kiss my crisis

2007-03-29T23:51:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, I know. Let's just pretend it hasn't been - I'd rather forget the last six months or so. Not so hot.

2006-08-23T00:25:00.000-07:00

Apparently an extremely high iq comes hand in hand with a genuine disregard for eyebrow grooming. And he lives with his mother.

You can either be smart OR cool, but not both. Highschool doesn't lie.

cheap tp

2006-08-18T10:15:00.000-07:00

Along with knowing not to barge into mommy's room first thing in the morning without knocking, one learns odd little quirks and habits when living in a single parent home growing up. Like shopping. Due the lack of a second income, we shopped Ghetto.

Generic brand ketchup, not Heinz. Peat moss size bags of Rice Puffs off the bottom shelf at the store, not the brand name Rice Crispy goodness (with prizes!). Koolaid, not Real Fruit Juice (now with 7 essential vitamins!)

You live what you learn and as an adult I have adopted many of these shopping habits. Although my husband now insists upon many brand name items as the generic just won't do, I buy cheap toilet paper. Volumous packages of double-roll, tissue-thin, one-ply, store brand shit tickets. They're always on sale and always come in packages so big they don't fit into the regular grocery cart. You have to store them on the metal rack at the bottom of your cart and steer carefully thereafter so as not to knock over any displays with the foot and a half of bulky mass jutting out in front and to the side.

While employing this economical TP for the use it was intended, you have to use abundant wads to avoid the touching of the hands to Other Parts. Volume over substance, you know. This isn't a problem, even when your...business... is a multi-wiper because as soon as the used paper hits the water it melts into just about nothing and flushes down the hole with ease.

Well, last week some of The Good Paper was drastically on sale - and I had a coupon. It was kismet.

I brought it home, unwrapped the tidy little package, and set a pillowy roll on the spool right away. Obviously far too excited about stupid toilet paper. All I could do then was wait for the call of nature.

The call came, I did my business and, as 32 years of conditioning taught me, grabbed myself a good, sturdy mitt full of TP. It was like wiping my bum with a soft, fluffy kitten. I didn't know that such a heavenly bathroom experience even existed!

After my moment of nirvana, I dropped the used paper into the bowl and flushed. No big deal, right? The paper- Wouldn't. Go. Down. Apparently, instead of melting down to nothingness like The Ghetto Paper, The Good Paper actually puffs up and expands when it hits the water. I waited for the bowl to fill up with water again and gave it a another try. I pulled the trigger for a second run at the flush hole but the downy lump would not budge. It was like I was actually trying to flush a soft, fluffy kitten down the shitter!

Without getting into too many graphic and unnecessary details, lets just say that the plunger has been employed more than once in the past week and, needless to say, I won't be buying that kind of toilet paper again. We're just a Ghetto Paper kind of people. Sometimes a leopard just can't change it's spots.

dancing with the stars

2006-08-14T11:35:00.000-07:00

This is everything wrong with television. Seriously.

Although, now that I think of it, watching Tucker Carlson Cha Cha to a Kelly Clarkson top 40 pop hit might be worth my time simply for the pure humiliation factor. Oh, how the (self-agrandized) mighty have fallen.

28 days

2006-08-08T22:09:00.000-07:00

Just so you know...

There are 28 days until school goes back. Not that anyone is counting.

stats

2006-08-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

Giggle of the day

Just for a giggle I'll share some of the search engine queries that landed people here:

what is a dysfuntional family
"child bearing hips"
my slutty wife marion
nasty god cash pic
kiss my mother fucking ass
"husband has a tummy ache"
"things you should never say to your wife"
tranny anaya red

Ummm...wtf.

oasis

2006-07-26T08:28:00.000-07:00

Oasis

I saw the most beautiful, amazing thing at Walmart yesterday... They have their school supplied displayed!

There is a light at the end of this tunnel.

budget talks

2006-07-20T11:58:00.000-07:00

Budget Talks

Since buying our first house in May, hubby and I have been spending like a crack whore on payday. There's a lot of shit to buy when you have a house, things I had no idea about.

