt;br /&gt;the faces seen to blur they're all the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;half the time the world is ending, truth is i am done pretending&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never thought that i had any more to give&lt;br /&gt;you're pushing me so far here i am without you&lt;br /&gt;drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made&lt;br /&gt;everything will change, love remains the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so much more to say, so much to be done&lt;br /&gt;don't you trick me out, we shall overcome&lt;br /&gt;cause our love stays ablaze&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we should have had the sun&lt;br /&gt;could have been inside&lt;br /&gt;instead we're over here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;half the time the world is ending, truth is i am done pretending&lt;br /&gt;too much time to love defending, you and i are done pretending&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never thought that i had any more to give&lt;br /&gt;you're pushing me so far here i am without you&lt;br /&gt;drink to all that we have lost, mistakes that we have made&lt;br /&gt;everything will change, everything will change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, i&lt;br /&gt;this could last forever&lt;br /&gt;oh, i&lt;br /&gt;we could last forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love remains the same&lt;br /&gt;love remains the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-551852906991183831?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/551852906991183831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=551852906991183831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/551852906991183831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/551852906991183831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/09/same-but-different.html' title='same but different'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-3322442640223365164</id><published>2008-09-17T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T23:18:26.132-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet paper'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal space'/><title type='text'>gaslighting</title><content type='html'>From &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaslighting"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;"Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse. It involves an increasing frequency of systematically withholding factual information from, and/or providing false information to the subject, having the gradual effect of making the victim anxious, confused, and less able to trust his or her own memory and perception. &lt;strong&gt;A variation of gaslighting, used as a form of harassment, is to subtly alter aspects of a victim's environment, thereby upsetting his or her peace of mind, sense of security, etc."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joke sometimes that I have "Helen Keller syndrome," which is a made-up term (I think) for my need to know that things will be as I left them, especially as I'm creeping around in dark bedrooms and am expecting a clear surface to put my glasses on, or am surprised by a stack of something piled in an area that was empty the last time I was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think Spoose is deliberately trying to harass me, but this happens constantly.  I've mentioned it a zillion times, but Spoose DOES NOT GET IT.   I'll go to the bathroom, wipe down the sink and counter, and go off to do something else.  I'll leave for work with my side of the bed made up, surfaces clear, laundry put away.  I come home, and the bathroom is a sloppy disaster (and usually out of T.P.), there are bills and used tissues (!) on my dresser and desk, there are stacks of laundry in odd spots, or unfolded laundry strewn all over the bed.  If Spoose is lying down, it's on &lt;u&gt;my side&lt;/u&gt; of the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not Felix Unger (yet).  I just want a little order in my life.  I don't think it's too much to ask that I have 1-3 feet of personal space in the entire house that are unviolated.  Especially if it makes it quieter when I creep into bed after mopping in the wee hours of the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-3322442640223365164?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/3322442640223365164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=3322442640223365164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3322442640223365164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3322442640223365164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/09/gaslighting.html' title='gaslighting'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1381715508874182614</id><published>2008-09-11T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T11:58:03.655-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ambush'/><title type='text'>I'll take it as a compliment</title><content type='html'>I was telling a friend about a drive-by from a coworker that left us both rattled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is very well-meaning, but somewhat obtuse.   People who know me at all know that I don't like being surprised by unannounced visits that leave me on the spot.  Clueless Coworker showed up and insistied I really tell her HOW AM I? and WHAT's NEW?  So I unleashed my recent events on her.  Then I felt bad when she was stunned and didn't know what to say, and I had to kick her out so I didn't start crying and never stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All very awkward and why I hate being amushed at my desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend's response to this?  "You do have a matter-of-fact approach to sharing bad news that can be startling to the uninitiated."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it!  Am I a freak?  Go ahead, ask me how I'm doing...  heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1381715508874182614?