Nickety

Back Like a Bad Habit

2010-02-26T23:34:00.003-07:00

Well.

Here we are.

A quick summary: we moved, we settled, we have resumed the daily grind. New school, some new friends, a few new adventures. The kids are in Scouts and swimming lessons, with soccer starting in the spring. We have a new kitty, named Jack. He is poofy and fluffy, and super skittish with people, though he adores Pip, his BFF. Fran is happy that the boys chum around together and leave her alone.

I am plotting some painting, to change up the heinous orangey colour we currently have in our living room. And then it occurred to me that we don't have to live with the bandage colour on the kitchen cabinets...so there's another leeeetle project (there's only about a million doors and drawer fronts to remove and paint). Should keep us busy all spring/summer.

One of my favouritest things about this house is that I now have a huge, window-filled sewing room. It is teh awsum. My mind is in that room most of the time, even when my body cannot be. Right now I am working on a copy of my favourite blue jeans, a project I have been planning for about a year. Intimidation kept me from beginning for a long time, but now that I have dived in, I am really impressed at how well it's all going. I'm so excited to see how they turn out--and pumped to start the next pair!

Fighting illness....crushing fatigue....fingers too tired....to type.....

BREAKING NEWS: I AM A MORON

2009-07-01T23:08:00.003-06:00

I had to do it. I had to put it right there on the internet for everyone to see. Not that anyone looked (*crickets chirping*), but still. I typed the word "unstressed." Right there near the top of my last post. See it? (*crickets chirping*) Right.

So today was shaping up to be pretty chill. We headed to the lake with Grandpa to partake in the first boat ride of the season. Before we left, I sort of scanned the house, noted that it was a bit of a sty, and went, "Eh, we'll get to it later/tomorrow." Then we all piled into the van and drove far, far away. Okay, we only drove for an hour or so--in Alberta that's like the next neighbourhood over.

We pulled into a parking space near the boat launch, and my phone rang. It was our realtor. Someone wanted to see our house! This was exciting, we hadn't had one single showing yet and we were beginning to feel slightly offended by it. Then he told us when they wanted to see the house, and things got a little more exciting. We whipped the carseats into Grandpa's truck, and I sped back into town solo, to whip the house back into shape. I only took two wrong turns on the way back home (shoulda paid more attention on the way out) and got home with roughly 45 minutes to make the house look perfect.

There were dirty dishes in the sink and on the stove. There were (heavy) moving boxes near the back door. There was (clean) laundry heaped in baskets in the laundry room. There was an appalling amount of dried foody bits scattered under the table. There were two cats and their accoutrements (water, food, poo, etc) to spirit away. I sprinted through the house, wiping, hiding, vacuuming, sweating. In the end, I dashed out, kitties in tow, with about 5 minutes to spare. Then I skulked around the neighbourhood and stalked my own house, to discover that they didn't show up until very near the end of the hour allotted to them. All those precious minutes I could have spent mopping/dusting/sprinkling unicorn tears in an effort to SELL THIS HOUSE! Ah well, I think it looked purty darn good. I even hid the empty beer cans. And stashed a crusty pan in the cupboard.

AND, there was another showing an hour after that one. I am waiting for the offers to roll in! Come on people, throw your money at me! Gently, but insistently!

I learned a valuable lesson today: driving to the lake is a regrettable waste of time. No, wait--procrastination will pretty much always bite you in the ass. Yeah, that's it. But the lake thing sucked too. Are the bugs always that big out there? Next time I'm staying home to compulsively dust things.

The Final Countdown

2009-06-30T23:30:00.003-06:00

It's coming up fast now. 10 days until we take possession of the new place. 10 days to pack.

Whew, I think I just hyperventilated a little bit there.

Mostly I am feeling strangely unstressed about it all, actually. Sure, I'm laying awake until the wee hours every night, remembering all the THINGS I NEED TO REMEMBER TO DO, ON PAIN OF DEATH (lawyers, realtors, documents, handing over vast sums of money boo hoo, blah blah blah), but honestly? I am handling it all very well. No hives, even!

Today I packed up the kids and we drove downtown to drop off some paperwork. I found a great parking spot, had juuuuust enough change to plug the meter, we found the correct address semi-quickly (why don't all those buildings have their addresses more prominently displayed? We had to walk halfway down the wrong street before I could find a building number anywhere), everyone kept their pants dry--even me! ha, couldn't resist a cheap shot, even at myself--and once in the correct office we were served quickly and pleasantly.

The kids were relatively awesome about it all, and I only had to get a little ominous while enforcing the handholding-while-crossing-street rule, so to demonstrate my resultant joie de vivre I took the kids to the museum where we stayed for HOURS. At least two of those hours were spent repeatedly shuttling J and his tiny, tiny bladder to the bathroom, where I had to inform my dismayed Big Boys that they had to come in the ladies' room with me. Who knew a 7 year old could do bershon so well?

After the museum kicked us out we swam upstream through stat-holiday-eve (Happy Birfday, Canada!) rush hour traffic, and got home just as the clock struck Dinnertime. I managed to pull together a meal in 15 minutes, because I rock. Or maybe because I took the easy way out and heated something up. I'll never tell.

Once we'd filled our faces, I took G out on a date, as reward/reinforcement for his suddenly agreeing with his parents, grandparents, and pretty much everyone else in the world that consistently using the toilet, no nagging or hovering necessary, is a good idea. And oh man, it is SUCH a good idea. I only wish he'd agreed with me about 2.5 years ago when we started the toileting process. But who's counting? To celebrate achieving what was beginning to look unachievable, we took ourselves to yonder cinema, donned the geeky glasses and watched "Up" in 3D. It was a great show. Except for that bit where they made me cry.

I do enjoy Pixar's films. But why oh why do they suckerpunch me every time? You'd think I'd have learned by now, it's not like they stray from the formula. They give you five minutes of happy and cute, sweetness and light, and then BAM someone is dead. Remember "Finding Nemo?" I still can't watch the first bit where--spoiler alert!--Mom and a hundred or so of Nemo's siblings get munched up. I'm going to start arriving 10 minutes late, so the downer bit is out of the way before I begin watching. I'm pretty sure I can pick up the storyline, no problem. Or maybe I'll bring the laptop and watch something uplifting until the weepy part has passed. Nobody would mind, right? It wouldn't be hard to concentrate on a feature film with, say, this playing quietly in the theatre, am I right?

God, that video makes me happy. If the next 10 days--10 days!!-- start to bring me down, I will put it on continuous loop.

Can't Hardly Wait

2009-06-17T19:37:00.003-06:00

We have been busy like beavers here. Our house is on the market as of today, and there is a big, lovely house awaiting us (we take possession in three weeks!!) in my dream neighbourhood. The past few weeks have been spent clearing five years' worth of clutter from this house, and making what was left look as nice as possible. Now we just have to keep it all looking perfect in case anyone wants to come look and shower us with money for the privelege of living here. No pressure.

Actually, the kids have been quite great about humouring their uptight mother. "Don't touch that!" "Put that back!" "You're not going to play with those toys, are you?" "Stop having fun! It's too messy!" We are just going to find as much to do away from the house as we can, outings galore.