Like, who knew a bathroom faucet runs about $150? Ceiling paint - $40/can. And no, one can won't do the job! Property taxes? Due July 2.

New yard = new yard maintenance machines. Lawn mower and weed eater...that'll be a thousand dollars please. Because we have to have the best lawn in the neighbourhood. Yes, I'm married to THAT guy. As such, we are now Home Depot's bitch. We owe our souls to the Home Depot 78%-compounded-every-minute credit card.

Also? We bought a new-to-us truck. A pretty, red truck. A truck with truck payments. Every month.

For the first time in sixteen years we were forced to sit down and take a hard look at how much money is coming in versus how much is leaking out. While the in:out ratio is still in the black it was embarassing to see the dollar figure attached to what we piss away on un-needed shit. I won't even tell you how many times it said 'liquor store' or 'pub' in the debit column, not to mention the restaurants and fast food joints. It was sickening.

I also spent $954 on groceries in the last month. Groceries! These little beggars need to stop eating us out of house and home and we need to stop buying so much booze. Although, with all three kids home every-day-all-day for the entire summer, I'm not sure which sustains their heath and well being more - the food or mommy's wine.

I'll try to cut back on both in an even proportion so as not to throw out the delicate balance on which our sanity rests.

bitter divorce

2006-07-17T10:39:00.000-07:00

Bitter much?

Now, this is a bitter divorce.

conversations

2006-06-21T11:21:00.000-07:00

From the mouths of babes...

Mom: Do you have to go pee?

Child #3: No.

Mom: Then why are you holding your penis?

Child #3: Because he's my friend?

Priceless.

tooth fairy

2006-04-04T15:32:00.000-07:00

The Tooth Fairy May Declare Bankruptcy

Meet Gappy Sue.

The Tooth Fairy has been very busy up in our hemisphere lately. She may even need to hire an assistant as Ri's teeth have decided to fall out of her head all at once. I'm going to be blending her food and feeding it to her through a straw soon.

Although she pays well, especially for the big front teeth, The Tooth Fairy has been a little unreliable of late. She sometimes misses our house entirely on a night she's been summoned, much to the dismay of Miss R. The late arrivals and missed payments have been very concerning. A couple of weeks ago I even had to email her a little reminder after the second missed night with no pick up and cash deposit.

This is somewhat understandable as she is just one tiny woman covering the entire globe in one night, after all. Without the aid of elves or a team of reindeer or anything. A virtual one-woman-show. But really.

As eight years old is a fairly late to be losing one's first teeth, there is much suspicion surrounding the real truth about the little fairy. Ri came to me one morning recently and declared that she KNEW the tooth fairy was really me. Of course, I played totally dumb like I didn't know what she was talking about, asking her casually what made her think that.

"Mom, that $5 bill from last night totally smelled like your purse."

SMELLS LIKE MY PURSE?? WTF.

That damn fairy had better step up her game pretty quick.

Damn Oprah

2006-03-30T22:54:00.000-08:00

Damn you, Oprah.

I rarely ever get to sit down in front of the tv until after 9 or 10 at night (except Thursdays, of course. Survivor!). This pretty much excludes all daytime programming from my repetoire. Cartoon Network, Treehouse, and The Family Channel dominate our sets most of the time they're on.

Not that I'm really missing anything special - I know. The airwaves are filled with copius amounts of shite in general, but it's particularly bad from about 8am until 6pm when the local news comes on...or Dog The Bounty Hunter.

I have no time for Jerry Springer or Montel; if I wanted to watch dysfuntional family members scream at each other or some old lady who thinks she's a psychic, I'd go to my annual family reunion. Daytime soaps make me want to slit my wrists and Dr Phil's preaching gets old after a while. We know he's the all-knowing, most perfect husband-father-brother-son that ever walked the face of the earth. Seen one of his shows, seen them all.

Now Oprah. I used to watch her way back when. When she actually had interesting guests, that is. Before the books and the crazy celebrities. Before her weight was an all-consuming issue. Before she decided to remind everyone, every minute, how much money and power she really has. And why you can never be quite as rich and powerful as she is.