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1381715508874182614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1381715508874182614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1381715508874182614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1381715508874182614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/09/ill-take-it-as-compliment.html' title='I&apos;ll take it as a compliment'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-5655593832353682724</id><published>2008-08-31T00:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T00:52:46.815-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kid #1'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>aftershocks</title><content type='html'>From &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Aftershocks are dangerous because they are usually unpredictable, can be of a large magnitude, and can collapse buildings that are damaged from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mainshock&lt;/span&gt;. Bigger earthquakes have more and larger aftershocks and the sequences can last for years or even longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have gone ahead and disrupted the adoption of Kid #1.  This is a controversial topic, like breastfeeding vs. formula or abortion vs. pro-life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This placement failed because we were not prepared for the special needs Kid #1 was likely to have, and were not linked with one goddamn service or a shred of respite to help us withstand any of it.  Add twins and an expensive, epic legal struggle to keep Kid #1 in our family, and we are burnt out, lacking of any hope, and cowering against any additional blows that may befall us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We so sincerely hope that Kid #1 gets the help he needs, the family he deserves, and the peace he requires to succeed.  We know he cannot prevail in our house, and it is as awful as you might imagine.  Breaking up with a 4-year old that cannot understand "it's not you, it's me" sucks more than you will ever know.  It may well kill me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-5655593832353682724?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/5655593832353682724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=5655593832353682724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/5655593832353682724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/5655593832353682724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/08/aftershocks.html' title='aftershocks'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-618426701587630127</id><published>2008-08-21T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T14:52:05.461-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>words of wisdom</title><content type='html'>From my wise friend Anne:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"At least the craziness and heartache and bullshit of being a parent is the most worthwhile kind of crap. It sure beats the bullshit of working and the heartache of dealing with idiots who aren't your beloved family."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the same friend that advised me to go on a soul-searching journey when I was between jobs.  "What you have now is time.  You can always get more money, but you can't get more time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone should have this kind of friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-618426701587630127?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/618426701587630127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=618426701587630127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/618426701587630127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/618426701587630127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/08/words-of-wisdom.html' title='words of wisdom'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1768211051856161817</id><published>2008-08-21T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T10:46:10.732-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>fault lines</title><content type='html'>Bad things happen when there are faults and pressure.  Stress builds up within the system, and eventually something has to give, usually with disastrous results.  A system can only withhold so much stress before something must shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     If we're talking land masses, you end up with an earthquake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     If we're talking family, someone gets sick, hurt, or upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are teams of scientists around the world trying to measure just how much stress will trigger an event and what the outcome will be.  They also try to predict when and where the next seismic event will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your family is fortunate enough to have experts working with you, they can help predict how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;stressors&lt;/span&gt; will impact family members and work to reduce the stress upon the family unit, member by member.  The planet does not have this advantage.  Nor does my family, despite our best efforts to be pro-active.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm no expert, but I see disaster looming for my family.  We're having all kinds of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;emptive&lt;/span&gt; quakes, and all I can do is clean so we'll have a decent place to duck and cover.  This is not enough, and knowing this is an awful place to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1768211051856161817?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1768211051856161817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1768211051856161817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1768211051856161817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1768211051856161817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/08/fault-lines.html' title='fault lines'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-6645234237065239042</id><published>2008-07-17T09:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T09:11:58.094-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>Weekend Tally</title><content type='html'>Time alone in hotel room = 15 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     sitting on balcony with whiskey = 1 hr&lt;br /&gt;     sleeping = 10 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     shower/primping = 2 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     surfing internet = 1.5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     drinking coffee, reading gossip mag = .5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got home...