When I grow up, I want to be a tattoo artist.

My life is in complete disarray, to the point where I have surrendered: job limbo, kids that don't listen, leaky dog, unmatched socks, smeary wax build up. You name it. Each day at least 2 of the girls claims to be "too sick" to go to school, each day there is a call/note/email from a teacher about some aberrant behavior or other. There is only so much Fran to go around.

So you can imagine how I felt when, yesterday afternoon, when the Hubbins and I were talking on the phone -- we don't actually see each other anymore with my work schedule -- and he told me that this week in school Thing 3 is the "Star of the Week" in preschool and I was supposed to put together a photo montage of the last 4.5 years of her life and fill out a questionnaire, and hand it all in Monday.

Oh. Of course. I have my 4 year old in full time day care because I have time to rake through the thousands on photos on the buggy 4 year old computer to find the shots that define Thing 3's life. (BTW: Many thanks, Mr. Dreier. If I had gotten that new laptop for Christmas I'd just waste it on World of Warcraft.) The computer and the printer were having one of their little spats and not talking to each other, so I had to save the pix to a thumb drive and print them directly from the printer. Which is a ridiculously slow way to do it.

All told, I killed a full hour last night putting this assignment together. In billable time, that's $400. (Work in a lawfirm long enough and you begin to look at everything in life this way. The real cost of my coffee this morning was $82.)

It wasn't without its fun, I'll admit. The really cool thing about having a 13 year old and a 4 year old is that the 13 year old now says the things I would love to say, but I'm not supposed to because I'm a 38 year old Mom. (Can't tell you how many times I've gotten the evil eye from the Hubbins for acting like a child with our children for a laugh.) And the 4 year old thinks it is cool to do whatever her teenage sister tells her to do.

When the girls aren't trying to kill each other, it is a lot of fun.

So, last night, I was filling out the questionnaire with Thing 3, when Thing 1 happened by. I asked, "Favorite color?" Thing 3 responded, "Yellow." (Which, by the way, she has never shown any affinity for. When I pushed her on this, she pointed out her favorite wrapper from a loaf of bread as proof.) Anyway, we get to "When I grow up, I want to be," and Thing 1 blurts out, "a tattoo artist." Thing 3 says, "That's right -- a tattoo artist. And a grown up. And a teenager."

I totally wrote that down as her answer.