It just so happens that it is Oprah's 20th anniversary year and she was doing a retrospective of some of her favourite guests today and I was actually near a tv in a child-free room around that time. This segment had me blubbering like a baby. I had to lock my bedroom door so my husband didn't come in and catch me crying at Oprah. So cliche.

Damn you, Oprah Winfrey.

not feeling the luck

2006-03-30T10:50:00.000-08:00

Not Feeling The Luck O' The Irish

Having two children while going to college and incurring the student loans sufficient to feed them really impedes any effort at buying one's first house. When barely scraping up enough for diapers and electricity there's not a lot left over for a down payment. Add a third child to the mix and you get where we are. Early 30's, three children, renting.

We absolutely love our house, warts and all. It's about 40 years old and needs a lllloootttt of work but the street is quiet, we have great neighbours, the school is good, and we have an ocean view. We love it here.

Aside from making major physical improvements on the house, we treat it like we own it. It's clean (for the most part), the yard is maintained, we respect it and make any small repairs necessary without running to the landlord for every little thing. Actually, the only time we speak to them is once a year when we give them a year's worth of post-dated cheques... and we pay our rent on time, every time. We are the perfect tenants.

Much to my utter disappointment and despair, the owners called on Monday night to tell us that they have decided to sell the house. The realtor is coming over tomorrow afternoon to evauate it and set a price. The sign should probably go up over the weekend.

This has brought us to somewhat of an unexpected crossroad. Do we continue to rent and pay someone else's mortgage or do we beg, borrow, and steal our way into buying our own home? While not really getting our hopes up too high and coninuing to look for another rental property, we have applied for a mortgage. I have felt like vomiting every five minutes since we started taking to the broker on Tuesday. The paperwork has been filed and we're just waiting to hear whether or not someone is feeling charitable enough to lend 300k to a couple without a downpayment or not.

Please send good mortgage vibes our way. I'll try not to throw up from the stress in the meantime.

no baby!

2006-03-23T01:30:00.000-08:00

No Baby!

This is my sister. She is 38 weeks pregnant and very, very cranky. She's not actually due until the first week od April but for the past 25 weeks or so, her OB has been telling her that she'll be 3-6 weeks early. She was 3 weeks early with her first and she'll be even earlier for this baby. She's been holding on to this like a Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket to Quick Relief.

Anyone who has been pregnant even once knows how goforsakenaweful the last few weeks are. Now, I love my sister like we aren't even related but frankly she isn't really a nice person to begin with. Add 8 months of vomiting and back pressure to the mix and she's downright evil.

That photo was taken on March 13th, the day she went into labour for the first time. (Only beacuse her husband was a four hour drive away for work that day of course, mind you.) More than a week has passed since this pic was taken and the scene has only become larger, lower, and accompanied by a nasty disposition and many more contractions. But no damn baby.

Upon her last examination on Tuesday afternoon, it was discovered she was already 2 cm dilated. Two fucking centimetres!! It took me 6 hours of labour to achieve 2 cm!! The bitch. I swear to God this baby is just going to fall right out one day this week and bypass the whole labour process altogether. ("Excuse me ma'am...I think you dropped something!")

We also think it's a girl because

a) She can't decide when to show up.

b) She's certainly not going to let anyone tell her when to show up.

c) Everyone is sitting around waiting for her to get ready to go!

Oh, and my sister says this baby is totally grounded for life once it finally comes out. She's bitter.

wordpress or movable type?

2006-03-22T09:07:00.000-08:00

WordPress or MovableType/TypePad?

I've been very quiet on here lately but it's been for a good reason. In addition to my three children, husband, house, home business, and part time job I've been working on developing a new project. I'm not ready to say what it is just yet but I'm looking for some of your experienced opinions.