We were housebound this week, as the kids all fell ill again. This time was pretty rough--many, many days (and nights) of fever, a bit of barf, and a dash of diarrhea for good measure. G was the first to fall, and then N and J soon after. Poor G slept away a couple of days, and looks a bit skinnier now than he did a week ago. Upon our return to school today (which I wasn't entirely sure was a good idea, since he's still coughing so much), the teachers handed me a notice from the public health board stating that there has been a confirmed case of swine flu at the school. Hmm. I had been thinking about taking G to the doc, but just when I got to the "if he's not better by tomorrow" point, he got better. J is still fevery, and now I'm getting The Sick. I wonder if he and I should swing by a walk-in clinic tomorrow? I hate to drag my germy children through a waiting room full of people who are already not well. I also hate to be branded with the leperous swine flu tag. Perhaps if I call our regular doc ahead of time, they could meet us at the door with hazmat suits, or usher us inside via a secret, underground corridor. Then they can draw blood and marvel at its greenish hue before plastering a flourescent warning sticker on us and shoving us out into the cold. Wait, it's really hot out--before shoving us out into the blistering heat.

Gee, I hope we get a ton of interest in the house this week so I can drag my fevered, sweating carcass, cats and children in tow, to find Something Fun to occupy a couple of hours.

Okay, the new house--I feel like it's too awesome for us. Should we be allowed to live somewhere so awesome? Have we exceeded our awesome allowance? Firstly, it's big. It's really big. It's bigger than we need. Second, it's updated. We don't need to redo floors or rip out a kitchen or anything. Alright, so there's a few fixy bits to take care of, but it looks all purty inside. Finally, and most importantly, it's in an amazing location. There are places to walk to! The streets are lined with trees! The neighbouring yards are well-kept!

I have been so preoccupied with making this place look like a lovely, inviting home that I have given little thought to the lovely, inviting home waiting for us. I'm starting to get excited now.

Of Fancy Pants and Stinky Pants

2009-05-17T00:03:00.003-06:00

My fancypants morning coffees are much fancier in the pants than I'd dreamed. After one day of drinking perfectly nice moka-pot coffee, I was presented with a Mother's Day present of a real, actual, shiny espresso machine. Woo! Puts my little $10 coffee pot to shame. It still looks sweet sitting on the counter next to the shiny, shiny machine.

The kids are abed (cuddled up together in my room) and Husband is out for a night of poker. It is dark and quiet in the house, and I keep hearing neighbours outside, which makes me sit up straight and stiff the way dogs do when they hear a deer clear its throat four miles away. I am paranoid that one kid will wake and disturb the others, which is the downside of having the three of them sleep together. They were up late for the second night in a row (long weekend, yo!), and I want them to sleep well and not be total poops tomorrow.

Speaking of poops--and what a marvelous segue that is--J is terribly squirty from the bum this week. The poor kid shat down his legs three times today, and his little nethers are red and sore. I have been doing the grossest laundry imaginable, and there is no end in sight. I ran out to get Pedialyte today because he is shooting so much liquid out his rear that I am expecting him to shrivel up like a stinky little raisin soon. Fortunately, he thinks that stuff is nectar of the gods, so he must be at least reasonably hydrated now. He is miffed that I won't let him have dairy, but he is happy as heck to eat plain rice cakes. Small victories.

J's nasty sickbutt forced us to change plans on Friday night, since the littles were going to hang with Grandpa, and we decided not to inflict the liquid poo on a poor, defenceless, old man with a bad knee. N was performing his Happy Drummer dance at a Chinese song and dance night (they had a more refined name for the evening which I cannot currently recall), and we opted to leave the shorter attention spans at home. So N and I wolfed dinner and left his dad and brothers to run downtown to an arts school, where the theater was located. We pulled up to the (totally unfamiliar) building and I realized that nobody was there. Poor N was getting a bit worried, as we were already a few minutes late and we had no idea where we needed to be. We started jogging around the building, looking for signage or some other clue to point us in the right direction, when a stranger pulled her car over and told us she could show us where to go. I guess N's blue satin pants with gold sequins were a tip-off that we were looking for the theater (what, these old things?).

I love that lady--she told us to hop into her car, then drove us all the way around the block to a totally different building that I didn't even know was part of the school. I would never have found the place on my own! She dropped us right at the door, bless her, then toodled off to find parking. The serendipity train just kept right on rolling--now we were at the right building, but where the heck were we supposed to go once we got inside? N's classmate M arrived just then, and we tagged along and ran downstairs through a maze I couldn't have navigated without assistance. I was so, so grateful for the well-timed help. And I felt a little like a dolt for not knowing where we should be. Bad mom!

All's well that ends well; N was so blasted cute onstage, and enjoyed himself thoroughly. I was reminded again that I really need to get schooled in the Mandarin language, because I would have loved to understand even a bit of the emcee chitchat. We watched several acts after his performance was finished, and then we cut out to grab ice cream on the way home. He was floating all night. Next week he does it again at a different venue, and this time I will have DETAILS about precisely where we need to be and how to get there. And we will leave early.

And after cancelling the Grandpa and making Husband stay home, J's bum stayed explosionless all night. Ah well. (He made up for it today.)

Yadda Yadda

2009-05-08T22:40:00.003-06:00

Lessee, last time I posted, I was recovering from a nasty flu. That's right about where I am this time too, only it was a much nastier version this time. (Swine flu? Doubtful.) Fortunately, nobody else in my family was felled.

My birthday boys had a lovely party together, and I am so happy that I didn't have to do two parties. It worked really well, and I loved watching them all run around like a pack of deranged, beautiful animals. The weather cooperated, and we managed to get a bit of outdoor playtime, trotting out the bouncy house again. (I'm sure the neighbours are sick to death of listening to the fan start up every time my kids are in the yard, but man, we've really gotten our money's worth out of that thing.) My trick cake (slices of pound cake with orangey icing in the middle, to look like grilled cheese sandwiches) fooled them all--unfortunately, they were so convinced that they politely declined to eat any. "No, it's really cake!" I told them. "Honest!" They remained dubious. Even the kids who politely agreed to the crazy sandwich-pusher ate the other stuff and left the cake. Lesson learned.

So now I am mother to a 3 year old, a 4 year old, and a 7 year old. Whoa. Those kids are practically senior citizens--how did they get so damn old? Their advanced ages are really apparent lately because I have been reacquainting myself with their baby photos. All of our photos from 2002 (the year of N's birth) through 2005 (the year after G was born) were stored in a computer that suddenly died one day. I was so worried that the photos would be irretrievable that I refused to address the issue for four years. The computer tower has been stored in the basement, waiting for the day that I would admit it was time to take it to a shop for data recovery. That day finally came last week, and despite my adding to the challenge by DROPPING IT ON THE CONCRETE as I struggled to carry it into the building, they saved every last photo and video. Bless those geeks, I could kiss every last one of them.

Since then, I have been obssessively clicking through photo after photo after video after photo of the most amazingly gorgeous babies in the history of the world. Seriously, I make cute kids. And oh, how I miss those chubby thighs! Not that I am really jonesing to gestate another one--but now they're all so large and gangly and ancient. I'm just a little wistful, is all. It really does go fast.

