Tending The Home Fires.
Mood:  hug me
Topic: Ohana
This week must have been cooked up in Hell especially for me. My mom, who was born six weeks after the stock market crash which began the Great Depression, and who also has lung cancer, fell and broke her leg last Saturday. Everything since then has been a sort of blur of worry and trips to the hospital and phone calls to my sister and so on. The good news? When something bad has happened I stop eating and sleeping, so I get to have for free that hollow wasted look that Kate Moss used to have to spend SO much money on heroin to achieve. And I watch lots of TV in the night! I would like to take a moment here to personally thank the Three Stooges and On Demand cable for helping me make it through.

I think that since Saturday I have had about six hours of sleep, and have been subsisting on energy drinks, a Pria bar or two, a rather tasty Cobb salad had with Ben for lunch yesterday, and the milk from my Starbucks drinks. Can't eat.

We lost my dad to lung cancer shortly before Ben and I got married. He never did see Sam, Matt or Julia. And I would like to take a moment to thank Winston cigarettes for helping to make that happen. I remember the vibe I was getting from him when his time was almost done, and this week I was getting the vibe from Mom.

Her mind's been playing tricks on her, and at times she is pretty disoriented, and has trouble knowing dream from reality. She was fussing about losing her mind, but I said Don't worry, Mom. You don't really need to use it for anything just right now; Monica and I are taking care of everything, so let it go. I told her I was jealous -- finally she gets a rest! That seemed to make her smile.

This morning we settled her into a skilled nursing facility and I brought Sam, Matt and Julia in to see her. I told them beforehand that I wanted all the other old ladies to say Did you see those grandchildren of hers? They are so beautiful and well behaved. And Sam and Matt did a great job being quiet as mice, and Julia was in full bloom -- smiling and charming everyone.

My mom's face just lit up as she looked at them, and she played piggy-toe games with Julia Rose, her little namesake. And Julia squealed, and Sam and Matt grinned and blushed, and all at once I wasn't getting the vibe from Mom anymore.

Sometimes the best way to scare away death is to bring in a bunch of life. Thanks, Crumpacker kids! Tonight, I'll eat dinner and get some sleep.

Grateful Bed.
Mood:  lazy
Topic: Ohana


Here you see the family bed, freshly made. Can you believe this crazy shit? For 25 years I never made a bed because I DIDN'T FUCKING HAVE TIME, THANK YOU. Now they expect me to make beds. Next thing you know, they'll be wondering why there isn't a freaking CHOCOLATE on the pillow when they come in.

Although today I left little Easter eggs for the boys. Sometimes adjustments should be made. And yes, that is totally a Ron Weasley pillowcase! Hello, Rupert Grint. My baby will barf on you now.

I've got an entry brewing about how mommies dress every day. So take a look around you: What's the unspoken dress code for mommies where you live? Hold that thought, and I'll be back with an entry just as soon as I get done MAKING BEDS and EARNING MONEY. (Yesss! It can be done.)

Hamster Babies.
Mood:  amorous
Topic: Ohana
So there was the thing about the hamsters.

Sam always wanted a hamster, and the other week, when he was embroiled in some angsty kind of funk, I picked him up early from preschool and took him to Sandbar Pets. He selected the chubbiest of the hamsters, with the most interesting coat -- brown and white and black. Brothers being brothers, I added a second hamster, a very golden one, for Matt and set them up in one of those little what-have-yous from Petco.

My virtual daughter Laurie, who has a love thing with her hamster, worried when I reported this. Two hamsters? If males, they would fight upon reaching puberty. If male and female, instant hamster factory. Crap. The hamster thing turns out to be a lot more involved than you would think -- suddenly I was comparing round bits to pointy bits and worrying about hamster puberty. Like I don't have enough going on.

I sort of back-burnered the problem, though, because the hamsters got along fine, and so we went along, la di da. This morning I thought I should clean the cage, even though I had read that you shouldn't disturb the nests they set up. And guess what I found?

OH YES. HAMSTER BABIES.

Now you know why Sam's hamster was so chubby.

There are three of them, and Punch the hamster is doing an awesome job of being a nursing mom and keeping things together. Of course I am tearing my hair out because OH MY GOD, RESPONSIBILITY. I am going to have to let her rear her babies, and when they're weaned, I'll need to either find homes for them or at least move them to separate quarters. And Ben, because he is a PRICK, spent the entire morning LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF.

In other news, Willis the dog has encountered some complications, so our foster pup will not be joining us for the time being. I wish Willis all the best, but in the face of SUDDEN HAMSTER BABIES, I have to admit it's a bit of a relief.

Now. Here is a query. This is the Mr. Baby Show, and over there is another Mr. Baby Show. I've got two blogs. Should I scrap one of them? If so, which one? Perhaps I should keep them both, one blog for everyday use and one for Sunday best? I am not certain, but one thing is for certain, and that one thing is HAMSTER BABIES.