I've used blogger before for this and one other business project and, while it is very user-friendly for the most part, it seems somewhat limiting and amateurish. Being that this will be a professional project, I am looking to use either movable type or wordpress and I'd like to hear your experiences and recommendations for either. I would like flexibility with themes/design, options to add a calendar, manage my archives, manage my comments, the option for multiple contributers, good comment spam prevention, and frankly a very low PITA factor (pain-in-the-ass factor). Price is also an issue...free is better than pay-for-service but I'm willing to pay a reasonable price if I get the options I'm looking for.

Any comments you can contribute would be very much appreciated!

holistic vs conventional

2006-03-02T01:52:00.000-08:00

conventional vs holistic

Every child grows up believing, in the beginning, that their parents are the s.h.i.t. Completely trustworthy and on top of everything. Then we become The Teenagers, knowers-of-all, and start to question whether or not our parents have actually managed to pull their tiny heads out of their asses in their 40-something years of being. And this is very doubtful.

I don't know about you, but my mother was clearly Insane from the time I was 14 to at LEAST 17, if not later. I grew up with a one parent family and I know it must have been hard and frequently stressful for Mom but she was clearly off her nut. Organic food, vegetarian cooking classes, Macrobiotics, whole wheat everything - not to mention the Tai Chi, Chakras, and self-help books. She was a latent Hippy, long after hippydome was fad and fashionable.

When Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer almost three years ago, she was all about the naturopathic doctor. She had oxygen therapy, massages, injections, herbal pills, etc etc etc. She was taking all this stuff on top of her 'conventional' medicine prescribed by her Oncologist - the usual rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, on top of surgerical intervention. There came a time when Mom's hippydippy tendencies came into question and debate....was the Naturopath helping or hindering her chances for recovery and survival? Was the naturopathy helping or interfering and preventing the optimum benefit of the western medicinal interventions?

Guess which path she chose?

ocd

2006-02-26T23:13:00.000-08:00

OCD

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this or not but I'm carrying a little baby weight. But you see, my 'baby' is almost five. After he was born I got down to my pre-preg weight with eight months of hardcore working out and watching what I ate. Then Hubby and I encountered some marital problems, for various reasons I'm not willing to go in to just now, and were separated for eight months.

I'm what you'd call a Stress Eater... and the 50 lbs I lost after baby #3? Yep. I replaced love and security with pasta, bread, and potatoes. It seemed like a good idea at the time but now? I'm fat.

I despise the concept of the New Year's resolution and as such, I buck any hint of conformity and will only embark on a major life change AFTER January just so there's no confusion. I WILL NOT CONFORM DAMNIT!!

However, my lovely husband and his efficient metabolism decided that he and his extra 20 lbs needed to get down to bidness. The love of my life has become this obsessive compulsive workout queen who will get up at 5am to go to the gym and won't drink his 'fast food alternative' pop if he even suspects that it MIGHT not be diet pepsi because the stupid chick at Taco Time hit the wrong button.

Im not sure if I can stress how much I'm NOT like this.

There may possibly be a divorce on our horizen if the fucker doesn't eat a large order of McDonald's fries soon.

I'm a rover

2006-02-13T01:09:00.000-08:00

I'm a Rover

By the skin of my teeth I avoided devastating disappointment and a two days locked in my dark bedroom but I had a most fabulous weekend, saw the most fabulous Great Big Sea live in concert, with a most fabulous friend. Just shy of 24 hours without a husband or children, with a great friend, footloose and fancy free in Victoria. There may have been martinis involved as well.

I'm a Great Big Sea geek, I'll be the first one to admit it. GBS is a down-to-earth, high energy, east coast celtic-ish Newfie band and I have seen them once before, about three years ago. (With a man I was dating at the time...hubby and I were seperated for eight months but that's another story for another day...)

