Say what you will about Madonna, but I adore this photo.

And for me, this is so far the best quote in this saga.

"I assure you, it doesn't matter who you are or how much money you have, nothing goes fast in Africa," Madonna said, according to oprah.com. "There are no adoption laws in Malawi. And I was warned by my social worker that because there were no known laws in Malawi, they were more or less going to have to make them up as we went along."

CNN

HAHA! Madonna has a social worker! Ours sucked ASS and I hope hers is better, but seriously, this is the part that made this story more human for me. Well that and this part.

If Madonna gives David back, he will end up like his siblings — dead.

So yeah.

(And speaking of totally non-original post titles, apparently I'm incredibly succeptible. Like mind-control me in 2 minutes and I'll withdraw our life savings for you. Of course, it is like $40, but I'm just saying. Oh the point, I just saw Izzy's post called "Stop the Insanity" again and I have a post from later that day called "STOP the insanity!" Fuck I'm dumb. Sorry Izzy, totally a result of my moronic brain, and not some sort of pathetic plagiarism scheme gone awry!)

We're all Just Plain Tired™ here, so tonight is pizza night. I called the local joint that has the best 'za (I call it that because I'm cool) and asked for a delivery.

The guy on the phone had apparently been burning the midnight oil, or something else flammable, and smoky, and fragrant, and reminiscent of my college years, because it was quite the tricky conversation.

I first ordered a small pizza, half cheese, half salami (for the kids). Then I asked for a hot ham sub with everything (Mr. Plain) and a hot vegetarian sub with extra cheese (Me).

He then asked me if I wanted extra sausage on my veggie sub. Hmmm, that's a stumper. I probably would have ordered, say, the SAUSAGE SUB if that's what I had wanted. But maybe there's something magical about a veggie sub with sausage? Well, the world will never know, because after a few exchanges I straightened it out.

I asked for a couple of salads and was done. Then he read the order back to me. Two sandwiches and "would you like drinks with that?" I mentioned that I also ordered a pizza and he again said "would you like drinks with that?" Um.

Then I asked for the total for the order and he covered the mouthpiece. Then he started talking into the phone again but he was just repeating random prices. OK, I can sit and wait, no problem.

Then he says

The total is almost thirty dollars.

Um, OK, then I'll almost pay it? So I say "OK, almost thirty dollars, but how much?" And he says

I don't know, we're still figuring it out.

"We"

At least 2 guys were totalling our order. Awesome! I like guaranteed full-employment! Maybe one guy was pushing the buttons on the calculator, the other guy was working the phone. But who was doing the drink orders? Who was dealing with the walkup customers?

Oh the humanity!

I'm extremely curious to know what food we'll be eating tonight. And I just realized that he didn't mention the salads…

(Hey, what do you think of my new page background? Too bright? Too busy? Is it making your eyes bleed, or is it awesome? I'm from California, we talk like that.)

Talk about wanting to die. A coworker just moments ago told me she's quitting to stay home with the baby she had about 6 months ago. I'm disappointed because she and I were just about to start an interesting project together, but it seems like something she wants to do so I'm happy for her.

Until the very last thing she said to me. I said something like "I'm happy you get to do this" and she said that she was too, and that working wasn't working out for her, and "it just never felt right."

She said it to me. She knows I have 3 kids who go to morning daycare every day. While I go to work. Like a selfish bitch.

To her credit, and she really is a nice person, she blushed after she said it. And the conversation kind of ended there.

But still, I'm sitting here at my stupid cubicle and I want to cry.

This afternoon Mike was starting up with his daily torment-mom routine. So I sat down to play trains/duplos/lincoln logs with him and Robbie. You know, the old "he must want my attention" routine.

The three of us built a village with a train running through it, and it worked out well. Minimal fighting. But after about 30 minutes, Mike announced that

You can go work on your computer, Mommy. We're playing this.

So that was nice.

My kids can make a game out of anything. As you know, we stood in line for-freaking-ever on Sunday for flu shots. When we got home I heard Mike and Robbie out in the yard:

this is a really long line.

the doctor is going to help us stay healthy this year.

here comes spiderman!

And so on, now with more Revisionism! The way their pretend doctor visit ended was much better than the real one. They also have many games dealing with the TV shows they watch. Especially Go, Diego Go and Jack's Big Music Show.

But the game they have played for the longest time is called "babies in our tummies." I guess my pregnancy with Chip came at a particularly impressionable time for them, because this popular game shows no signs of fading away.