My dad popped in this week, delighting the boys beyond measure. Every night before bed, J would hug him, then give him the Serious Eyes and tell him sternly, "You don't go anywhere while I am sleeping, alright?" Apparently he was deeply scarred by a previous stealth exit by my dad, which none of us remember.

I did the morning school run today (usually Husband's jurisdiction), and slept later than I'd planned. When you don't set an alarm because you are always up by a certain time, you are pretty much guaranteed to sleep well past that certain time. Fortunately, the kids were on the ball and woke me in time to put on some pants and brush my teeth before we had to dash to school. And that's about as far as I got with making myself presentable today. No makeup, unwashed hair, no bra! Egads. And I went out three times, dropping off kids, picking them up, running errands...I feel a tiny bit rebellious, but also a bit like I just proved a point I already knew to be true. Like, surprise, the entire city didn't issue a collective gasp at the sight of me without makeup...though my greasy hair may have earned a sideways glance or two. Whatevs.

I have been knocking a few longstanding items off my to-do list, and it feels GOOD. Today I finally fixed the latch strike on the front door, which has been nonfunctional for, oh, about two years. The door wouldn't latch when we closed it, and we had to turn the bolt to keep it from blowing open with a breeze. My dad found a replacement and removed the old one, and then it stayed like that for several months. To be fair, it wouldn't have been a pleasant job to do in the dead of a harsh winter, what with the working in the open doorway. Today I locked the curious kitty in the bathroom and bashed a chisel into the doorframe for a while, and now there is a most satisfying click when the door is closed. Yay! Last week I installed blinds in two windows which have been nude for the five years we have lived here. Go me! I'm on a roll.

I have been coveting a home espresso machine lately, but simply cannot justify the cost. So today I impulsively bought something like this (mine has a glossy white enamel on the top half), all giddy to come home and try it out with the finely ground espresso I'd inadvertently bought instead of regular ol' coffee. Alas, I discovered that all that finely ground espresso had been used up, because we just dumped it into our regular ol' coffee maker anyway. Thwarted! By the time I picked up some more, it was too late to be indulging in caffeinated anything, so my taste test will have to be in the morning. Now I just need one of these, and I'll be set. Woohoo! Now I can feel all fancy-pants with my morning coffee. Can't wait!

Fever! In The Morning, Fever All Through The Night

2009-03-29T22:51:00.003-06:00

I am cuddled up to a slightly fevery boy. I was going to write "baby," but that's not really correct anymore. Baby J is going to be 3 in less than a month. Ouch.

He and I have a rotten cold/flu/walking death thing, though I have to say he's gotten the worst of it. Last night he was so hot it was worrisome--fevers are not something that typically shake me, but this one was persistent in the face of Tylenol and Advil, and that had me sleeping very, very lightly. The fever broke sometime during the night, but by morning his little hand, still wrapped around mine as he slept, was aflame again. Now he's got a regular old garden-variety fever, held easily at bay with one medication at a time. But he still gets to sleep with mama so she can check his temperature, by way of a kiss on the forehead, several times through the night.

The bigs are watching Star Wars with daddy right now, even though it's long past bedtime. The day was turning into a bit of a nightmare, so naps were dispensed all round and evening was salvaged. But a nap at 4 pm means bedtime is out the window. For them, anyway--I will be nodding off shortly.

Birthday Mania is about to set in. I was starting to wonder how we could possibly cram two birthday parties into the same month (with at least three other parties to attend), when I asked N if he would mind having a joint party with J. I thought he might feel ripped off, but au contraire, he lit up. Two cakes? Sold! Now I kind of wish I'd had all three boys in the same month, so I could just have one party.

Of course, if I were going to map out due dates, I don't know that I'd choose April. Sure, it sounds lovely, but the reality of April here is slush and mud and exasperation at the snail's pace of spring. We've had a spate of deceptively sunny days, bright and beckoning, but packing a bone-chilling breeze. Today was purely gorgeous though, warm sunbeams (the better for napping in) and mild air, all promises of beautiful days to come.

Not that I should complain, we were lucky enough recently to pack up and spend two weeks in lovely Mexico. We even managed to time it so we missed a record-breaking cold snap. Yay, us! I was terribly nervous about travelling with the kids, but they were marvelous. They loved every minute of the trip, even the turbulence we flew through as we made our descent into Cancun. The gut-dropping lurches and bumps made them shriek and howl...with laughter. Their delight eased the tension, and more than one passenger smiled and relaxed a bit to hear them (myself included). I was honestly rather proud of them--and I loved that they found such joy in that bumpy ride.

We crammed a lot into that vacation. The kids had never seen the ocean before (except N, as a toddler), and while the bigs were sufficiently impressed, J was intimidated and preferred to play in the sand, a safe distance away from the waves. There was snorkelling and diving and swimming, in pools and cenotes as well as the ocean. We took a day trip back into Cancun to swim with dolphins. We saw monkeys (one even bit N--but didn't break the skin) and lizards galore, and the kids had their photo taken with a toucan. Daddy and the bigs snorkelled and saw sea turtles, while I waited with J on a glass-bottomed boat and tried not to hurl. A good time was had by all.

Back at the homestead, we are spring cleaning and purging, and finishing up some housey projects. I am getting ready to dismantle my sewing room, weed through all my supplies, and reassemble the space with some new (to me) furniture. I am so excited! I may even paint in there and really prettify it. I wish I had more space than that teensy little room--I have several vintage machines that are just sort of shoved in there, and that is a crime. They should be displayed, admired (even if only by me), and ready to use at a moment's notice. The most beautiful of all my machines is an old Singer, ca 1929 (I think), in a bentwood case, given to me by my grandmother. What a wonderful gift! Just thinking about it makes me want to call her to thank her again. She was so excited to give it, knowing I would really value it. Suddenly I am wishing I could give her a great big hug.

Phew, I think I have almost run out of stuff to say. No, not really, I'm just too tired to continue. Happily, J's forehead is nice and cool (smooch), so maybe I can sleep better tonight.

Right On Schedule

2008-12-13T20:57:00.002-07:00

Here I am, ready for my post of the month. Honestly, I do try to get around to it more frequently. I am a better reader than writer.

I forgot to mention it last month, I gave in and we have another kitty. His name is Pip, and he's an utter turd. He is relentless in his quest to taste every single food-like substance in the house. I am constantly correcting/redirecting/shoving/bitchslapping/spraying water on him, and I still find evidence of his misdeeds when I get up in the morning or return from an outing. Not that he's stealthy--his jackassery is exercised regardless of my presence. But we like him anyway, annoying little bugger. Even Fran pulls her punches sometimes.

Baby J is still giving me heart attacks on a weekly basis, or thereabouts. Last week I stepped into N's classroom for a moment during the wildly overcrowded pandemonium of pick-up time, and when I stepped back out, J was gone. I barked at the big kids to staytheredon'tyoudaremoveamuscle, and swam upstream through the slow, slow, crush of children and backpacks. I wanted very badly to just pick up bodies and throw them out of my way, but I refrained. I got to the front door where my spidey sense told me he was headed, and I still didn't see him...until I looked through the doors. That's about when my heart stopped, because there he was, ACROSS THE STREET.

