So here is a chart showing days of the week, starting with M for Monday which was May 19. No, 18. Sorry. A normal level of human suburbanite happiness is indicated for your reference.

Oh and R = Thursday and U = Sunday because I like labels to have the same number of letters so the spacing isn’t all wonky. Even though I just took up lots of space here explaining that just now. See why I don’t have a corporate job anymore?

Now here is my mood, with key events labeled along the way:

Adding to the stress was Graham, age three:

Nicolaus was oblivious to all of the turmoil. He’s been upbeat lately:

When things are hard, my already limited ability to focus and prioritize completely dissolves and I just react from one moment to the next. Here is how I ended up allocating my energy during this period:

For comparison, here is Graham’s energy budget over the last two weeks:

Nicolaus’ energy was better spent, I think:

I don’t want you to think that I don’t love Kevin just because he hasn’t been included. It’s just that I’ve spent so much time in a teeny little weird emotional tunnel that I can only guess at what he’s been focused on. Here are my best estimates:

So yeah. My Aunt Honey died very suddenly from a heart attack, and we’ve all been trying to absorb that. It’s so wrong. People are supposed to get sick and then decline gradually and then take a turn for the worse and then oh! Recover almost completely! And then get suddenly much much worse until they are in so much pain that everyone is relieved for them when they finally pass away. That is how considerate people die. Just earlier this month, we lost my great Aunt Barbara — but she cared enough to prepare us all with a long, slow decline. It was sad and surreal to finally say goodbye to her, but it wasn’t jarring.

My poor mother already had bronchitis when she found out that her sister had died. Crying made her cough which made her tired which made her sleep which made her want to jump up and go get on a plane and go be with her sister’s son and fix everything. She kept trying to get to San Antonio and got as far as holding a ticket and handing it to the person, but then almost passed out in the jetway because our bodies have incredible ways of saying to us Seriously, sweetie. Go the fuck home and rest.

She went home. She rested. Things are slowly returning to normal for everyone, but life is weird without my aunt being on this planet. Who is going to send me anti-establishment emails about vitamins?

It just sucks. I wasn’t able to get to the funeral, but I woke up at dawn one morning and wrote a eulogy because doing nothing feels so useless. I need to honor her in some tangible way. I have half a mind to go hold up a sign at the clinic down the street. The sign would say: Look, I Don’t Know Your Situation And I Really Can’t Say That I Know What Is Right Because This Is All Very Morally Complicated. But My Aunt Really Hopes You Will Not Do This Abortion.

Or maybe I should just donate to March of Dimes? Or run around town and hug all of the babies? Because my goodness, that crazy lady loved her some babies.

It’s been nearly two weeks since I’ve had any quiet minutes for internetting. Quiet alone minutes, like other kinds of minutes, are mainly available nights and weekends. They do not roll over. If you don’t enjoy them by the end of any given day, that is too bad. You missed your chance to unfrazzle yourself.

The kids left with Kevin over an hour ago, so I could have jumped online and started writing a post then but it has taken this long for the buzzing in my head to stop. Plus I made a snack and played tug of war with Roux for awhile. But mostly I’ve been sitting here, watching the shadows wave their branches on my turquoise IKEA curtains and listening to the sound of no one talking to me.

Last night as I fell asleep I imagined all of these charts and diagrams that would help me explain the last two weeks. Maybe I’ll do that during my alone time! Right now!

While I work on that, you can read these scattered thoughts that I would have posted had I been able to assemble words like a regular person:

1. I keep wanting to write a follow up post to Nicolaus’ future spouse, but every time I start to write it all I can think to say is God help you and No one will judge you for drinking. But on the upside, you will never be bored or without conversation and any problems you have will be solved using inventions made from objects found around the home. My best advice is to secure a job with a long, relaxing commute so that you have a little time to collect and arrange your thoughts before you get home.

