This morning at 4:20am, I was awakened for the second time by darling Oliver. First he was thirsty and needed to go to the bathroom (OK, great, but why this needed to involve me is unclear); then, wait for it, he was beset by dueling boogers, one in each "nose" as he calls his nostrils. "Mom, do you have Kleenexes?" "Of course, honey." "Can you help me with the boogers in my nose?" "OK." "First this side, yuk."

Yuk it was, and I'll spare you further detail.

"Now there is one in this nose." "Got it, Ol." "Where is Tool Sheet?" "Honey, I don't know. Please go back to bed." "OK, Mom. I love you. I want to kiss your nose."

This is all very dear but I suspect Oliver has mastered the art of loving, procrastinatory BS. Ya think?

By 5:40a, I was starting to feel hostile so hauled it down to the basement where I slept until 8:45, then woke with a start, raced upstairs to make sure everyone was fine, found that T had actually made lunches and was about to take the kids to camp (husband of the year) and then noticed a very strange tinge to Ol's legs. As I came to find out, he had taken it upon himself to color his body with black marker. Jack had very helpfully smothered Ol's back in this nightly hue, and then they had sort of air-brushed everything with their hands. Long story short, Oliver looked rather gray all over but it was too late to do anything so I simply sent yet another email to camp, this time clarifying that no, the children aren't filthy so please ignore all discoloration. Truly, it is always something. And I sometimes question my fatigue and spaciness. For the love... They are pretty amusing children most of the time so there's that.

I just got back from the doctor because two days ago, the baddest day, while in the dressing room of a favorite workout wear store indulging in some serious retail therapy, I noticed a golf ball-sized lump just to the left of my upper spine. I'm not much in the way of a physical health worrier, but this was odd so I scheduled a look-see. People, it seems it is a lipoma which is nothing more than a fat deposit. Is it all the ricotta I eat? Shite, this is just nasty but benign it is, so c'est la vie. The doctor said I could get it ultrasounded (ridiculous; this is the prob with our healthcare system; to his credit he did not recommend this!) or just wait and see. I'll just wait and see.

Always something.