I'm not sure if he was looking for me, or just felt like being on the move, but I guess he'd just gone with the flow of people, through the doors which someone helpfully held open for him (they're too heavy for him to open himself), acting all casual and looking like he was with whoever was nearest. A mom from G's class was talking to him, since she knew who he belonged to and could see that I was nowhere in sight. He was looking a bit upset (because he'd been stopped? because a Strange Lady was talking to him? I don't know), but he seemed relieved to see me. I had a sickening surge of what if, and then a flood of relief, and then a brief, explosive flash of irrational rage at every single person around for letting him out of the building and not noticing that he was alone and not stopping him. Those jerks!

To subsequent pop-quizzes about Where You Should Go When You Can't Find Mama (correct answer: notoutdoors to the office, notoutdoors where Mama will come to collect you notoutdoors), J answers, "Out." I'm sorry sir, that is COMPLETELY FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE. I know I've said it before, but I really am going to keep that kid tied to me.

The last heart attack he gave me was when we were visiting friends and he trekked across the living room, up a step, through the dining room and into the kitchen while carrying their teeny, precious, floppy-necked, 8 week old baby. To his credit, he carried her very well, cradling her head nicely. She was comfortable and content, and he was terribly proud--until the moms noticed and flipped our wigs. Poor boy, he didn't know what he'd done wrong, just that something was very uncool. He stood, looking at the floor, bottom lip stuck wayyyyy out, while I hugged him and struggled (with minimal success) to not burst into tears in mortification and relief. That one made an impression on him, and now when he sees the baby, he volunteers, "I sit on couch to cuddle baby." Yes dear, that would be a good idea.

This week his sleep has inexplicably swung into Shittyville. We seem to have cycles of great sleep, and then phase into awful nights that leave us all hollow shells of our former selves. This time I am blaming a combination of new molars and a full moon. Whatever the reason, we found ourselves recently with J in our bed, which I don't actually mind--when he sleeps. When he wakes and grumbles about something or other every 15 minutes or so, it's not such a warm family scene. At about 3 am, he woke me to fearfully show me the "big scary thing up there." A tiny light from the laptop beside the bed was casting a large, dim shadow of the bedside lamp. I sleepily mumbled that it was okay, just a lamp, not scary, see? I groped around and jerked the lamp over a bit, to show him how the whole shadow thing worked, but he hadn't taken his terrified eyes off the shadow to watch what I was doing. What he saw was the huge, dark thing, which had been looming above him, suddenly lurch menacingly toward him. He loosed a bloodcurdling scream in my ear and dove into me, burying his face in my neck and clinging to me for dear life. We showed him how the shadow was made, and I extinguished the light, but he requested his own bed. Predictably, he was still too scared to sleep in his own bed, and eventually came back to ours...then wanted his own again...then ours, etc, etc. It was about two hours before we got back to sleep. Ugh.

I am ready to drop...looks like poor G and N will have to wait until next month. Sorry boys, you just haven't done anything spectacularly horrifying lately. And that is okay by me.

Whoa

2008-11-21T16:56:00.002-07:00

It has been a long, long time since I have posted. There are the usual reasons (too tired, too busy, too lazy, blah blah blah) and there really is no reason at all. I just didn't.

But I've been thinking about coming back to it for a time now, and I guess this relatively quiet moment while the kids are communing with Spongebob will do just fine. Also it means I can put off washing dishes for a little while.

Lessee, new news...um, back to school. Finally feels like we are getting back into the rhythm of school days again. It still sucks. I wish we could chill and sleep in and have playdates whenever we wanted. I realize that homeschooling would accomplish some of that, but there would be a lot less chilling involved if I were to take on schooling my kids. Besides, I would probably have a tough time keeping up with the Mandarin language instruction my kids get from their bilingual school. I am already feeling over my head just helping N with his Gr. 1 homework.

The first report card of the year came home today, and N is doing great. An attached note explained that it's too early in the year for them to accurately assign percentages to their progress, so they are using "excellent," "satisfactory," etc. N is doing "excellent" work across the board, except for music class, where he is "satisfactory." Apparently the kid can't carry a tune, which even my biased ears have noticed. But he enjoys it and works at it, which is really the point.

G doesn't get a progress report today, as his preschool is not part of the same school system. One of his teachers mentioned recently that he needs a little fine motor skill finessing, but I'm not overly concerned. He wrote a little story today (okay, it was one sentence, but it did run on quite a bit) and did all the lettering himself. He was terribly proud, as was I. He is turning into quite a little reader, sounding out words with no help. I love watching my kids turn into book lovers.

Baby J is a force to be reckoned with. He's fiercely independent, and can manage tasks I wouldn't dream of leaving to an average 2 year old. He seems to imagine that he's just as big as his brothers, and doesn't ever cut himself any slack when trying to keep up with them--and he usually doesn't fall behind.

I am trying to keep busybusybusy in the sweatshop (aka my sewing room) and make birthday and Christmas presents. I have made a couple of birthday presents lately, and have a slew of Christmas stuff waiting to come to fruition. Partly I am motivated by anticonsumerism, and partly by my love of making stuff. I'd rather be creating something than be shopping, so why not create a gift, rather than shop for it? I've tried in years past to be more crafty about holidays and presents, but this year seems easier somehow. Maybe it's because the kids are a little bigger and less needy?

I am fighting a cold. Thus far I have a scratchy throat and an overwhelming inertia. I have been drinking tea to beat the band, and megadosing on Vitamin C. My immune system has responded to the attacking bug by bitchslapping me with a giant canker sore inside my upper lip, and a weird, painful, inflamed tastebud on the tip of my tongue. I have spent the week wishing I could remove my entire mouth. I can't eat or talk without pain, and last night I foolishly tried to sip some orange juice (more Vitamin C! this will be good right?), which ended in tears. I think yesterday was the bottom, and I am sllllloooowwwwllllly climbing back up to normal mouth territory. Or I am deluding myself, and dinner tonight (lasagna, chock full of lovely, yummy, acidic death tomato sauce) will finish me off. Time will tell.

I am curious to see if I will resume my hectic once-monthly posting habits...

Bloody Hell

2008-06-14T22:16:00.003-06:00

I am flying solo this week. Husband is in Vegas, throwing money away at the World Series Of Poker. He was eliminated from his event in short order, so he entered another. He lasted longer in that one, but ultimately fell. BUT! His coworker/travel companion entered the same event (the first one) and just finished in second place! I'm impressed.

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, my first two days without parental backup were pretty heinous. I was absolutely stressed to the max, wigging out at everything and nothing, and the kids were being complete turds. I was completely mystified--why was I so easily pushed over the edge? Why did I feel so insane? Why was everything so awful? Why did my back hurt so horribly? Why was I so bloated and...OH. Oh, THAT. Just like last month! You'd think I'd learn.

