So, we’ve been in our new time zone for just over two weeks. I know, I know, I was supposed to do a post on ‘Survival Parenting’ the day after my last post, but I gotta be honest, folks: Changes are hard, damn it. Even good changes, the way these are. It knocks even the most grounded person off their feet for a while. And ‘grounded’ isn’t something I’ve been accused of much. ‘Weird’, ‘nuts’, ‘blunt’, sure. ‘Common senseical’, yes again, but I’m pretty sure that one is only in comparison to weird ass news stories. And there are a LOT of those. Continue reading
Folks have been asking, “How was the move?”
Well, almost a week later, I *think* I can talk about it.
The nasty eye twitch is almost gone. I figure by the time the youngest moves out, I’ll be completely recovered.
Maybe. Continue reading
Someone asked Wolf recently, “So, is your wife excited about the move?”
His response? “Sure, you can call it that. She’s going nuclear and losing her shit every couple of hours. Sure, call it excited.”
And then he came home and REPEATED the conversation to me.
But, that’s not what makes him an asshole. Continue reading
Holy old cheezits, folks.
We’re doing this.
Heading for the East Coast. Continue reading
Last week, Wolf flew across country (and Canada’s a big damn country, folks) to look for a rental house for us.
As he drove off the children and I eyed each other, uneasily.
They are all Daddy Addicts. Nothing in their world is quite right when Daddy’s not home. They tolerate (barely) him going to work, merely because the older ones understand the math of “Dad doesn’t work, you don’t eat/get toys/anything good” and the younger ones simply do the Dance O’Joy when he walks through the door.
Anyone remember The Flintstones? When Fred comes home, and Dino knocks him on his back? That’s pretty much the routine, every day, when Wolf gets home, but with kids, not a Dino. Continue reading