&lt;br /&gt;     time on Kid #1's floor during "not nap" = 1.5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     eating b-day cake with family = .5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     doing lunch and cake dishes = .5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     playing outside with kids = 1 hr&lt;br /&gt;     prep dinner = .5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     baths = 1.25 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     grocery shopping (plus bonus fill up car) = 1.5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     partial unpacking from overnight = 5 min&lt;br /&gt;     dinner/TV = 2 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     doing dinner dishes &amp;amp; load of laundry = .5 hrs&lt;br /&gt;     sweeping/mopping = .75 hr&lt;br /&gt;     bedtime = 2am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-6645234237065239042?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/6645234237065239042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=6645234237065239042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6645234237065239042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6645234237065239042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/07/weekend-tally.html' title='Weekend Tally'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1118413809718617665</id><published>2008-07-17T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T09:09:27.437-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crazy'/><title type='text'>Here's a little snapshot of my mental state....</title><content type='html'>I put Kid #1 to bed last night, called my brother, and started thinking about dinner. I wasn't very hungry, but figured this was due to my cramps. I cooked a 1-handed dinner, which was almost ready when Spoose emerged from the twin bedtime vigil.  Spoose saw I was on the phone and went off to do something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spoose didn't come back for a long time, and I was still on the phone.  I motioned to start eating. This is when Spoose looked at me like I was an insane person and reminded me that we had ALREADY HAD DINNER. We had eaten fast food with the kids when I got home.  Doh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1118413809718617665?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1118413809718617665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1118413809718617665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1118413809718617665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1118413809718617665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/07/heres-little-snapshot-of-my-mental.html' title='Here&apos;s a little snapshot of my mental state....'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1426234240089418097</id><published>2008-06-25T19:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T19:40:00.950-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet paper'/><title type='text'>Bingo!</title><content type='html'>I came home the other day to a perfect bingo -- both bathrooms with empty TP rolls. Huzzah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SGMBTkkZxfI/AAAAAAAAACM/-YAQJ-uX4Ak/s1600-h/06-16-08_1831.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SGMBTkkZxfI/AAAAAAAAACM/-YAQJ-uX4Ak/s320/06-16-08_1831.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216014229170669042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SGMBTrnLGtI/AAAAAAAAACU/t9IyZaM95og/s1600-h/06-16-08_1834.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SGMBTrnLGtI/AAAAAAAAACU/t9IyZaM95og/s320/06-16-08_1834.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216014231061338834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1426234240089418097?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1426234240089418097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1426234240089418097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1426234240089418097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1426234240089418097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/06/bingo.html' title='Bingo!'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SGMBTkkZxfI/AAAAAAAAACM/-YAQJ-uX4Ak/s72-c/06-16-08_1831.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-6647433849494362233</id><published>2008-06-19T01:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T01:03:01.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're Gonna Miss This</title><content type='html'>Makes me tear up every time I hear it, no matter where I am or what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You're Gonna Miss This&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trace Adkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was staring out the window of their SUV&lt;br /&gt;Complaning, saying "I can't wait to turn 18"&lt;br /&gt;She said "I'll make my own money, and I'll make my own rules"&lt;br /&gt;Mamma put the car in park out there in front of the school&lt;br /&gt;Then she kissed her head and said "I was just like you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna miss this&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna want this back&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast&lt;br /&gt;These are some good times&lt;br /&gt;So take a good look around&lt;br /&gt;You may not know it now&lt;br /&gt;But you're gonna miss this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before she knows it she's a brand new bride&lt;br /&gt;In a one-bedroom apartment, and her daddy stops by&lt;br /&gt;He tells her "It's a nice place"&lt;br /&gt;She says "It'll do for now"&lt;br /&gt;Starts talking about babies and buying a house&lt;br /&gt;Daddy shakes his head and says "Baby, just slow down"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause you're gonna miss this&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna want this back&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast&lt;br /&gt;These are some good times&lt;br /&gt;So take a good look around&lt;br /&gt;You may not know it now&lt;br /&gt;But you're gonna miss this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five years later there's a plumber workin' on the water heater&lt;br /&gt;Dog's barkin', phone's ringin'&lt;br /&gt;One kid's cryin', one kid's screamin'&lt;br /&gt;And she keeps apologizin'&lt;br /&gt;He says "They don't bother me.&lt;br /&gt;I've got 2 babies of my own.&lt;br /&gt;One's 36, one's 23.&lt;br /&gt;Huh, it's hard to believe, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna miss this&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna want this back&lt;br /&gt;You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast&lt;br /&gt;These are some good times&lt;br /&gt;So take a good look around&lt;br /&gt;You may not know it now&lt;br /&gt;But you're gonna miss this&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-6647433849494362233?