Once the hormonally induced insanity abated, we got down to having a much better time together. My sister and her family came into town, and the kids played all day and night. Bedtime wasn't happening smoothly, so I gave up and let them run wild, rather than spend all evening beating my head against a wall for naught. It was close to midnight when I finally pushed them into bed, having come to the realization that they would never voluntarily lay down anywhere. They were out in about 7 seconds. "Let's hope they sleep in," we said, knowing very well that we had a snowball's chance in hell of getting any extra rest out of the deal. Sure enough, they were up bright and early this morning, running, running,jumping, thumping, running. The markers we'd left out last night ("Stop running for 5 minutes! Here, draw something.") were promptly put to good use, and when I blearily wandered into the kitchen this morning, I found four very colourful little boys. Good thing I only buy the washable markers.

After the cousins had moved on, I threw the big kids in the tub and got the baby to sleep. I told them to play in the tub as long as they liked--since the marker had stained a bit, I figured an extra-long soak couldn't hurt. The soaking part certainly didn't hurt, but the exit was a bit more painful. G slipped on his way out of the tub and bashed his chin on the toilet, opening an inch-long gash in his chin that bled impressively. So we went on a little family outing to the walk-in clinic, where we waited for an hour or so before a friendly nurse held his head steady to receive FOUR STITCHES! IN MY BABY'S FACE! WAAAH!

He was such a champ, truly. We warned him there would be a needle to make the area numb (and then we had to explain what "numb" meant), and we warned him that it was going to hurt, but of course he didn't have a clue that they were going to stab him directly in an open, throbbing wound and then pump it full of fluid. His eyes spilled huge tears, and his mouth stretched into a silent wail, but he stayed perfectly still for the doctor. He just squeezed my hand and trembled a bit. He was very still for the stitches as well, but after three, asked, "Can we be all done now?"

By the time we finished up and left, it was past our usual dinnertime, and we still had to stop at the pharmacy on the way home. I didn't want to make the kids wait for me to make a meal after we got home, so we stopped for burgers, hotdogs, and ice creams. "Well," said N delightedly, "This is a nice surprise!" G nodded his bandaged head in agreement. Happy to oblige, boys.

Watching my children spill their own blood always makes me a little more of a Mama Bear than usual, so all three of them are bunking with me tonight. This would work better if Baby J didn't insist on being perpendicular to everyone else. Ah well, I can handle a bit of foot in the face--it's better than a toilet.

No Logical Sequence

2008-05-17T00:51:00.002-06:00

Still here, just having a hard time crystallizing thoughts into words. Extra hard to put those words together into sentences, and the paragraphs are killing me. Been so busy with general lifey stuff, no time to sit down and write about it. Blah blah, the usual excuses.

Baby J is trying to shorten my life span. This week he has been honing his skills as master escape artist. He has learned to open the front door (wonky latch made it easy once he learned the bolt), and has let himself out several times (there is a safety latch on the door now). He stepped over the sagging portion of our temporary fence in the backyard, and went exploring in the neighbour's yard. The same day, he was practicing his climbing on the front gate, which is not very high--I'm pretty sure if I'd let him continue, he'd have scaled it and run off somewhere in that direction as well. Today, while we were visiting friends, he let himself out their front door while I was in the bathroom (I believe he was looking for me outside, as I had just been in the front yard a few moments before), and I didn't even know he was outside until the friends' neighbour brought him back to the door--I thought he was downstairs with the other kids. Had a good little cry after that one. Henceforth, I shall be tying him onto my body at all times.

After the playdate that nearly resulted in my coming home with one less child than I'd gone out with, I went to a craft fair and got a little spendy. I bought myself some lovely, lovely soaps, some beautiful jewelry, and an excellent screenprinted t-shirt. I tried on the wearable stuff as soon as I got home, then stuck my face into the bag o' soap and breathed deeply. Happiness. The last time I went to this craft fair, I didn't spend very much at all, and was a little bummed out afterwards (non-buyer's remorse?), so this time I more than made up for it. And I am overjoyed at my fabulous new stuff! The moral of the story is, BUY FROM YOUR LOCAL CRAFT SHOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.

Once again, viewing craft show garments made me squawk indignantly (mentally) at the prices. $45 for a t-shirt? I could make that for 1/2 the price! But I never will because I am too busy/lazy/inept/whatever. But no, this time I am inspired. This summer, I will sew myself shirts! For realsies. I will update progress here...albeit sporadically, as my posting history is less than timely.

My last post, so long ago, was full of whinging about N's birthday party. Of course it went swimmingly. We had just enough kids show up to fill the (small) party room, and they had a great time cavorting on the gymnastic equipment. N received a ton of cheaply made plastic toys, and was genuinely thrilled with all of it. Crisis averted. Now G is DYING for his birthday to come. Poor kid, both his brothers have birthdays in the same month, he feels a little left out. I'll have to do something extra special for his day. Strippers?

150/95

2008-04-04T23:39:00.003-06:00

Whew, didn't think it was such a long time since I last posted. And now here we are, out of the winter doldrums, enjoying a lovely, sunny spring...

Oh, wait. It's still cold out. And it SNOWED tonight. WTF? Good thing the kids got out for a quickie play before the white stuff started coming down. We had friends over for dinner, so while I charred some ribs on the barbecue (cooking meat is not my forte), the kids ran around the yard, tramping repeatedly through the one mucky spot and chalking everything that couldn't run away.

They had loads of fun, but there was some crashing and burning at about 9--can't blame them, this is the third night in a row they've been up past bedtime. Poor, sweet G dissolved into tears when I told him not to smear yogurt on his chin. I had to snuggle him for a few minutes before he could resume eating, which he did very neatly. Poor boy, he's so sensitive even when he's not exhausted. He brings out the mama bear in me.

I am wringing my mama bear paws right now about N's birthday party. First of all, he's turning 6, and that is just so wrong. My baby cannot be this big! Second, I am fretting that nobody will come to his party at a gymnastics place on Sunday. He handed out invitations to a carefully chosen few friends from each of his two classes at school, for a total of 10 guests. That was last week. So far, I've had only one response. I asked for replies by the 8th, and there's only a few days left. What if all his friends totally stand him up? I don't think I could take it. If there aren't any replies, I can issue a last-minute invitation to his non-school buddies, who are already invited to a party here at the house on Saturday...but I'm afraid he would be crushed. This is killing me.

My anxiety levels are climbing lately. Last night I had a hard time falling asleep because I couldn't stop stressing about treat bags for N's parties. Twenty-odd treat bags to make, and for some reason I've only gotten enough stuff for half of them. I think I was blocking the fact that I have two parties to take care of. Pre-traumatic stress? Ah well, the kids are back at school this week, and I will once more be able to run errands with just one kidlet, the still very portable baby J. Who is almost 2--sob! And who will also require a birthday party! More sobs!

Geez, how would I cope if I ever had a real problem?

Minus Forty

2008-01-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

Today was quite possibly the longest day of the century. I think it lasted about six weeks. We exhausted the playdough and "Goo" before lunch, and after that I just kind of let the kids disassemble the house as long as they left me alone. I think tomorrow will be Movie Day, and maybe I can even get some sewing done while they rot their brains. The kids don't have school, and even if they did, Husband is taking the Jeep to work since his wee Mazda can't make it out of the driveway. We are Housebound.