2. Last night I was putting Graham to bed. The dog always thinks putting Graham to bed is my way of inviting him to jump on the bed and play with Graham, so I pushed him away. Pushing a dog away is dog language for “Hey! Yay! Let’s play a big game right now.” so there was a little confusion until finally Kevin heard the ruckus and called Roux out into the living room.

Graham snuggled down onto his pillow, grinned at me and whispered, “I scared Roux away, Mama. With my toot.”

3. He’s going through a thing where he thinks he is hilarious, but his idea of a great joke is to knock over whatever his brother is working on or pull the dog’s tail because haha I’m a crane and hey whoops! That’s not a rock, we picked up a puppy!

He also thinks me yelling at him is funny. Every punishment is funny, actually, which leads me to wonder if I’m not issuing these punishments properly. Like whenever someone is convicted of a crime the article about it always either says that the person showed no reaction to the sentencing OR the person was upset by it. They never said that the person looked right at the judge and smiled because oh my god, you are sending me to prison! GOOD one, judge! Haha.

4. Why does Taco Bell feel the need to add flour to their ground beef?

5. My freezer’s ice maker sounds like a tiny, distant Scottsman playing a bag pipe. I should investigate that, right? Or dance a little jig. Or not worry about it because we are renting and I am tired.

6. We got a sewing machine! I am historically scary and bad at sewing, but this time I am determined to learn. The first thing I did was sit down and try to make a shirt.

ME: I’m going to make a shirt!

KEVIN: Isn’t that a little ambitious?

ME: I’m going to make a shirt!

KEVIN: I just think you should start by sewing something easier.

ME: Like what?

KEVIN: I don’t know… a pillowcase?

ME: I’m going to make a shirt!

KEVIN: Well… good luck with that. Do you have a pattern?

ME: Patterns are for suckers. I turned a tank top inside out, traced it onto this here fabric and now I’m sewing it and it’s going to be totally easy and cute.

KEVIN: Are you sewing the neck shut?

ME: God damn it.

KEVIN: That sleeve is sewn shut too.

7. It turns out that I can’t draw anything while I type all of this. More later.

I’m not saying don’t marry him, unless you are some kind of grumpy whore, I’m just saying that it is good to know things. Before you get married.

1. HE CAN DO IT BY HIMSELF. I don’t have it in me to think about how that might impact a romantic situation with you but seriously, don’t offer to help him do ANYTHING ever unless you want a scene.

2. No matter how sad he is, if you look him in the eye and smile, he will smile too. Then it will piss him off that you made him lose focus. Then he’ll see the humor in that and laugh. Then he will call you the worst cuss word he can think of because you messed him up.

3. The worst cuss he knows is POOPIE. He makes up for its inherent mildness by saying it in a really mean voice.

4. He likes to cook. Expect many lovely dinners, most of which will include ice cream as a part of the main course. You will be able to choose a flavor, although he will be out of all but strawberry. Save yourself hours each week; go straight for the strawberry.

5. I hope you like corn. Dessert is usually corn.

6. He hurts himself almost daily. Please discourage him from skateboarding or skiing, and when youre married, don’t go with the PPO with the super high deductable.

7. He believes that Charlotte’s Web is a story about a spider who turned out to be a scientist. Because she could write big words in her web. Why did she do that? Because she is a scientist. Please don’t correct him on this one. It is too awesome.

8. He will pee basically wherever he happens to be. Everyone says “oh don’t worry, nobody goes off to college in diapers” but I’m pretty sure that’s only true because COLLEGES DO NOT ACCEPT applicants who aren’t potty trained. I mean, preschools around here only accept kids who are fully trained — Why would Stanford be any different? The tuition is the same, so I assume their policy on urination is too.
So anyway. Keep in mind when you shop for furniture.

9. He likes oatmeal, fruit, Mexican food, and pizza. He likes musical instruments. He likes being hugged a lot. He likes animals, cars, and putting things on top of other things . He likes symmetry.

