Blame the eldest. It's always their fault. I was all ready to go out, all ready to go buy those diet pills and even go to the gym. Today WAS going to be the day. But nooooooooooo. I forgot that eldest had to take my car so he could go to work today. His exhaust is shot. So, I WOULD have started my workout today but it is his fault.

So I stayed inside. I had BBC America on in the background. I love that channel. It's almost all I watch. I am still in my nightgown as I write this (it's 2:00pm). I spent the morning working on this diary, I am not a wiz at html. It's hunt and peck and trial and error. I made a photo album to show off the waterfall that MOTH made for me. Not an unproductive day at all, but certainly not a physically challenging one, unless you count that the mere act of sitting in this bloody backbreaking chair is a physical challenge!

The digital bastard was taunting me, calling to me all morning. After I lost another battle of intestinal war, I decided to defy the bastard and make him show me the effects of the raging war. Fuck me. 1 pound gain. I am sitting here watching "Headliners and Legends" about Cameren Diaz, and they said she once drank so much and got so sick she lost 7 pounds in an hour. What the hell?!?!?!

I am a mess. Eldest and Beast suddenly and without warning came home at about 3:30. I was stunned, disoriented even. I had calculated the approximate hours I had left to myself. I hadn't done 1/2 of the things I'd wanted to do. Important things like lie naked on the couch, listen to Enya music real loud without having to use headphones, watching Absolutely Fabulous for the gazillionth time without hearing "God, she's such a bitch, how can you watch this show?" You know, those kind of things.

But there they stood. And like any neurotic messed up jerk of a mother, I started crying. No, not the very second I saw them, but close. My kids should know by now, I mean after 14/17 years, they should know that while I appreciate spontaneity and surprise, a sudden change in plans in painful to me. Whiplash, I think it's called. I hate it.

So I stood there, suffering from painful whiplash, telling 2 of my kids that I hadn't expected them. Eldest said he thought I needed the car, and that was the only reason he came back. Beast played a good game, saying he was supposed to have taken her shopping for school clothes but that he decided instead to come home. She didn't WANT to come, but of course she was merely the passenger. Eldest played the guilt game pretty well, having learned it from the master (that would of course be me!). "We can go back if you want us to go."

DAMN! ~snif~ ~snif~ ~sob~

I didn't want my kids home so soon. And that made me feel so guilty that as I tried to explain, I burst into tears, making them feel about as appreciated as vaginal warts. The thing is, their dad's house burned down early this summer, and he is renting a house about 30 minutes away until it is habitable again. So the kids haven't wanted to be there with him (he has almost no furniture, no computer, only 1 small television and no video games so that he has as little to move back). Kids need two parents. They help take the heat off of each other. So for the first time since they were born, I have been the only parent. And it's taken its toll.

So I am crying, sobbing. And they are standing there probably thinking that Carol Brady would never have cried when her kids came home. Beast and Eldest exchange what appears to be knowing looks, and they say it's no problem, they understand, and they'll just go shopping and back to their dad's. Beast give me a big hug as she whispers: "Mom, did you take your estrogen?"

Little shit. How did she know?

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