I've invited friends over, but I doubt they'll want to leave their cozy house in the coldest weather of the millenium. I have a feeling we'll be on our own again tomorrow. Today I printed out an airplane toy to cut out and assemble, thinking it would be a simple, fun activity to involve G in. Boy, I picked the wrong airplane toy. It took forever to cut and glue a dozen pieces together, and then we had to wait for it to dry while the kids harassed me ("Is it done yet? How about now? How about now? How about now? How about now? Hey Mom, is the airplane ready yet? How about now?"). In the end it didn't even fly that well, though that was probably just because I rolled my eyes at the suggestion of checking the angle of the wing tilt, and I didn't pay particular attention to the angle of the horizontal stabilizer either. No matter, the kids were delighted with it. Delighted enough to nearly throttle one another in the mad rush to have another turn with it. Tomorrow we will find something quick and painless to make if the Movie Day fails to occupy them.

Today was a rough one for me. I don't get it--I've been feeling so mellow and happy lately, and today I suddenly crashed and burned. I was barely keeping it together when I tipped over the rice cooker and spilled water and wet rice all over the kitchen (at least it wasn't hot yet). That was the breaking point, and I had to have a little cry. After that I felt a tiny bit better, but still definitely poopy. I'm a little curious/scared of what tomorrow will bring. But hey, at least it's "warming up" to -26C! Thrills!

Icy; Happy; Maybe Kitty

2008-01-27T12:43:00.000-07:00

Big Kids: swimming with Daddy. Baby: sleeping beside me. Aaaahhh, peace and quiet.

This weekend we went to see the local Ice Festival, with sculptures and ice slides and an ice castle to play in and an ice maze to get lost in and movies playing on an outdoor ice screen (which we skipped). The kids had soooo much fun. We went first on Friday afternoon, and since they enjoyed it so much, we went again on Saturday. Friday was wonderful, there was hardly anyone there. Saturday was INSANE. Too bad--but it made me extra glad we'd gone once already and gotten to really enjoy it.

Took the kids out for dinner the other night at a divey pizza joint with some friends. Three strangers approached our table at different times to tell us how well behaved our kids (six in total) were. We thanked them, and after they left, laughed about all the stuff they must not have noticed. My kids were blowing bubbles in their chocolate milk, which piled up and out of their cups and onto their white shirts...there were several tearful incidents between the babies involving not-so-gentle pats...and at one point I asked G to repeat something I hadn't heard, and he bellowed "I HAVE TO GO POOP REAL BAD"--classy. I think the attitudes of the moms at our table made a big difference in how we were perceived by others. There are days where my kids could behave exactly the same way they did that night, and my reactions would be totally different--I'd snap at the big guys to stop blowing bubbles or I would take their drinks away; I'd get embarrassed about the loud update on the state of G's bowels; I'd get exasperated at the babies for not being as lovey and sweet as they usually are together. I would be projecting harried, pinch-mouthed misery, rather than the relaxed enjoyment our table of friends shared that night. In the face of such obvious irritability, I doubt anyone would approach us to compliment our children--although that's probably the moment I'd be most needing to hear it.

With all this happy happy joy joy spilling out of me, I've been thinking about another pet to share all my syrupy feelings with. I'm really on the fence here--after Lunch died, I was surprised at how easy it is to care for one cat. Cats are generally pretty easy, but two cohabitating cats who dislike each other make things a little trickier. Fran is fat and content and requires very little daily maintenance. If her food dish is empty, she lets me know. I scoop some poop, and vacuum piles of cat hair from around the house. That's about it. In return, she loves us all, snuggling with the grown ups and consenting to the clumsy attentions of the kids, and sleeps away most of every day. My aunt has some kittens to give away, and I've considered taking one in. But kittens are a lot more work than our sedate fatty Fran. The kids would be over the moon...but they're not the ones scooping the poop and making sure the furniture remains unscathed and cleaning the tipped plants, etc. Despite all the common sense arguments against it, I keep thinking, "Maybe we should..." Maybe I'm just missing J's babyness and looking to replace it with a baby of another species. For now I will continue to debate it with myself, but I think it's just a question of when I'll give in. I'm such a sucker.

Miscellany

2008-01-20T21:12:00.000-07:00

Blogger is irritating me to no end. 9 out of 10 times I try to sign in, it tells me my account doesn`t exist. And my keyboard somehow got switched to some kind of frenchy mode, where my question mark key now produces this: É. My apostrophe is different, and there`s a couple of other things that have changed too. It did this once before, and I couldn`t change it back until I restarted the computer...but as my battery is about to putter out, I`m not going to bother just now.

I just discovered a site chock full of free downloads for 3D paper crafts, which are so cool I could weep with delight. Every new item I click makes me oooooh and aaaaaah (in my head, as the baby is sleeping beside me). I have a new, portable project to take with me for the craft and coffee night I do with some friends every so often. Yay!

Today I diagnosed Baby J with thrush. AAAAAAAAAUGH! I will be picking up some Gentian Violet and acidopholus tomorrow. Now I know why it`s been feeling like his latch has been off somehow--I thought it was due to teething, although he only has one eyetooth left to cut. And suddenly I understand why he`s been fussing at the breast lately...I thought he was fighting bedtime, when really he just had a sore mouth. Poor kid.

We went to a birthday party at an indoor playground today. Those places are crazy and loud and overwhelming, perhaps more for me than for the kids. The boys were all exhausted by the time we left, as was I. I was pretty beat even before we got there, as I went out last night with Husband and Brother and sang some karaoke. We went to a divey bar we used to go to about 9 years ago--and the karaoke host was the same dude! Funny, or sadÉ I didn`t know either.

G starts speech therapy tomorrow. I`m pretty excited--I hope he loves it. He`s made so much progress without therapy, I`m really pumped to see what he can do with a little help.

Okay, computer battery is almost done, as am I. 5 hours of sleep is just not enough.

He Works Hard For The Money

2007-12-16T00:01:00.000-07:00

Just learned that my sweet baboo won the high-stakes office poker tournament. Woohoo!

The kids had their Christmas concert today. It was so sweet--G and N looked spiff, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly, although G didn't even pretend to sing. He claimed he didn't know the songs, but he belted them out on the drive home. Ah well, he still looked cute.

Baby J got his first haircut today. His baby mullet was becoming a bit much for me. Still, I was wistful about snipping it--such a big step toward being a big kid. His brothers had their shags clipped off a few weeks ago while I was out of town (sneaky dad), and they look shockingly different. G in particular looks much more grown up. It's unsettling sometimes, to see them becoming actual people, rather than teeny little drooling blobs. I am so proud of these boys.

I did a little photo editing tonight, and created a passable holiday photo. I had to cut and paste two heads into another photo in order to get all three kids smiling in the same shot. Now two of them look slightly bobbleheaded, since the sizes don't quite match up. Close, but not quite. But I think it will go unnoticed, so I'm letting it ride.

