So, yeah. Hiatus.

I plan on being back in November, so don’t give up on me just yet!

Yup. That’s me.

Of course, if I’m burnt toast than DB can’t be any better off. Worse, I’d wager.

At least with me, we could scrape off the burnt parts and still come out kind of edible.

Despite our crusty states, these three small things just keep bouncing around us without pause. Like, literally. As in, please-pass-me-the-remote-all-this-motion-makes-me-sick without pause. Even during the night, the wild things creepeth. It’s like they can smell that Momma’s spidey-senses are on high alert and even the littlest, tiniest, cricket-like-est sounds will send her bounding out of bed and streaking into the hallway, a veritable Wonder Woman, magic lasso at the ready.

...tell me, did you REALLY think I’d give away my secret identity to you just ‘cause you read my blog?

Unfortunately, all this nighttime activity leaves my super-strength a bit sapped during daylight hours (bet you didn’t that super-mom’s weakness is daylight, did you? Mothers are vampiric that way). I think what this means is that I need to level up.

Level Up, Verb: To gain enough experience in a video game, through either fighting or questing, that your character “gains” a level, thereby increasing strength, speed, magical ability, etc. Eg., “I got Cloud up to level 99 in the first disc, tracked down Sephiroth, then pwnd him so bad that my PS exploded.” 

If you didn’t already know what leveling up was, that probably made it clear as mud, yes?

Let me explain in pictures.

In a video game, as you progress the enemies you fight get more and more difficult. If you fail to level up sufficiently, your characters stay relatively weak. Then bad things happen and you start looking like maybe a zombie revolution would actually be in your favor.

Characters names have been changed for their protection.

So you go out, and you just keep fighting. Even if it’s barely by the skin of your teeth that you make it through battles (or even if it’s only by dint of multiple saves of your game; I’m not sure what the parental equivalent to that would be. Possibly Momma time-out, when you put the kids in their rooms so’s you can pull yourself together), you’ll eventually find that this wonderful, glorious thing happens.

Yippee! I’m strong now!

All at once, you hit harder, run faster, think clearer, and definitely would never, ever lose to munchkins.

Ladybug dressed herself just like this yesterday. I’m not even making that up.

Let’s face it: I can’t give up. My kids will still be there in the morning (and evening and night) regardless. So am I going to give in? Will I lose my schmidt all over everything? Will I explode like some disgusting pig-lizard that’s been turned inside out by a malfunctioning teleportation device?

Maybe.

But I’ll clean up after myself.

And then I’ll keep going.

Because that’s what we do, parents. We haul ourselves up by our bootstraps, and when the bootstraps break we levitate because we just freaking have to.

Props to you, all my parental friends. Go forth and gain many levels so that someday, when we reach the golden years of level 99, we can watch our children struggling and, even though we know we could take all their enemies out with one swing, we won’t. Because we love them.

And we know that it’s worth getting stronger.

Note: The video game I took the screens shots from is Final Fantasy IX, produced by Square Enix. Just so we’re cool on me not stealing other people’s stuff. The legs are from The Wizard of Oz; same thing. 

Second Note: Thanks to Real Life Comics for reminding me how much I lurve FF games. You are one funny guy, Greg Dean.

– e. e. cummings

Momma interrupts with, “It’s okay, Ladybug. You only have to try one bite.”

Ladybug then twists her head to the side, her mouth in a knot. Strawbee has now noticed the foreign food and is already shrieking “Don’t want it, THANKS.” Ladybug shakes her head.

Momma is too tired to argue, so she comes out with, “All right. Let me get the ketchup and ranch.”

Yes, you read that correctly.

They would eat just this for every meal, if I'd let them.

Ketchup and ranch.

The saviors of our meal time, carefully placed at polar ends of the plate so never the twain shall meet. Despite this, however, they don’t actually eat it like that, separately and all. They don’t carefully choose which condiment will do better with each food. No, no.

They use both.

Ladybug dips hers in ketchup, then the ranch, then in the ketchup again before eating whatever it is. Strawbee just kinda… swirls the two together.

They both lick whatever is left over off of their plates.

Some of the things they’ve eaten with ketchup and ranch:

No, I’m not making that up. And if you asked me how it started, I wouldn’t really know.

Really, all I have to say is: Thank goodness for Costco.

All Hail, Ketchup and Ranch.

Fall! Fall! It's FAAALLLLL!!!

Best part? It took maybe 10 minutes and the critical eye of a 4 year old. No creativity required from my Momma brain.

Martha better watch out; Ladybug is coming up from behind.

Then I became co-dependent with my contacts, but that's not what this post is about.

(Thanks again for that, Mom.)

My glasses figured that I’d come back. And I do. For very, very brief flings before bed each night. And sometimes first thing in the morning. But never for longer than half an hour. I wouldn’t be sucked in again.

Then I got pink eye.

Yes, I did have a little skull and crossbones seeping out of my eye. So?

Clearly, my glasses are plotting against me. If I wouldn’t come back of my own accord, they would make my relationship with my contacts poisonous; nay, impossible. Then I’d be back.

Shifty-eyed glasses! ... wait...

So I had to go back to my glasses for. an. entire. month. I loathed every minute of it. I had to double check who the heck it was I was seeing every time I walked past a mirror. The dreaded problem spots of acne returned. My depth perception, always iffy, made me start thinking that not only were the objects closer than they appeared but they were right in my face. Driving at night was a lot of fun because all the lights were soft and beautiful… except it makes it hard to see where you ought to be when the cars in front of you meld into one shiny, fuzzy-looking blob. My ninja-like periferal vision was all but gone, which makes for a really lame ninja who jumps every time the dog walks past.

I spent a lot of time making sure I was kissing the right man before letting DB get too close.

He usually looks more like a young Elvis.

But spending an entire month with the glasses, well… I have to admit, maybe it’s not so bad. I can do without peripheral vision. And depth perception. And really, when you think about it, the street lamps look kinda pretty at night, all fuzzy and glowy.

Maybe… maybe I should give the glasses a second chance…

I've either been hypnotized, or I have rabies.

Yes, I totally work with a net. DB, you know.

This week, it’s more like this:

I promise, the baby fell in the net.

I may have taken on too much. Hopefully I’ll be back on my game next week.