Sam's Club Shopping List.
Mood:  celebratory
Topic: Ohana
I took my son Sam to his club. You know, the warehousey store. And there we bought

A case each of:

-- Diet Pepsi
-- Arizona green tea
-- Monster low-carb energy drink
-- Juice boxes
-- Horizon Organic chocolate milk singles
-- SweetTarts

One bottle zinfandel
One bottle shiraz
Ten pounds potatoes
Five pounds onions

Crumpacker Ohana is Presently Poised to Party. Five years ago, we'd have simply substituted Altoids for SweetTarts and inverted the proportions of alcoholic beverages to non-. As Douglas Adams said, You live and learn; or at least, you live.

Ohana Sunset.
Mood:  energetic
Topic: Ohana
Good Christ, that last entry was dark, for which I apologize. Scrubbing a toilet at sunrise can do that to a girl. So we made ourselves one awesome sunset.

The ohana went for a walk along the Upper Newport Bay in the late afternoon. One of the enchanted things about Southern California is the golden light on certain afternoons, and today was a stunning example of the genre. So we walked through the coastal scrubland, all greens and browns, and gazed out at the birds and the water, which is a particularly heartbreaking shade of blue. It's a landscape so gorgeous that you can't quite believe you're seeing it. So we appointed Sam the leader of the adventure, and he led us on a glorious walk, and it was just one of those times when you think This is it; this is what people are thinking of when they dream of living happily ever after.

Sam and I sat on Pregnancy Rock together. We call it Pregnancy Rock because the night before Sam was born, I sat on that rock, terribly pregnant, and watched the Fourth of July fireworks leaning back against my husband. The next morning, I went into labor. So it's been a sort of totem for our family; I went and sat on it when I was pregnant with Matt, and again when pregnant with Julia, trying to coax them to be born. So we sat there, and told Sam stories of what it was like way back when his mom and dad weren't even his mom and dad yet; back when we were just a guy and a girl.

Just a guy and a girl. But together we made magic. It's Crumpacker magic, of course -- all dick jokes and whoopie cushions and armpit farts -- but it's the kind of family I always dreamed of having. For a family like this I will scrub toilets. Shit, I'll even do windows.

Skid Marks On My Heart.
Mood:  crushed out
Topic: Ohana
Oh dear sweet Jesus. I just cleaned a bathroom.

Do you know how long it's been since I've done that? Long. I had forgotten what it was like. Maybe the reason some mothers go neurotic is that they overdose on lovingly wiping up other people's pee spatters. Maybe it's the knowledge that they will pick up yet ANOTHER pair of Darth Vader jockey shorts, and that these jockey shorts will ALSO contain skid marks, that finally does them in.

Who knows the secrets of the toilet rim? Mom knows. It's a rather gritty form of enlightenment. I chose it, but it does not smell nice. That's okay. MOST things involving little boys do not smell nice.

I have learned the art of patience. And I know that someday it's going to be burrito night at the old age home, and when that day comes? My boys had better hope the ol' Depends hold up. Because paybacks are hell.

A Few Things.
Mood:  crushed out
Topic: Ohana
First: We got Annie. She is probably not a purebred miniature schnauzer, but she's definitely mostly schnauzer. She may be pregnant. The vet will tell us that tomorrow. Annie is only 7 months old and shows signs of being in her first estrus. Since the people from whom we rescued her were so anxious to get her off the premises, we're betting the horse has already escaped and that closing the barn door would be something of an afterthought. That's okay; Annie is our dog now, and we will stick by her whatever happens.

It's hard to catch her standing still to photograph her, though. Nicky is usually trying to fuck her, and she's not receptive. Right now Nicky is lying at my feet, and Annie just came in to breathe a sigh of relief and lie down also. I am also nursing Julia as I type this! Lucky for you I don't turn on the camera. Being a millionaire mom is all about multitasking.

Meanwhile, I got a Fuck You Letter from the literary agent. It was a really pretty fuck you, and they served it to me in a crystal dish with whipped cream and a cherry, but after 25 years in the legal business I know a fuck you letter when I see one, and that was what they sent me. So I need another agent. That's on the back burner for now. First order of business is making some money happen without having to go to Anaheim and hustle blowjobs amongst the Midwestern tourists.

Because my ass is getting worn out, is why, and baby needs a new pair of shoes. When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. And as far as legal employment is concerned, I'm being scouted by a bunch of big-league teams; it's only a matter of how and when I sign, and with whom. I want money, and I want flexibility. Whoever can give me those things is in the race, and after that it's a bidding war.

Anyway. Julia is asleep, dogs are calmed down, Ben and the boys are off playing with their toys. This is when I get to rest. It's about fucking time, too.