I have been on a rollercoaster of med-lessness and new meds, and now I am about to discontinue the new meds. Everything I've read about them freaks me out more and more. They are terribly addictive, and their short half-life means if I am late with a dose or miss one, I will be plunged into withdrawal hell within a few hours of the usual dosage time. I missed a dose this week and spent a day spiraling rapidly from irritability to insane bitchiness to scary crying jag to suicidal thoughts. It was a freakishly rapid descent, and to a much greater depth of misery than I had been experiencing while I was med-free. I took my pale pink capsule that night at the regular time, and the next day was business as usual, except that I was a bit worn out.

Because J and G are still nursing, I am also concerned about the effects of this drug on them. I've been reassured that I am on a low dosage, the transfer is negligible, blah blah blah....but it's not something I am willing to risk. So now I am switching to half doses, and we'll see if I can keep my shit together.

I am so lucky to have a supportive partner. Especially one that occasionally brings home a poker pot. Momma needs a new pair o' shoes!

At Long Last

2007-11-17T00:55:00.000-07:00

I am back online. More later.

Brief Update

2007-10-03T22:47:00.000-06:00

Since I am clearly so good at posting, averaging a post a month, I think I might sign up for that crazy NaBloPoMo again this year. Last year's posts are at ye olde blogge, which I will link to later when I'm not so effing tired. There's a link to it somewhere here, I think in the first post I put up here at the new digs.

NaBloPoMo gives me a good kick in the butt (and not the butt-stuff, either) about posting when I'm busy spazzing out about all the other things I put off until it's almost too late. For example, the flower girl dresses I'm sewing right now, which need to be in North Carolina in three weeks. I am getting close to panic mode, and just thinking about them makes my heart rate jump. I am no industrious ant, I am all lackadaisical grasshopper. Winter's almost here (for real, sniff), and I frittered away my summer, instead of slaving over satin in the sweatshop.

I'm not making much sense, am I? Did I mention I'm tired? Fighting a cold--thanks, kids. Little germ factories, them.

Right, off to bed with me, and hopefully tomorrow I will finish those blasted dresses.

So Sue Me

2007-09-05T23:25:00.001-06:00

Yeah, I am a slack bitch. Whatever.

Anyway, I was just reading this awesome post, and the awesome comments, and it inspired me to share my own childrens' awesomeness.

N and G like to be nude whenever possible. Being boys, they are obsessed with their penises. They are also within that magical age range where they are learning about bodies and the anatomical differences between men and women. So they are talking about their penises, and how poor mommy doesn't have one. Mommy has a 'gina. G tucks his little penis into his clamped thighs and says, "Is this a 'gina?" N snorts and replies, "No way." Then he adds with a small measure of disgust, "'Ginas are hairy."

This is a slight improvement from recent days when they referred to my genital region as a butt. As in, "Why do you pee from your butt?" One day, fresh out of the shower and getting dressed for the day, G wandered through the room of naked bodies telling us, "Ha ha, I see your penis. Ha ha, I see your butt." When he got to me, he glanced at my crotch and said, "Ha ha, I see your...butt-stuff."

Continuing in this vein, I remember the day I took N with me to a midwife appointment, as I always did. I was pregnant with G then, and N was 2. The appointment started with me collecting a urine sample to test for proteins and sugars. Usually N played in the waiting room while I used the nearby washroom, but this time he opted to come in with me. He watched intently as I filled my little plastic cup, and his eyes got big. I was formulating how I could explain that people only pee in cups under very special circumstances, when he interrupted my frantically whirring brain with an excited, "Mom! Juice! Butt!" He was clearly in awe of me. Why had I never told him I could make juice with my butt? Milk from one end and juice from the other--I was amazing. All this and I can sew too! Is there no end to my superpowers?

In other news, I took both my big boys to school today. It was a long day, as I lurked around the halls all day with the baby tied to me, spying on my kids as they met teachers and kids and toured the school. I think the day went relatively well, and I look forward to the day I can dump them without qualms (from them or me) and run gleefully away for a few hours with just one kid to wrangle. Yay school! Viva l'education!

Hot Cha

2007-07-29T19:42:00.000-06:00

Ye gods, it's hot. Today the temperature hit 35 C (that's 95 F, in case you're a heathen--er, American). Southerners would be all, "pshaw" about that, but we are not southerners. Did I mention the humidity?

Not that I'm complaining. Since we only get a few precious months each year that are not filled with snow, ice and general misery, I actually embrace these sweaty, sweaty days. But the children! Oh! the children! They are sweaty and wakeful and grouchy and difficult to be around.

We went to the beach last week and I burned my upper back, in a couple of blotchy spots where I didn't smear the sunscreen. Today I was extra careful to cover those spots...and I completely neglected my lower back, which is now red and stinging. Le sigh. We are all still gritty in our creases from our beach excursion, which is probably contributing to the general air of crankiness.

Boy, I wish I had something more interesting to post about, but it's too hot. And the baby is climbing on the table again, meaning my time here is at an end.

Milky Way

2007-07-16T12:09:00.000-06:00

This weekend I went on a bar crawl. I know, what the heck?! I am old and dull, who invited me to a bar crawl? My internetty friend Michelle, that's who. She was in Calgary for the Stampede, so I drove down and met her for a night of tipsy carousing. It was a sweaty, sweaty time. The temperature was 34 in the shade, and the bars and busses were much hotter. I spent a great deal of time rehydrating the next day, to the tune of about 4 litres of fluid.

The waiter who served us brunch: And what will you have to drink?
Me: The family-size carafe of cranberry juice, please.
Waiter: How many glasses would you like with that?
Me: Just one, thanks.
Waiter: Seriously?
Me: Uh, yeah. Thanks.
And then I drained that sucker like I'd spent the night boozing and sweating profusely. Which I had.

One of the memorable moments of the night: after we went through a metal detector at the entrance to a bar (sounds like a nice, wholesome place, 'eh?), a young man told me he needed to check my big ol' mom bag. Guess what he found in it? That's right, a Ziploc freezer bag (large size) with a breast pump in it. The poor guy dropped it like it was on fire when I told him what it was. No honey, it's not drugs or a weapon, I use it to express milk. From my breasts. For two of my three children. I am old. I think I'll put away my ID now, since nobody is asking to see it. Thank you and good night.

Despite the slight mortification factor, I was very glad to have brought it, since we later needed to share a private moment in a dirty bathroom stall, my trusty Avent and me. Then there was another mortifying moment when I had to come out of the stall with a pump full of milk, dump it in the sink, rinse the pump and stuff it back in the Ziploc, all while the young, single, childless ladies watched. It occurred to me just now that I could have just emptied it into the toilet and put it away without rinsing it, all without leaving the stall. Ah well, perhaps it was educational for the young girlies. Maybe they were extra careful to take their birth control that night. Or maybe they were just extra careful to not use the same stall or sink I'd just sullied. It might be catching!

No More Teachers' Dirty Looks

2007-06-29T00:07:00.000-06:00

We're leaving sometime in the next couple of days to spend a week or so at my parents' farm. I don't know exactly when we're leaving, I don't know exactly how long we'll be gone, and I don't know exactly how many children we're coming home with (N may stay on for a bit and be chauffered back by my mom). I don't know if we're all going together, or if the kids and I will go and Husband will follow us a day or two later. All this not-knowing is kind of bothersome.