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/6647433849494362233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=6647433849494362233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6647433849494362233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6647433849494362233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/06/youre-gonna-miss-this.html' title='You&apos;re Gonna Miss This'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-335026655394251792</id><published>2008-06-10T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T15:37:35.281-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet paper'/><title type='text'>Still always my turn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SE8CBhUVsyI/AAAAAAAAACE/A0zoXS2XrkA/s1600-h/06-04-08_1833.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210385519037756194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SE8CBhUVsyI/AAAAAAAAACE/A0zoXS2XrkA/s320/06-04-08_1833.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I especially like the little TP dregs hanging from this one.  It adds a special something, don't you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-335026655394251792?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/335026655394251792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=335026655394251792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/335026655394251792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/335026655394251792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/06/still-always-my-turn.html' title='Still always my turn'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SE8CBhUVsyI/AAAAAAAAACE/A0zoXS2XrkA/s72-c/06-04-08_1833.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4298413051026831376</id><published>2008-06-09T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T17:20:18.068-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mopping'/><title type='text'>Coulda used this last night...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.chipchick.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/robomophk-300x225.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.chipchick.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/robomophk-300x225.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello Kitty will now robo-mop my house!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.chipchick.com/2008/06/hello_kitty_robomop_is_the_bastard_child_of_swiffer_and_irobot.html"&gt;http://www.chipchick.com/2008/06/hello_kitty_robomop_is_the_bastard_child_of_swiffer_and_irobot.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4298413051026831376?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4298413051026831376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4298413051026831376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4298413051026831376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4298413051026831376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/06/coulda-used-this-last-night.html' title='Coulda used this last night...'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-2603029702915085380</id><published>2008-05-29T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T11:25:39.075-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mopping'/><title type='text'>Another use for the ole mop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SD71HJJADJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Blx6cinsbf0/s1600-h/mop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205867722348432530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SD71HJJADJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Blx6cinsbf0/s320/mop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.parenthacks.com/2008/05/use-a-sponge-mo.html"&gt;http://www.parenthacks.com/2008/05/use-a-sponge-mo.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-2603029702915085380?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/2603029702915085380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=2603029702915085380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/2603029702915085380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/2603029702915085380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/05/another-use-for-ole-mop.html' title='Another use for the ole mop'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SD71HJJADJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Blx6cinsbf0/s72-c/mop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4507558945461918662</id><published>2008-05-28T09:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T09:30:35.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote from the boat</title><content type='html'>On the ferry today, there was a big school field trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crew announced, "Please keep your voices at acceptable levels.  Most of the people on this boat are commuters, and if they wanted to hear a lot of screaming, they would have worked from home." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4507558945461918662?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4507558945461918662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4507558945461918662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4507558945461918662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4507558945461918662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/05/quote-from-boat.html' title='Quote from the boat'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-8911631134689546302</id><published>2008-05-20T15:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T15:07:36.805-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='struggle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='endurance'/><title type='text'>Broken</title><content type='html'>When I did the AIDS Ride from SF to LA, I was amazed at how much my body could do, that I had no idea was possible until I actually did it. I was amazed at the triumph of other riders -- one guy had NO LEGS and pedaled a special bike with his arms. Another blind rider rode in tandem with his wife. When I struggled up 10-mile hills, I was inspired by some really heavy riders, also struggling up the hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, I guess at some point, I'll look back on this era and be inspired by my flailing about. I keep thinking it's all too much to bear, but bear it I do. Not gracefully and without complaint, but I'm still here. I'm learning new meanings/nuances for "broken." I used to think of it as shattered shards as a result of a big impact. Now I'm understanding how broken can happen over time, like erosion, or slow crushing weight, or pieces just falling away like old paint. It will be interesting to see what the end result turns out to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-8911631134689546302?