Oh no, it’s not enough that I had to be in the hospital, have another surgery and spend hours of my life cleaning out a huge wound. It’s not even enough that the stitches my doctor kindly put in yesterday to speed the healing hurt like a motherf**ker. Nope.

I’ve apparently warped my daughter into the bargain.

Today at lunch Ironflower mentioned that she would never get married. Not that I’m in any rush for four year old to elope, but I was a little concerned that she was writing the whole process off at such a young age. I asked her why. She told me that it hurts. I was confused, until Hot Guy was able to explain.

She’s told him that she doesn’t want to have babies and “hurt like Mommy.”

I feel like such an asshole. A whiny, cranky, horrible asshole. Clearly I’ve complained too much. I’ve warped my kid. She’s going to wind up in therapy and it really will be all my fault.

How do I fix this?

And I really have to fix this, because Ironflower has enough issues on her own. Last night she was very curious about whether you go to the bathroom after you die.

Ironflower got a belated birthday present. I’m sure the gift was given in good faith. I’m fairly sure this person’s child did not receive the same gift for his birthday and that this person didn’t take one look at it and decide to regift it. But even if she did, I totally understand why.

Ironflower received a game called “Lucky Ducks”. It requires batteries. Unfortunately, we actually had the batteries. So Ironflower has been playing the game since yesterday. Lovebug and I have even played with her. The game is simple enough that she can play by herself or with her brother (without fighting). It’s a bit educational. But what it mostly is, is loud. The ducks quack throughout the ENTIRE game.

Which means that while Ironflower entertains herself for an hour - which is fantastic - the ducks quack for that entire hour. Which is not fantastic. In fact, it’s so annoying that I’m kinda hoping that the game breaks. Normally I can ignore - some would say all too easily - the noises my children and their toys make. But the mechanic quacking is DRIVING ME INSANE. And it’s not just me.

This afternoon Lovebug got up and ran away during a Lucky Ducks game. The conversation that ensued was illuminating:

Ironflower: Where are you going? The game’s not over.
Lovebug: NO! NO! NO DUCKS! I PLAY TRAINS!!!!!! NO DUCKS!

And ChunkyMonkey, who normally sleeps peacefully during the screams, shouts and thuds of his siblings, woke up when the Lucky Ducks game came on.

I’m telling you, these quacks are possibly the most annoying sound on the planet.How wrong would it be if the game disappeared suddenly? Or ran out of batteries?

And what the hell should I write in the thank-you note?

So the fantastic Silken at Madameblogalot has tagged me with the Honest Scrap Award. I am to share 10 honest things about myself that most people don’t know. Which has presented quite a challenge, because most things you all don’t know are things that NO ONE needs to know. So if you already knew some of these, I apologize.

1. I have a near pathological fear of dentists.

2. Animal House is one of my favorite movies.

3. I believe that no bands will ever measure up to Led Zeppelin or U2.

4. I’ve lived in Boston, Portland, OR, Seattle and Kansas City as well as Jersey.

(Wow. I am clearly not good at this.)

5. I don’t like reading poetry.

6. I have a HUGE CRUSH on Kevin Smith. Despite the poorly titled and pathetically acted “Jersey Girl” movie.

(Is that better?)

7. I am both saddened and relieved that ChunkyMonkey is my last baby.

8. I would rather have a day at the bookstore than at the spa.

9. I have never had Jaegermeister and not thrown up.

10. I cannot stand being touched while I’m sleeping, but I have no problem falling asleep on Hot Guy.

Now I am supposed to tag some other people. Because I love so many other bloggers, I just picked a few at random - who just happen to be wonderfully honest:

Matter of Fact Mommy

Dory at Can’t Remember Diddly

My cousin at Off Da Chain

But if you’d like to join in, consider yourself awarded.

Yesterday we had dinner at my parents’ house. This in itself is a regular occurrence as my mother is a fabulous cook, plus we like having outside confirmation that our children are brilliant little hellions. Anyway, one thing about eating at my parents’ house is that you are guaranteed to get a salad and a green vegetable (unlike when you eat at our house half the time, but that’s another blog). Usually I consider this a bonus, even though my children refuse to eat either. But yesterday the veggie was asparagus, which is a definite winner of the “Vegetables I Still Hate” award in my happy little world.