I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be
All I need to know

That was in case you needed a little Aaron Neville/Linda "Too Damn Many Consonants" Rondstadt clunking around in your head. You're welcome.

Today was N's last day of school. He made a couple of super sweet cards, full of hearts and general adorableness, and picked out a bouquet of flowers (totally his idea, not even a nudge from me) for each teacher. The shrivelled, blackened lump I call my heart got a little bit squishy as I watched him walk, rather solemnly, into the classroom with a big bunch of flowers in each arm. He certainly looked classier than his brothers--J, on my hip, had no shoes on, and G had a small wet spot on his crotch. Glorious.

Tonight N was so excited at the prospect of our impending trip that he couldn't wind down. Once the little guys were asleep, I laid next to him and played with his hair to help him settle. It took just a couple of minutes to relax him enough to fall asleep. He's so big, but he's so little. I love to watch him grow, but I love that he's still my boy. I hope he never grows too big to be my boy.

Random

2007-06-16T23:28:00.001-06:00

Poor J. While his older brothers play outside, soaking up the cancerous rays and eating freezer pops full of refined sugar and dye, he presses his face against the screen, shrieking and gnawing an ice cube through the mesh of his Safe Feeder. He never gets to have any fun.

Today N graduated from preschool/kindergarten. I'm not sure what to call it--he's in a class with kindergarten kids, but he's in preschool. He'll do kindergarten proper next year. Whatever it is, he got his little certificate today, with a wee photo stuck to it of him wearing a graduation gown and a happy happy grin. He was SO excited to sing in the concert they put on for the parents. I must say, he looked ever so handsome in his pinstriped vest and white button-down shirt. He felt handsome too, you could just tell.

After that we took in a rugby game--well, Husband watched, the kids and I just kind of wandered around until the sky opened up, then we scurried around looking for sweaters and shelter. Despite getting soaked, the kids had a blast.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. N has a card and a little cup of coloured bath salts to give him. He made them at school. I have nothing. I thought perhaps I'd give him the gift of hanging out with his kids all day while I disappear to the sewing room to finish a project. I'm thoughtful like that.

My ab muscles (they're in there somewhere) are sore, like I used them or something. That's silly--I don't use muscles. Except those required to lift my food to my face, and then to chew it. Those are my favourite muscles, and I think they're quite well-developed. I exercised (wink, nudge) by eating three Two-Bite Carrot Cakes, before reading the nutritional info to discover I had just consumed 290 calories. Those bastards!

And just like that, I'm done.

The Nan Machine Hath Cometh

2007-06-14T23:41:00.000-06:00

My grandmother is amazing. She and my mom came into town a couple of days ago, and while Mom was attending her computer course downtown, Grandma kicked into action here at the homestead. My laundry: all clean and folded. My bathrooms: scrubbed. My floor: mopped. My kids: bathed in adulation. The woman is 75 and she kicks my ass.

In addition to her many other skills, Grandma doesn't make me feel totally inadequate while she's doing all my housework. I was shamed when she asked for a toilet brush, and bleated something about how I'd scrubbed one toilet, but hadn't had a chance to do the others yet. You know what she said? She said, "Don't you worry, you just keep doing a wonderful job raising those sweet little boys." I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I love that woman.

Rock on, Nan. You da bomb.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

2007-06-04T22:33:00.001-06:00

I am so ready for school to be out. Kindergarten is cramping my style. It's putting a serious dent in my social life. The weather is gorgeous, and despite my being completely mental, my friends keep calling and inviting me to join them in fun family outings. "Hmm," I say, "what time are you doing this fun family outing?" I already know that school will interfere. It always does. "Oh, sorry," I tell them, "N has school in the afternoon--we'd better not miss that." And the kids and I all serve our time while our friends, footloose and fancy-free, enjoy their fun family outing. Three more weeks, and then we kick kindergarten to the curb. Until fall, when we do it all over again, and try to add a 3-year-old preschool program to the mix. Can't hardly wait. I'm not sure if I'll feel unfettered, having just one kid to deal with for a while, or if I'll be so busy chauffering the big guys that I have no time for anything else.

I was starting to wonder why the heck I was breaking out, flipping out, and pigging out. Just now I felt a weird sensation, much like a menstrual cramp. Oh...right. My uterus is trying to fire itself up again. Lucky me. Even luckier are the people who have to live with me while I am completely mental. They've been getting complacent since I've only been half-assed mental lately...the return to completely mental can't be enjoyable for any of them.

Having suddenly realized why I've been such a shrew this week (fucking uterus), I have no qualms about feeding my salt and sugar cravings now. I just ate some leftover popcorn, and now I need to move on to ice cream. Music may soothe the savage beast, but the savage bitch needs some junk food. I may drink caramel sauce right out of the bottle. Hormones = Free Pass. Ho yeah, pass the spoon!

I Cede

2007-05-25T23:05:00.001-06:00

I gave up on ye olde blogge. Blogger randomly disallowed me to log in and post to it, then randomly allowed me to post twice, then shut me out again. Hell with it, I'll just start again. Stoopid Blogger.

Tonight I had grandiose plans to hole up in the basement and organize my craft room. My long hunt for thrift-store shelves paid off, and I have two bookcases that are waiting to be filled with a roomful of fabrics/sewing machines/threads/etc. I can't wait! Instead, I spent the night attached to a baby who thought he should stay awake just a little longer. Now I'm drunk on a pint o' wine and the task of taking on an entire room of extreme clutter this close to midnight is just a little too daunting.

My baby brother popped in last week and hung out for a while; he left today. It was so lovely to have him here, firstly because I hardly see the kid and it was nice to catch up, and secondly because he's an excellent nanny-man. My kids love him, and he's so great with them. Since Husband is insanely busy at work, it was especially awesome to have an extra body around. I got to pick up N from school without waking the sleeping kiddos! When Baby J was a heinously fussy dude ALL DAMN DAY, I prepared our dinner while the kids played with Uncle L! Seriously, he is a most excellent houseguest. Come back anytime, L!

We live in suburbia. I like our house. Our yard is small, but okay. The price was right, and THANK GOD we bought when we did--the market immediately went crazy. But I hate the lack of mature trees. I hate the construction filth. I hate the way our neighbourhood is so twisty-turny and anti-grid. And I hate that everyone we know lives so far away...until tomorrow. A friend is moving into our neighbourhood! As of tomorrow, we will have friends within walking distance. This bodes well for my summer. I am already pencilling playdates and walks to the NEW! local Starbucks into my calendar. I hope they have a lot of free time.

I would really love to drink more wine, but tomorrow morning we have a date with a mob of 5 year olds. N's school is having a sports day/BBQ thing, from 10-2. It would probably not go over well if both parents showed up with a severe hangover. Husband is currently drinking with my other, local brother, and I think at least one of us should be free of the stale boozy smell and bloodshot eyes for the school function. This year, anyway. Next year, we'll see.

And now, to bed--for the children. Children, you totally owe me.