I just *happened* to be browsing on the GBS site a few months ago and saw that they were touring in the new year. They just happened to be having a special release of tickets available only on their website before they were released to the general public and I was all over that like a fat kid on a Smartie. Have I mentioned? Great Big Geek. I invited my Aunt to go with me and we both rearranged our work schedules to accomodate the weekend. At the last minute, the person who was taking her shift backed out. Scramble! I can't go alone! No one to watch the kids overnight so hubby couldn't go with me! Another friend with sick kids! (Ummm...I don't have a ton of friends, I have children)

At the 11th hour I found a friend with a sweet husband who recognized that she needed a few hours away from him and woohoo! off we go. Hotel. Wine. Dinner in a restaurant where I didn't have to escort anyone to the bathroom seven times (this alone was worth the price of admission). Concert! Martinis. Vodka. Maybe a shooter or two. Uh, Martini? When, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my soccer mom friend flashing her boobs to the dancefloor I decided it was time to get back to the hotel before things really got out of control.

T'was a fabulous weekend. As far as I recall.

not enough time

2006-01-27T09:02:00.000-08:00

A Day In The Life

Date, this Wednesday.

Up at 8am, kids are half-ready for school. Make lunches, inspect teeth and hair, pile three children into the van and off to school.

Back home again by 9am, I work on my computer (I have a marketing company) while juggling requests for snacks, glasses of juice, and listening to long rambling stories about the last episode of Crazy Town. It's now 11:30, time to get me and the four year old dressed - preschool starts at 12:30. I have plans to go to the bank, return movies, go for a long walk and get some more work done while he's in school so get my gear together for that as well.

Half-dressed and the phone is ringing: husband has a tummy ache and needs to be picked up from work. No, not after I drop off the boy at school, before. Throw on a hat, pull on pants, chuck a cereal bar and some milk into a lunchbox, hurl boy into the van. Race downtown to make this unscheduled pick up, race back uptown to school - boy is safe in Preschool, we made it on time. Make sick husband wait in the van while I return the movies but scrap the bank for today. The walk will have to be around the neighbourhood instead of at the park as planned.

Home again, husband tucked into the couch with a blanket, walk finished, I try to get some work done while juggling requests for soup, tea, and listening to long rambling stories about the sports highlights. I lay down on the other couch and try to catch a 20 minute power nap before I have to go get the kids.

It's now 2:45, time for the pick-up routine to start. I drive to the Preschool, pick up boy, drive to the Elementary school, pick up big kids. Back home and it is time to get dinner started because I have to work tonight at my other job. (I work in a little British pub two nights a week because, you know, they have grown ups there - and no kids.)

Big kids are doing their homework, dinner is on the stove, all husband has to do is dish it out when they're ready to eat - the house is quiet. I check on him before running out the door to pull a 7 hour shift on my feet slinging drinks and he looks up at me and says: You should really make more time for yourself. You wouldn't be so tired if you went to the gym every day.

...and then I wraped my cold hands around his skinny little neck and killed him.

just don't call him k-fed

2006-01-25T09:41:00.000-08:00

Just don't call him K-Fed...

As if we didn't already know that this guy was a tool, check out this clip of Kevin Federline listening to his new dance single. You know when you feel embarassed for someone else and it's painful to watch? Like that.

signs of success

2006-01-25T09:03:00.000-08:00

Signs of success?

I quite possibly have the best husband and children around.

I woke up this morning in a state of panic, jumping out of bed with the knowledge that it was 8:33 and we were going to be late! School starts at 8:55...this is not enough time.

But they were up! They were dressed! Their bags were packed! There were some hair issues to solve but that's small potatoes.

My gorgeous husband had gotten them out of bed before going to work early this morning. The lovely little angels got dressed, had breakfast, and made their own healthy (!!) lunches all by themselves. These are eight and eleven year old children whom I normally have to poke and prod with sticks and sharp utensils to get them ready for school on time.

Think this is a sign that maybe we're doing something right?

absence

2006-01-13T10:50:00.000-08:00

Absence makes the heart grow fonder...right?

I'm home. Thank God. And slightly recovered from an entire month of living every minute of my life to please other people (aka 'the holidays') topped off with a business trip to Vegas.

