I woke up Monday morning at 5Am to a tiny voice frantically telling me they had a nose bleed. My kids don't get nose bleeds. I activated the ejection button on my side of the bed at lightning speed so as not to wake the angry monster (with two finals to take that day) I was sleeping next to. I had already had my beauty sleep interrupted once that evening by wet jammie bottoms and a crying the Hamster, so I wasn't looking too pretty.

But bleeding 6-yr olds don't care how you look so I stumbled into the bathroom that was fast becoming a crime scene. Man! I was glad we had moved into a house with no carpet. Bud was crying, and I was trying desperately trying to remember what you do for a nosebleed and trying not to step on the blood.

Stuff the nostrils with something absorbent? Irrigate his face? My extensive medical training (yeah, right!) had escaped me, and my ability to think straight was directly proportional to my lack of sleep.

"Bud, it's OK. Sometimes noses just bleed. Did you bump your face on your brother's head? Did you fall out of bed onto your face? Did you put something in your nose? It's ok to lose a little blood."

MOM! This is NOT a little bit of blood. This is a lot. It's everywhere!"

"Dude, if you cut your arm off, THAT would be a lot of blood. See? It's not that bad, is it?"

"Oh, ok."

Oh yeah, tilt the head back! I got it. Sit the bloody boy on the potty and tilt his head back and pinch the bridge of his nose. I found out the next day that you tilt the head forward and pinch so blood doesn't go down the back of the throat. Anyway, we got it cleaned up and Bud was bathed and put back to bed until I realized that it was 6AM and my little day-flamingos (the opposite of night-owls around here) were bright and shiny and ready for the day to start.

The angry monster was even angrier at that point. Being woken up the alarm is bad enough, but being woken up by crying children 30 minutes before the alarm is even worse. But I yelled patiently explained that cleaning up bums and blood in the middle of the night isn't fun either. And that I had finals as well. And final projects due. And a landlord who hasn't given us back our deposit from 2 months ago yet who I'm going to have to take to small claims court.

But that's another post for another day...

Dear Christian Bale,

This is very difficult for me to write.

I'm breaking up with you.

You've been my movie boyfriend ever since I saw you in Empire of the Sun in the theater in 1987. You made my heart flutter in Swing Kids and Newsies. I swooned for you in Little Women. I loved you in A Midsummer Night's Dream. I even watched Reign of Fire although it wasn't really that good. You were my favorite Batman. Anyway, my sexy (ex)boyfriend Christian, you have just become too much of a bully. I recently heard audio of you berating a lights guy on the set of one of your movies. I had to turn it off! And then go wash my ears! This is the last straw Christian. You've been too mean for too long. I've heard rumors that you are difficult on set, but I didn't want to believe. But the writing is on the wall now. This can't go on any longer.

I can't, in good conscience, have imaginary children with you anymore. I'm afraid they'll turn into imaginary grown-ups who kick their dogs or something. You're just not a good imaginary father figure anymore.

So we must part ways, movie boyfriend. No, no! Don't cry! Or cuss! Or yell at/beat the imaginary hired help!

I'll probably still watch Terminator 4. But my heart won't flutter.

It's over,

Michelle



Oh, and if you could not tell James that I've had a crush on you for 20 years, that'd be great.

I went to the mall the other day to pick out a pretty dress for a party I had to attend for Dr. Husband's school. This is not familiar territory for me so I made to sure to stop and get a mall field guide before I went in. I needed to know if there were any newly discovered creatures since I was a teenager. I was expecting the usual skanks and whathaveyou. This is the Midwest, so there were plenty of mullety types walking around too. I went too late to see the fit seniors powerwalking.


One species I totally should have been wary of was the kiosk skin care lady. When you visit the mall as infrequently as I do, you just forget that there's snake oil salespeople at every kiosk. So she did her thing and wasted my time for about 10 minutes. Then when she was trying to grab my wallet and push cleansers down my throat, I yelled "Look at that girl's skin over there!" She turned around and I pulled my arm away and sort of ran away. I was pretty proud of myself for outwitting the kiosk lady without having to chew my arm off.

What I wasn't expecting though, was the guy sitting at the manicure station next to me. I only get my nails done once or twice a year, so I kind of look forward to the experience. Apparently the guy next to me was really into it. He was finishing up as I was getting started. I don't have a problem with guys getting their nails did, because nasty craggy fingers are kind of gross. I wouldn't reccommend french tips to most guys though.

So anyway, this guy looked like a delivery person of some kind or other. Not that there's anything wrong with that. He's waiting for his clear polish to dry and he starts making faces at himself in the mirror that covers the wall behind the manicurists. Like cutesy faces. He wrinkled his nose up. And made coy little smiles to himself. And puckered his lips ever so slightly. Then he turned to the lady doing my nails and said "I feel so beautiful!"

There was nothing in the field guide covering that one.