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/8911631134689546302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=8911631134689546302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8911631134689546302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/8911631134689546302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/05/broken.html' title='Broken'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-1559767055601567128</id><published>2008-05-19T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T14:53:41.639-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snoring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mopping'/><title type='text'>Logs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SDH2i4Rp_wI/AAAAAAAAABY/kSNZUjIYQzA/s1600-h/logpile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202210123672059650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SDH2i4Rp_wI/AAAAAAAAABY/kSNZUjIYQzA/s320/logpile.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe somebody can tell me why a sleeping person will suddenly start snoring the minute you join them in bed and try to fall asleep... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I can't fall asleep after a full weekend that ended with a mopping session at 1am, new earplugs in my ears, a pillow over my head, and a dose of nighttime cold medicine in my belly because of snoring, it must be loud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-1559767055601567128?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/1559767055601567128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=1559767055601567128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1559767055601567128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/1559767055601567128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/05/logs.html' title='Logs'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SDH2i4Rp_wI/AAAAAAAAABY/kSNZUjIYQzA/s72-c/logpile.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-560321352234488831</id><published>2008-05-06T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T09:37:46.436-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kid #1'/><title type='text'>Vacation's all I ever wanted...</title><content type='html'>We managed to find people to watch all 3 kids so we could get away for a weekend.  We sure hoped that it would make a big difference in stress levels, sleep deprivation, our relationship, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did get some stuff off our respective chests and got huge chunks of delicious sleep.  We ate well.  I read an entire book in one sitting.  We did not miss our crazy home life a bit.  We had our 3rd brunch alone since we've had kids.  We walked on the beach and took artsy photos.  There was no cell phone reception, so we just hoped all was well, and sat in the hot tub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we felt more grounded at the end of it and a little more sane, but it didn't bring us back to 100%.  Maybe way up to 30%.  Which is something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we picked up the kids and got settled back into our regular life pretty quickly.  Kid #1 was such a piece of work that we were back in the negative % range right after bedtime.  Ah, parenting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-560321352234488831?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/560321352234488831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=560321352234488831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/560321352234488831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/560321352234488831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/05/vacations-all-i-ever-wanted.html' title='Vacation&apos;s all I ever wanted...'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-3912131510450097901</id><published>2008-04-29T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T19:40:02.322-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet paper'/><title type='text'>Turning Resentment into Art</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SBfb50eEC2I/AAAAAAAAABI/09G5D0xE2qM/s1600-h/04-07-08_1821.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SBfb50eEC2I/AAAAAAAAABI/09G5D0xE2qM/s200/04-07-08_1821.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194862481578920802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SBfb6UeEC3I/AAAAAAAAABQ/I4HVLv2RZP0/s1600-h/04-15-08_1822.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SBfb6UeEC3I/AAAAAAAAABQ/I4HVLv2RZP0/s200/04-15-08_1822.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194862490168855410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me mad, so let's try to spin it so it makes me laugh.  Or at least not mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4-07-08                                                        4-15-08&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-3912131510450097901?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/3912131510450097901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=3912131510450097901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3912131510450097901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3912131510450097901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/turning-resentment-into-art.html' title='Turning Resentment into Art'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/SBfb50eEC2I/AAAAAAAAABI/09G5D0xE2qM/s72-c/04-07-08_1821.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4574490169455235254</id><published>2008-04-11T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T13:14:09.714-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not alone'/><title type='text'>I Always Feel Like...  Somebody's Watching Me....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/R__EgkTZMVI/AAAAAAAAAAw/2utk5EwKbfc/s1600-h/surveillance_big.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188081359533977938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/R__EgkTZMVI/AAAAAAAAAAw/2utk5EwKbfc/s200/surveillance_big.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't think I've had more than 5 minutes alone lately, including time spent in the bathroom.  From the time I got up, to the commute, to the workday, to the kids' bedtime routine, to dinner and TV with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt;, to our bedtime routines, I was accompanied at all times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started to get a little paranoid...  I went to the kitchen to make dinner = followed.  