Want to play "babies in our tummies"? It's easy, here's how.

1. Grab a stuffed animal — at our house it is usually Grover and Elmo — and stick it under your shirt.
2. Run around yelling "there's a baby in my tummy!!"
3. Crash into your brother and roll around on the floor until someone cries.
4. repeat…

As part of Chip's Continuing Education series in how to be a Plain Boy, he likes to play this game too. But he has no idea what is going on. He'll grab a "baby" and run around the house shrieking. He'll throw in the word "Yikes" since that is, who knows why, what Robbie yells when he's running in the house.

Chip is a good mimic, but he frequently cracks me up because he gets things so out of context. For example, last night at dinner he said "mo wawa peese" pause "sure!" pause "da doo" (that's 'thank you') pause "yo wecome". Neat and easy for me, all I had to do was pour water and he took care of the conversational chores. Handy kid!

Or does anyone even remember Susan Powter anymore?

Anywhoo, Jessica's comment on my last post showed me that it's time for another confession.

Yeah, we had a huge outdoor play structure in our living room for many months. But it gets even better. Last Christmas Santa brought each boy one of those plastic ride-on cars. We kept them in in the house until late spring.

It was nuts but fun. The boys would race around the island in our small kitchen while Mr. Plain made dinner. They would use the cars as if they were building blocks and make tunnels and towers in the living room. They would stand on the roofs and give me a heart attack fearing they would fall and "you're gonna crack your head open!"

Our house isn't miniature, but it is quite small for five people. Add 3 huge plastic cars and boy oh boy it is a fiesta every day. Give it a try at your house today!

Today, like every day, Mike and Robbie have been playing outside for hours. Chip is napping, and I am essentially alone in the house to do work (my day job) and anything else I need to get done. On a good day like today, they only come in to get food or pee. Today it is sunny and in the high 70s and the livin is easy.

But winter is coming and even in California that means it gets cold. The sun will start setting sooner and the rains will come. As much as the boys love getting bundled up in rain gear and playing in the mud, my afternoons will get more complicated.

Two years ago this February I kind of lost it after a long winter. Everyone was napping and I went in the yard in the rain and washed and scrubbed half of our plastic play structure. And brought it in the living room of our small house. For several months.

What else could I do? Faced with (at the time) 2 crazy monkeys there was no other option. This winter, however, I think I'm going to have to find another way. I'm ready with warm clothes, great rain coats and boots, and cozy socks. Wish me luck!

Before I went to bed last night I went to check on the guys, and I noticed that Chip looked uncomfortable. Ever since he was tiny he has used his bear Rupert as a pillow, but lately he's been using his blanket instead. I decided it was time to give him a real pillow. He didn't wake up, but kind of sighed with happiness as I settled him onto it.

Later that night this is what I heard on the baby monitor:

[rustle rustle] Da doo Mommy! Da noo Mommy! [snoring]

"Thank you Mommy!" — so I guess he woke up and noticed it. Officially the only time I've ever laughed when woken by my kids at night.

In other news, No. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, damnit. Serves me right for getting excited for the lives I imagine others having!

The other night Mike was trying to tell me a story and he kept talking about The Jazz Man. It took me a bit, but I finally figured out that he meant "Jasmine" from Aladdin.

And here I thought that he was getting some Carole King at preschool!

When the Jazzman's testifying, a faithless man believes, he can sing you into paradise or bring you to your knees.

As I've said before, I post on my blog under the pseudonym 'Jane' and have given my kids the names of the boys from My Three Sons. I do this so that none of us turn up in google searches for our real names.

There's a new trend right now to do the same thing due to more serious privacy concerns. Check out Queen of the Bad Mommies and 8 Centimeters Deluded for some details. Oh, The Joys is going through the tedious process of changing old references to her kids' names to nicknames as we speak. (More power to you OTJ, but what a drag!)

I have been considering this post for several days, and frankly didn't want to get in the middle of all of this. I don't want shithead molesters emailing me or commenting on my blog because, well, they're shitheads. But I really want to get the word out about this issue so folks can be thinking about it. I'm far from trying to get everyone to use nicknames, but I do think everyone should be aware of the issue and make an informed decision.

I think giving air-time to fuckhead molesters by posting their rants isn't a perfect solution, but I'm very glad that these smart ladies are bringing this issue to the front. It is something everyone who blogs about their family should consider and then see where their comfort level is.