Happy Fucking Crumpacker Christmas.
Mood:  special
Topic: Ohana
Oh my my my. We had the most awesome Christmas on record, a real Crumpacker Ohana Christmas, with tons of good food cooked by a coordinated effort of various members of the ohana, lots of good champagne, delicious FrancisFrancis! espresso and lattes, happy children, awesome presents, Hanna Andersson Christmas jammies, fun holiday movies, great holiday music, Apple computing (versus Microsoft; out with the old, in with the new!), and more and more and more than I can ever tell.

Except you want to know the really boneheaded part? We totally forgot to take pictures. Well, there's always next year.

From all of us to all of you, a Happy Fucking Crumpacker Christmas. It's one for the record books, kiddies. What more can I say? Totally. Awesome. I'm outie.

Beginning To Look A Lot Like . . .
Mood:  celebratory
Topic: Ohana
Today I had an absolute blast -- took the day off from work and went Christmas shopping, at which time I was apparently possessed by the Ghost of Christmas Present. Turned right into Lady Bountiful. I am a dedicated discount shopper, and I gathered up mountains of loot at a fraction of retail. Well, maybe not mountains. Make that gentle, rolling hills. I spent the morning shopping and the afternoon wrapping, happy as a monkey with two dicks, to borrow a phrase from Ben's stepfather.

Because this is a special Christmas. Julia's here. I've made a bond with Ben's mother. Erika and Joel are engaged, and have finally found a great apartment right around the corner from us. Matt and Sam are both old enough to get completely behind Christmas, and they are beside themselves with excitement. It just feels like a big homecoming, and in fact we're going to have a houseful -- Ben's mom is coming to stay Christmas Eve and Christmas night, and it looks like we'll also have Erika and Joel on Christmas Eve. So, a household of eight tucked in for the night. A crowd around the Christmas tree. Tumult and noise, for sure. Standing room only for Christmas dinner.

It's going to be a big, noisy, warm, chaotic Crumpacker family Christmas, and it's totally going to rock. Bring on the holidays. We're making this one a year to remember.

Huppie Ho!
Mood:  happy
Topic: Ohana
Well, we did it. You see before you a white Chrysler Town & Country minivan, The Official Vehicle of Crumpacker Ohana. It's a slightly used 2005 model and we got a fantastic price, and yes, we now own two of them.

Ready to throw up? Wait, it gets worse. Because they both have California vanity plates. One of them is nice, and one of them is not nice. The 2002 van says MRBABY with a heart in front of it. That's for our boys. The 2005 van says U BERK. That is a UK insult -- Holly will recognize it immediately. Americans, not so much. So I am happy to report we slipped that one by the California DMV, and are blithely driving around So Cal giving the finger to the world at large, if you will. Which we are happy to do.

If you are thinking we are these incredible nerds for having matching minivans, I am here to tell you you're wrong. We are, in fact, ahead of our time -- minivans are the vehicle of choice for yuppie hippies, or huppies as we like to call ourselves. In fact, I am seriously thinking about getting a bunch of flower power decals and applying them to our minivans in the manner of the Volkswagen minibuses of old. You think?

Mark my words. This is the wave of the future, baybee.

Edited the next day to add the following further geeky information: Our vanfleet is also identifiable by the presence of obnoxious antenna toppers. The big van (2002 MRBABY) has Mr. Hanky, the Christmas Poo, from South Park. And this morning I welcomed the little van (2005 UBERK) into the ohana by applying an antenna topper featuring Homer Simpson wearing tighty whities, holding a Duff beer and the remote control.

Holy Shit, It's Christmas.
Mood:  celebratory
Topic: Ohana
We put up the Christmas tree today. And I can't leap up and photograph it because I've got a nursling asleep in my lap, which is just too bad.

Because I wish you could see it. This is the first year I have decorated a Christmas tree with the help of Sam and Matt, and in this ohana everyone gets creative freedom as far as that goes. The boys were placed in charge of hanging candy canes on the tree. And the configuration goes something like this:

Ten or so candy canes huddled in a group at the front of the tree, about three feet from the floor; and
No candy canes whatsoever anywhere else.

Matt found some packing peanuts. Some of them are white, and some of them are pink. But all of them are snow to Matt, and he very carefully arranged handfuls of them on the lower branches.

As you might imagine, our Christmas tree is somewhat eclectic. We have a number of glass globes in the likeness of bloodshot eyeballs, and Santa in a spaceship, and a bunch of lovely handmade ornaments hand-carved from dried miniature gourds. Blue's Clues and Harry Potter and Homer Simpson. An angel on top that used to smile down on me in my childhood. But my favorite stuff has got to be the packing peanuts and the candy canes. And the five stockings lined up in a row: Erika. Sam. Matt. Julia. Nicky.

Bring on the holidays.