Went to the living room to close the blinds = &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt; came with and closed the blinds on the adjacent window.  After TV, I lingered in the kitchen and did some laundry/cleanup until I thought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt; was in bed.  And just then, there was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt; in the kitchen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt; woke me up and immediately started talking about Kid #1's nightmares last night.  I lingered in the bathroom, waiting for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt; to head out to the kids so I could be alone in the bedroom (which I can never do), only to run into a time crunch and had to run for the bus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm starting to understand why lab rats start chewing their own limbs off or attacking others.  Someone mentioned time-outs at work and I went delirious at the thought of it -- I'd get to stand by myself quietly in a corner for 1/2 hour +?  Who do I have to hit or bite?  Sign me up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4574490169455235254?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4574490169455235254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4574490169455235254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4574490169455235254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4574490169455235254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-always-feel-like-somebodys-watching.html' title='I Always Feel Like...  Somebody&apos;s Watching Me....'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/R__EgkTZMVI/AAAAAAAAAAw/2utk5EwKbfc/s72-c/surveillance_big.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-6327543398984376418</id><published>2008-04-09T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T10:53:22.306-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Band-Aid or Tourniquet?</title><content type='html'>I think it's pretty obvious that I'm depressed.  I've taken those online quizzes and they're all, yep -- you're depressed.  I'm treating my depression with red wine, but this leads to the hairy eyeball from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Spoose&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a lot of stress in my life these days, both from work and from household stuff.  I don't have time to process the stress, so I've been carrying it around with me wherever it fits -- pockets, handbag, that empty space where my brain used to live.  I'm one of these people that needs some quiet downtime to maintain mental health.  I'd be a lot happier if I had a minute to ride my bike or read a book/magazine or just lie there looking at the ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, I'm not likely to get that time.  I've been grabbing it here and there, but usually at the expense of sleeping.  This is not going well as an overall strategy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  Since the "real" cure for my depression is not available, should I go on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;?  It feels like cheating, since I know what work I need to do to get better, but I also know I won't have that opportunity.  And I guess should do something to be a more pleasant person to be around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is Prozac more socially acceptable than a drinking problem?  I kinda see them as the same thing, but one doesn't require more meetings (with a therapist) or a prescription.  I guess if you've been diagnosed with a "condition" and have a legal medicine, it's more legit than being a sloppy wino.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Meh&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you get a prescription for more sleep and people to leave you alone once in a while?  I want a referral to that doctor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-6327543398984376418?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/6327543398984376418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=6327543398984376418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6327543398984376418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6327543398984376418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/band-aid-or-tourniquet.html' title='Band-Aid or Tourniquet?'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-5192670623142297086</id><published>2008-04-06T23:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T23:45:50.851-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathroom'/><title type='text'>Always my turn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/R_nCpEZmL3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/eG67gzZSZbg/s1600-h/04-03-08_1821.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/R_nCpEZmL3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/eG67gzZSZbg/s320/04-03-08_1821.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186390456705363826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, but apparently I am the only human in our house that can change the empty toilet paper roll.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-5192670623142297086?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/5192670623142297086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=5192670623142297086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/5192670623142297086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/5192670623142297086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/always-my-turn.html' title='Always my turn'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4N04OgVvSUA/R_nCpEZmL3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/eG67gzZSZbg/s72-c/04-03-08_1821.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-4646740279600779145</id><published>2008-04-04T10:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T10:30:25.090-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kitchen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spoose'/><title type='text'>Spouse or Ax Murderer?</title><content type='html'>It is almost impossible for me to get time to myself, either at work or at home.  Last night, after tucking the kids into bed, Spoose and I collapsed on the bed for a few minutes.  I realized that the only way I'd have time alone was to go make dinner.  So I began the process of finding surfaces and the stove and the sink by cleaning up the day's dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I puttered around, started dinner and some side dishes for Spoose to reheat for the kids the next day, and was organizing stuff in the pantry, when Spoose suddenly appeared.  (Note:  Pattern for Spoose is to stay napping on the bed until fetched when dinner is ready.  Alternate use case is for Spoose to lumber in loudly and can be heard approaching from quite a distance.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was completely surprised to look past the pantry door and see someone there speaking to me.  Surprised doesn't even cover it.  I yelled like an Ax Murderer had suddenly appeared with a dripping ax, clutching my chest and SCREAMING for what felt like a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good friend would wonder why I'm so on edge these days and perhaps apologize for startling me.  Spoose?  Got mad at me for being unapproachable and jumpy.  At least I got a thank-you for making dinner.  That was new.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-4646740279600779145?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/4646740279600779145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=4646740279600779145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4646740279600779145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/4646740279600779145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/spouse-or-ax-murderer.html' title='Spouse or Ax Murderer?'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-3611385949604684992</id><published>2008-04-03T10:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T10:45:29.222-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>Ahem</title><content type='html'>“If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.” - Cicero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I'm going to back-talk Cicero, but if you don't have time to ever visit your garden or your library, you don't have everything.  What you have is a garden, a library, and resentment.  And perhaps a drinking problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-3611385949604684992?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/3611385949604684992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=3611385949604684992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3611385949604684992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/3611385949604684992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/ahem.html' title='Ahem'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-6047205541531057306</id><published>2008-04-02T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T17:10:02.135-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mopping'/><title type='text'>About the house</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;With 3 preschoolers and a dog, the floor gets dirty pretty quickly. There are a few levels of cleanliness to choose from:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do nothing. Barefoot kids end up with black feet bottoms. Ick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sweep. This at least keeps big crumbs from sticking to the bottoms of bare black feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wipe up spills with a baby wipe. This way, they don't get smeared around and add to the palette of colors on the bottoms of feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Use a Swiffer-type mop. This is basically a baby wipe on a stick, and unless you use a lot of the disposable pads, you really are just smearing the dirt around. However, the floor will look cleaner (which is important if people are coming over) and the dirty foot bottom symptoms will be lighter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Get out the bucket and really mop. Our mop has a scrubby brush thingy on it so I can really get out the gnarly spots. For maximum effectiveness, no children or pets should be present during this process. Which is why I end up getting to it at midnight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;If I'm really good, I combine Option #5 with Bath Night, thus ensuring at least a day of clean little footies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;You may ask why it's me doing the mopping and not our SAHD, who is usually asleep by midnight.&lt;br /&gt;But that's another post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-6047205541531057306?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/6047205541531057306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=6047205541531057306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6047205541531057306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/6047205541531057306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/about-house.html' title='About the house'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6134474016970577951.post-2636878171894070121</id><published>2008-04-01T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T11:03:09.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='job'/><title type='text'>About the sucky job</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you seen Pirates of the Carribbean?  You know Davy Jones' ship?  The sailors sentenced to crew start getting barnacled and crusty the longer they're on board.  The old-timers are completely covered with crustaceans and coral and eventually start to become part of the ship, until they cannot even peel themselves apart from the ship's walls.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;This is my sucky corporate job.  I used to think it was OK and I could leave any time.  Then I realized I'd need some lead time to creak away and clean myself up.  Now, I'm walled in and can barely move my eyeballs.  The best I can hope for is to go down with the ship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Who said this would be a cheery blog?  There are plenty of those plucky mom types out there, putting on lipstick and smiling like everything's fine.  That wouldn't be me.  See that sludge in the mop bucket?  That's what I'm talking about.  Now, lift your feet.  I need to mop under there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6134474016970577951-2636878171894070121?l=moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/feeds/2636878171894070121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6134474016970577951&amp;postID=2636878171894070121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/2636878171894070121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6134474016970577951/posts/default/2636878171894070121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moppingatmidnight.blogspot.com/2008/04/about-sucky-job.html' title='About the sucky job'/><author><name>MaM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16189475079756907379</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
