Sundae Sunday

Lizzy is a strange child. 

She has - for weeks - been talking about making a sundae on Sunday. This is a very specific sundae. It is not a banana split, but it has bananas. It also has four kinds of ice cream (chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate chip mint), chocolate syrup, mini marshmallows, sprinkles, whipped cream, and two cherries. It is apparently supposed to be served in "a golden bowl" but I refused to buy a golden bowl for the sake of a sundae; that's expensive.

There was much discussion and angst when we were at the store, because I had to convince her that we could use one scoop of Neapolitan in place of three separate scoops, one of each flavor. And of course, Lizzy being Lizzy, she has to have the ingredients put in the not-golden bowl in a certain order. Just like her clothes when I lay them out for her.

This is not all that strange in and of itself. Not around here anyway.

What's really strange is that she has no idea where she got this concept. 

From TV? No. From a book? No.

"Mo-om, I thought it up in my own head."

And as I said she's been talking about it for weeks.

So we're having a Sundae Sunday.

And it is glorious.

And it's unlikely to happen very often, because oh my god the sugar.

+Laston Kirkland calls it the diabetenator.

It's a good thing we're having chicken and salad for dinner, because I think the Hubs and the kids have used up their calorie quota for the weekend already.

Thankful

On this last day of November, I would like to share the things I am thankful for:

1. I am thankful for my mom, who is not only my mom, but my primary babysitter and chauffeur and all-around helpful person. Even when she doesn't feel like it, when her sister is ill, when she has other things to do, whenever.
2. I am thankful for my husband, who whether he actually groks is or not, is completely accepting and supportive of things like mom and me needing to spend an occasional afternoon together without the children and with no responsibility. 
3. I am thankful my auntie is recovering.
4. I am thankful that I have a job I really enjoy and that it is nearby.
5. I am thankful I earned a B in Communication Law, because it was a hard one for me.
6. I am thankful that the kids are basically healthy and generally happy people.
7. I am thankful that my Abby's father is a good dad and a conscientious ex-husband.
8. I am thankful that the new place is almost ready for us to move into: we're just waiting on a final date before we give thirty days' notice at our current apartment.
9. I am thankful that even though we are not at all sad to leave here - the cost is very high and the space is too small and we'll probably have to pay over and above our damage deposit even though we have been here for four plus years - that we have always felt safe pretty content here.
10. I am thankful that although we will not have enough money to get all the things we want for the kids (new bed frames, new bedding) or for the household (linens, dining room chairs, a new couch, etc) as we move, we will soon after that. Our new place is so much less expensive - just over half our current rent - than here that it will only take a few weeks to catch up again, especially if the Hubs gets a job sooner rather than later.
11. And on that note, although I am not thankful his employers decided he wasn't "the right fit" my silver lining here is that there is someone to oversee the packing and moving and all that. And to keep the kids on those few days when my mom (see number 1) cannot keep them.

There you go, eleven things for the eleventh month.

Spoiled Spoilers

Miss Abby is a fairly responsible child. But she is still a child, and normally we try to make the consequences fit the action. Or lack of action, in this case.

But it wasn't completely her fault.

Yes, she did leave her beloved sonic screwdriver in her coat pocket. Her bad.

But we washed the coat without the usual warnings ("Yo, kids, washing coats, clear the pockets or lose the stuff...") and without checking the pockets ourselves. Our bad.

What we thought was the noise of zippers in the dryer was sonic screwdriver bits, at least partly.

And we can only find half of it. Not even enough to build a cabinet.

Abby gets attached to her things anyway, and this one was special even by her standards, given to her by her Aunt Laura for her last birthday.

"Can we get a new one?" She asked tearfully this morning.

"Well... normally I believe in suffering the natural consequences of not taking care of your things; you know that."

A nod, fresh tears, dripping on my night-gowned knee.

"But I think that in this case, since you didn't know I'd be washing the coat, and I didn't check the pockets, and your birthday is coming up, how about we get you a new one for your birthday?"

Sniffle. Nod. "Okay."

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SPOILERS

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Okay (in case you hadn't guessed), on to the spoilers for the 50th Anniversary special of Doctor Who. DO NOT CONTINUE UNLESS YOU WANT TO RISK SPOILERS!

These are just random observations.

I'm sure I am not the only fan to notice that the broken statues scene had the music from Time of Angels, and therefore was intended to mislead the audience into believing that it was that kind of statue <shudder> with which we were dealing.

I was Osgood (although I was more of a Doctor McCoy fan at that age than a Doctor Who fan in the US), as I'm sure many of us were or are, and that may have been a nod in our direction.

I thought they had blamed the TARDIS-from-a-helicopter incident on Dan Brown of Da Vinci Code fame. As an American this made perfect sense to me. But the lovely Claire of PlanetClaire (where I get my quotes when I write Who fanfic) explained that Derren Brown is in fact a British illusionist. This makes even more sense.

I cried (both times I saw the show) even though I knew who the curator was. I may be an Eleven fangirl in many ways, but Four was my first Doctor.

