Not to be a bitch, but….

Consider this your Christmas card.

Seriously, it’s the best I can do this year.

chuck e. chaos

From Reverie‘s this morning:

The next time you’re thinking of taking your kids to the Chuck E. Cheese in Milwaukee, remember to leave your “knives, chains, screwdrivers and glass cutters” at home, reports Anna Prior in the Wall Street Journal (12/9/08). The “gangster-style apparel” isn’t allowed, either. Incredibly, these rules are for real and were made necessary after a few too many calls to the local police station to break up fights at Chuck E. Cheese, the family-oriented restaurant “where a kid can be a kid,” or so it’s advertised. Apparently, at some locations, it’s more like a place where adults can be juveniles, or even animals … where “beasts rush to protect their young when they sense a threat.”

“There’s a biker bar down the street and we barely get any calls there,” says Timothy Imler, police chief in Brookfield, Wisconsin, where some 12 Chuck E. Cheese fights have occurred since January 2007. “We’ve had some unfortunate and unusual altercations between adults at these locations,” acknowledges Richard Huston, the chain’s evp of marketing. According to law-enforcement officials, “alcohol, loud noise, thick crowds and the high emotions of children’s birthday parties make the restaurants more prone to disputes than other family-entertainment venues.” Frank Farley of Temple University meanwhile points to a certain “mama-bear instinct.”

He explains: “It is part of the species, in fact — in the animal kingdon … We do it all the time.” Of course this is not at all what Nolan Bushnell, founder of Atari, had in mind when he opened the first Chuck E. Cheese in San Jose in 1977. He envisioned a place “where young people could play games in a family atmosphere.” Unfortunately, it is precisely the allure of inexpensive videogames that not only brings in an unsavory element, but also create flashpoints for disputes. It doesn’t help that the chain tends to locate in high-crime neighborhoods, either. Some restaurants have stopped serving alcohol, but Richard Hutson says they won’t make the games more expensive to deter thuggery because that would be “inconsistent with our value message.”

I’m really tired.

I am an insomniac.

I was a recovering insomniac, but no longer I’m recovering.

What I mean is, I’m not sleeping. Before I found a doctor who would help me find a serious solution to the lack of sleep, I was tired. Bone tired. I was living on 3-4 hours a night. Tops.

But I got used to it. I’d get up and work or read or watch tv. I wasn’t really all that depressed about it most of the time. I developed good habits like not having a tv in the bedroom and not laying there wishing I was asleep and stuff like that. I read every – single – article – ever – written – that talked about how to overcome insomnia.

Nothing worked. I tried herbs and acupuncture and wine. I even tried Tylenol PM. Admittedly, the Tylenol PM worked on occasion but I’d pay for it with groggy-head the next day. My doc gave me a 10-day trial of one of the fancy sleep medications and it worked great. But she wouldn’t let me take it long-term.

That was a bit of a tease, no?

And then, crying in my new internist’s office (clearly, the old one wasn’t helping), she said she could help me. She put me on a medication that was non-addictive.

And for TWO YEARS I slept. Not straight through, mind you, but for a reasonable amount of time every night. Well, almost every night. But close enough. It was a miracle.

A miracle, I say.

That doc started a membership practice and I didn’t follow her. I couldn’t justify the additional expense. And the new, new doc was absolutely honky dory with the meds I was taking. So all was well in the world again.

Until. It. Stopped. Working.

So I’m experimenting again. Trying different doses. And different meds.

And I’m really tired.

The point of this post? Honestly, I guess I just needed to vent. Or whine might be a better term. Poor Andrew must be sick and tired of hearing it. Oh and speaking of Andrew? His sleep is totally wrecked when I’m like this. I mean, can you imagine sharing a bed with a cranky, awake, tired person who can’t seem to find a comfortable position?

I guess I’m going to have to start getting up again when I can’t stay asleep so at least one of us can be well-rested.

Maybe I’ll finally get those photo albums organized.

Full disclosure: that is not my bed. Isn’t it nice though? I particulary like the photo of the bed above the bed. It’s from Stock Exchange. Great stuff to be found there.

A jar of love.

I spent a lot of time this weekend organizing.

If you’re like me, you know that means I spent a lot of time looking at pictures and reading school papers.

And I found this great painted jar. It’s painted with x’s and o’s -hugs and kisses galore. It’s a preschool gift from one of the boys.

And do you see what it’s stuffed with?

All that love is very distracting.

I’m lucky I got anything done.

Couldn’t resist.

Kate shows off her winning hand.

To state the obvious.

or closer up, so you can really see….

What can I say? The kid is a stitch.

50 Years.

My father has never, and I mean never, waited until an actual occaison to give a gift. He thinks about it early, buys it early, and gives it early.

He just can’t wait.

So, it’s 81 days until my parents’ 1,576,800,000 second anniverary. (That’s 50 years if you don’t want to do the math.)

He gave her this medal last weekend.

I guess it’s because she’s always said she deserved a medal of honor for her part in the marriage.

I know that I’ve learned from my parents that when both parties think they’re giving way more and taking way less, that it’s probably even. And that happiness is a decision. And that it takes effort.

So Happy Anniversary to my parents. 81 days early.

(I’ll be back!)