He does not like being interrupted when he is building something, loud noises, big crowds, or being left out. Oh and he doesn’t like other kids that much but this shouldn’t be a big deal unless you work for make a wish or something.

10. He says that he is going to have ten kids someday. Which, I said the same thing until I had two. But I mainly don’t want to be pregnant ever again, so you know.

11. He has a natural talent for picking on people.
He found a small piece of a branch at the park and brought it home. It is about three inches long. He keeps it because it is perfect for putting on the floor around the apartment so he can say Mama! Roux pooped in the hallway! And then he can watch me freak out and go look and omg hahahaaa.

Think about that. The man you are going to spend the rest of your days with came up with the idea of fake dog poop before he was four years old.

12. I think you will mostly be happy. He is sweet and generous and helpful. Just think carefully before you make this greatest of life’s commitments. Seriously. Fake dog poop.

I needed to make an important phone call. It was important enough for level 5 meanness. I declared that I would have FIVE MINUTES with no fighting, disasters, interruptions, drink requests, questions, and/or demands that I help build a dirigible out of this poster tube and the last of our tinfoil. Five. Minutes.

When I returned, there was a silent boy at either end of our long couch. Each was concentrating very hard on something in his lap. Nicolaus had a paper towel tube, scissors, tape, and sheets of his old schoolwork. He was cutting the school paper into spikey confetti and stuffing it into the tube, which was taped to his wrist. In the other corner, Graham was working on a long fabric tape measure with several knots in it.

I whispered, “You guys are so quiet. What are you working on?”

“Oh, this,” Nicolaus didn’t look up, “We’re each working on plans to destroy the other. Each other. You know? We’re making things to just… destroy the other one.

I blinked. “Wow, okay. Tell me about what you’re making.”

“Sure. This end here attaches to my arm so if I need to use both hands to grab Graham? I’m able to let go and my cannon won’t fall. It can actually still fire even then if I need it to. This is the barrel and it’s going to be plugged up, but when I fling my hand like this? At him? It will release all of the stuff inside and everything in there is really sharp and will instantly incinerate him.”

As a mother I always want to encourage my sons to love and care for each other. But first I had to know what Graham’s plan was because this is funny stuff right here.

I whispered so as not to give away his surprise advantage. “Graham? Are you working on a plan to destroy your brother?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look up from his tape measure. He was pulling the knots apart.

“Can you tell me about your plan?”

He stopped working on the tape measure and whispered, “I’m going to find a army man and ask him: Hi, can I please borrow your tank for a second? and then I’m going to USE that tank to completely destroy my brother.”

“Oh! You think that plan will work?”

“Yeah. I’m going to ask him so nicely.”

Well? At least I’ve taught my children to ask nicely.

Nicolaus is in love with Mary Poppins. Not the movie but the actual lady herself, Mary Poppins. It’s that bag. How does she do that? We only saw 20 minutes of the movie and my goodness he spent the rest of the evening pretending to pull large things out of very small containers. Every time I acted amazed. Holy moly! How did you — wha?? He’s a witch!! Kill him!

Graham, meanwhile, is a kitty. I just thought you should know.

Today the kitty announced that this was a happy day, partly because of a rule we have: any time I get a new wholesale account OR a bit of press, the boys each get a donut from Krispy Kreme. Thanks to this article, for which I was interviewed whilst on a good bit of cold medicine, Graham and Nicolaus scored a donut today and so oh! happy day. We also spent a good bit of the afternoon playing outside during a short break between tornado watches. There were some great puddles to splash in, great enough to ignore the threat of having to go inside, the threat of having all of their toys taken away, the threat of big enormous unending timeouts. They expressed zero remorse as I marched them with their muddy sandals and cold, soaked feet back inside. Totally worth it.

Now there are some photographs.

Shit. I can’t find my card reader. Tomorrow there will be photographs.