But I always put some on my plate to set a good example for my children. And to shut my parents and husband up. Anyway, usually the asparagus remains on my plate until it is carried out to the kitchen and surreptitiously dumped into the garbage can after dinner. But yesterday, right after I asked for more mashed potatoes, Ironflower piped up with, “But Mommy, your asparagus looks like it’s getting cold!”

Naturally, every eye went to my plate. My plate with it’s three lone stalks of asparagus among the dregs of pork roast and mashed potatoes. It was like being eight years old again, faced with eating the horrible asparagus so that I could leave the table and go play with my Barbies. Realizing that using my 8 year old solutions of whining and/or hiding the asparagus under bread crusts, I ate the asparagus. With a pleasant expression on my face so that my children would see that asparagus is yummy. Just like mashed potatoes.

But you know what? I still don’t think asparagus is yummy. And I think Ironflower could tell.

I seem to have forgotten to do a Christmas post.

Not wanting to dwell on past mistakes, I figured I’d make up for it with a New Year’s post. But then, um, I had to think of something New Years-ish to post about. I’m not posting my resolutions again. Because even though I totally lowered my expectations last year, I still didn’t stick with all of them. As I was desperately trying to think of a good topic reflecting on the holiday, I became distracted by the snow falling. At first, I was upset by the snow, as it might ruin the date night Hot Guy and I are having tonight (one where I get to DRINK ALCOHOL!). And then I realized then even if Hot Guy and I are stuck at my parents’ house WITH (instead of somewhere fun WITHOUT) the children, I’ve had so many bad New Year’s Eves that being snowbound at my parents’ is really just fine. And then I realized - POST TOPIC!!!!!!!!!!

A sample of my bad New Year’s Eves:

1986-1987:
A sophomore in high school, Jerseygirl leaves a fun party to accompany her best friend on a WALK across the ENTIRE town in FREEZING temperatures so that her best friend can be with her boyfriend at midnight. Upon arrival at the boyfriend’s house, best friend and boyfriend disappear upstairs and leave Jerseygirl with the boyfriend’s friends. While the guys are friends of Jerseygirl’s too, this was supposed to be a guy’s night. They are watching porn and have no interest in even talking to Jerseygirl. Jerseygirl spends night on the phone with other friends who are babysitting.

1992-1993
Visiting her new boyfriend (soon to be fiance, then husband, then evil ex-husband) in Seattle for the holiday, college senior Jerseygirl attends party with evil ex. Jerseygirl knows absolutely no one at the party and finds no one interested in knowing her. Jerseygirl smokes pot in pathetic attempt to fit in. Jerseygirl spends night curled in a ball on the host’s bed, as pot always makes her sleepy and nauseous.

1999-2000
In one the other episodes of her life that drove her towards internet dating, Jerseygirl spends New Year’s Eve at a club with her two other single friends, Tara and Rebecca. The trio meets a group of guys that are reasonably attractive and not total douchebags, so they all hang out together in a desperate attempt to stave of the feeling of loneliness that can happen at midnight when you have no one to kiss. Jerseygirl is the designated driver and Rebecca is not a big drinker so they quickly discover that the group of guys may, in fact, have douchebag qualities. While Rebecca and Jerseygirl are off dancing with less annoying guys, a drunken Tara decides that one of the douchebags is the man of her dreams. They disappear. The douchebags and our heroines search the club and the parking lot for Tara and man - er, boy, as it turns out he is only 19. Finally, it is discovered that Tara and the boy have gone back to the douchebags’ hotel. The douchebags are worried about their little brother dealing with a drunk chick and Rebecca and Jerseygirl are worried about their friend and a dumb 19 year old. Everyone rushes to the hotel. Tara is passed out by the indoor pool and 19 year old is drinking beer, singing country love songs and half-heartedly trying to wake her up. The douchebags carry Tara to their hotel room so she can throw up in their bathroom and not the pool. Then the gang watches T.V. while Tara pukes and 19 year old cries about the future of their long distance relationship (which never happened). Jerseygirl promises herself that she will never go to a club on New Year’s Eve again.