What have I been doing besides cursing Gmail? Well, watching “American Idol,” of course.
I’m also reading Peace Like a River which is hogging all my spare time. And I’m busy fixing snacks for my daughter who asks for, but does not eat, a snack every fifteen minutes, including the meatloaf she rejected at dinnertime. She wanted it right before bed . . . but did not eat it. Tonight, I was reclined on my bed, reading and she came flopping in, asking me to get her water bottle downstairs. I said, “No, I’m too tired!” and she said, “No, I’m more tired than you.” (I won the argument, just so you know.)
By the way, I think Lisa Rinna seems like a lovely, if overly-perky woman, but whenever I see her on television (a lot lately, due to “Dancing with the Stars”), I cannot stop staring at her upper lip. I know. I am shallow and I should be half the beauty she is. But still. STOP WITH THE LIP ENHANCEMENTS, YOU HOLLYWOOD STARS! (If her lips are natural, I extend my most sincere apologies for my judgmental attitude.)
Sometimes, I feel like the most ancient woman in the world . . . especially when I read other mothers asking “how do I make my toddler son stop hitting me?” Really? Seriously? YOU JUST DO! I fear for our society in which mothers can’t figure out how to make little ones obey. Pick up the kid, shout “NO!”, deposit him in his room. No fuss, no muss. Rinse and repeat. Or, if you are opposed to shouting, stand up, walk out of the room and ignore the little ankle-biter. Just be consistent. Geez. Do not tolerate misbehavior. Either I have turned into a curmudgeon or I am the victim of hormones. I think it’s the former. I’m also old and will not tolerate tomfoolery.
That is all. Carry on.