And as pointed out by my mother, Clara was born to save the Doctor... and in this special she truly did. She saved his soul. Sniffle.

The trailer I saw for the Christmas special had River Song's voice. If they don't find a way to (a) get her out of the damn Library, or (b) get a copy of Eleven into it with her, it will give me a sad. I've seen it (and written it) in fanfic, but there's nothing in canon of course. Besides, if they do it the way I imagine it, they could also get Jack Harkness reacting to a Doctor who looks alarmingly like one John Frobisher (and yes, a gazillion spoilers there).

The Day of the Doctor, Revisited (no spoilers)

It was a rough weekend in many ways, but some of it was great. Leanna and Abby and I joined Grandma in watching The Day of the Doctor Saturday for the simulcast, and that was fun. Miz Liz is now practically a caricature of a six year old, as you can see above. We attended a birthday party for the girls' friends. All good things. But some of it was really hard too.

So tonight, Grandma and Abby and I saw The Day of the Doctor again, this time in the theater, as a present for Abby's upcoming 11th birthday. Since she is as much an Eleventh Doctor fangirl as her mum is, this was extra special, and she was totally gleeful in the evening but too wired and excited to sleep. She went to bed at - you guessed it - eleven, so... we'll see how that goes.

And then - and THEN (about 1:47) - a good online friend and fabulous fan artist +Dangreenacres sent me a piece of fan art he made just for me. It's totally Whovian and brilliant and creative, and I adore it; he made it as a lock screen for my particular phone, as well as a companion (hee hee, I said 'companion') piece to a story I wrote in the Whoniverse (and no, I don't usually share my fan fic publicly; if you want a link, pop me a private note. You won't understand it unless you're a Whovian anyway). The story isn't done yet; Real Life got in the way. But feel free to squee over the art as I did.

It's Just as Well...

...that this was Leanna's weekend with her mom.

Because historically, she's here during her stepmom's (hi!) worst days.

I don't like myself like this. And I don't even have the excuse of PMS.

It wasn't really anything wrong - just every little thing was pissing me off; sometimes it happens. Right now I am typing this so I don't shout at Abby for chewing her toast too loudly. Lizzy's been at her very attention-grabbing worst (I-want-Mommy vied with I-hate-Mommy most of the weekend), and I have three papers to complete.

I'm sure that's part of it; Lizzy trying to grab attention when I'm typing homework is the same as Lizzy - or any kid - trying to grab attention when mom is on the phone.

However, the dishwasher is running, Lizzy went to bed on time (she was also looking super tired) and lunches are packed. Except for socks, we're ready to go in the morning, and I'm almost done with the first of the papers (the others aren't due until next Monday, a week from tomorrow, but I want to get them done early so I can take it easy a bit next weekend).

I think I need a day at the spa.

Or failing that, the massage place, the hairdresser, and the nail spa down the street.

Anxious Revisited

Some is better. Some is worse.

My aunt is doing better, although she is still in the hospital.

My step-grandmother (my dad's stepmother) passed this afternoon. We haven't been close for a long time, a couple of decades really - maybe fifteen years since I saw her last. But she was my last grandparent, and that feels... odd. I'm sad, more on behalf of my aunt and uncle - her kids and my dad's half-siblings - than for me. And I feel... old, I guess.

The Hubs did in fact lose his job; just wasn't a good fit for him. It's stressy, although as I said, the money sitch isn't as scary now that we're moving soon. Which brings us to...

The house. It will be ready (fingers crossed) my no later than the end of the year. This is a Good Thing (though we'd like it to be earlier), because at least we know. Assuming nobody gets sick again or what-have-you. This also means we'll likely be moving over Christmas.

Which is complicated under the best of circumstances, with divorced and remarried families (although we get along, thank goodness). This year it's even more complicated than usual, because Abby's dad is going out of the country for work, and nobody knows his schedule yet, including him.

On the flip side, the Hubs - who is in fact certified as a K-12 teacher - is getting re-certified (as a teacher, silly, not because he's certifiable). We sent off the paperwork today

This is a very mixed report. And my fingernails are still too long, dammit.

Ooo - I said the D word.

I want to talk to Abby alone because of her dad's work thing up there, and I have an opportunity when I take her to a sleepover tonight. If Lizzy ever stops behaving as though I'm pulling her fingernails out one at a time by not letting her come with us. "But, Mommy, I'll do anything if you're just let me go with you. I literally already put my shoes on even. Mommy, please, I'll do anything."

I suggested she go to Toshi Station to get some power converters and she said, "Okay. I said anything." But when I showed her the clip she was Not Amused, and accused me of mocking her.

Which I am.

Wow. That is a tired kid, I think, because that last bit was very Elmer Fudd. And now she's kicking her bedroom door where Daddy put her in there in trouble for whining and nagging over and over.

And when I get back I have homework to do.

At least I got us insured, and my anxiety meds will come in Tuesday

Sigh.