Five days of vodka, stale air, slot machines, fake smiles, sleep deprivation, and the reak of American cigarettes EVERYWHERE is enough to make me get down on my knees and kiss the land I live on. Seriously people, how can you smoke those things? I've never been a smoker and cigarettes in general are incredibly disgusting, but the American ones? They smell like horse manure! Do Americans really smoke that much or is the hedonistic orgy vibe in Vegas so strong that it brings out every sinful habit?

And the vodka, my friend Vodka. With cranberry juice, of course, because it was pretty much the only thing that passed through my lips in five days that had even the slightest trace of nutritional value. A Starbucks latte for breakfast, late lunch, the Vodka, and maybe some fingerfood at a cocktail party in the evening...for five days. Is it any wonder why I retained ten pounds of water and felt thouroughly poisoned and toxic by the time I got home? I am surprised the whites of my eyes weren't turning yellow as my liver stopped functioning.

There were 160 THOUSAND people flying into Vegas for the same 5 day period I was there, for three different conventions. That's twice as many as live in my entire city. It was utter insanity.

But I'm home. And I'm eating vegetables. And drinking water. And NOT drinking The Vodka. And totally not sleeping still, but at least I'm home where the air is fresh and life is clean. And I didnt even need Rehab.

i'm sorry

2005-12-31T01:23:00.000-08:00

I'm Sorry.

I'm so sorry. I have much to say; a part two and even a part three. But you see it's Christmas and my husband has 18 days of holidays. Eight. Teen. Days.

Believe me when I say... my husband is a gift from my own true guardian angel. If it wasn't for him I may have sold or eaten my children during these 'holidays'. (Why do they call it that? To WHOM do these holidays apply?)

I have a business trip coming up on Tuesday as well. Bear with me. I'm such a shameless whore and as such, I'll get around to spilling every detail of dirt when the mood strikes (and time permits).

2005-12-20T23:43:00.000-08:00

The life of Riley, part 1.

It was late winter/early spring of 1997. I was 23 and full of promise, a woman on a mission. I had a two year old son and a boyfriend who couldn't find a job. I was going to college and had a new job in an Irish singalong-type of pub. I had just been accepted to the program I wanted at school. It was going to be a little intense for a few years but it was going to pay off in the end. Life was as free and as hopeful as it can be when you are working hard towards a promising future.

Then it happened.

I gagged while I brushed my teeth. My breasts hurt. I was sick.

It was just the flu. Really. I needed more vitamins, stop going out with the girls on weekends. Really.

I missed my period.

Holy fuck.

Oh my God.

Shut UP.

A two year old baby. Live-in boyfriend with no job. School. Bread-winning shit job. Major school. HUGE student loans. Two pink lines. Oh. My. God.

tour buses?

2005-12-15T13:01:00.000-08:00

Huh?

Is it just me or is this a little freaking morbid and/or opportunistic?

healthy snacks

2005-12-14T00:17:00.000-08:00

Healthy? Fuck that.

My sister called today looking for a recipe for a dip I make with a fruit plate (Equal parts Cool Whip and any flavour of yoghurt you like if you're also interested. Very yummy.).

Apparently her son's Kindergarten class is having a little 'Holiday Party' (which is another subject for another day *sigh*). The mandate came down that only HEALTHY SNACKS would be acceptable at this little shindig. Although my nephew gets his fair share of Poptarts and Pepsi my sister is, of course, wanting to conform to the prescribed 'good parent' standard at their school and will make a $25 fruit platter for a bunch of 5 year olds she doesn't know rather than whip up a $1.99 package of cake mix into 'holiday' cupcakes. Rookie.

While my children don't go to one of the elite bilingual schools that my nephew attends, the students at our school are the sons and daughters of a nice mix of doctors, lawyers, pilots, engineers, and other miscelleneous university educated professionals. This equates to a LOT of anal, stay-at-home, my-children-are-my-career types on the parent advisory council. (That's PTA for you american visitors...). This ain't no ghetto school. There is no free lunch program required at our school.

This does not prevent the powers-that-be at the school from including a monthly reminder that they frown upon unhealthy eating choices and any parent caught sending their child to school with chocolate bars will be strung up and publicly ridiculed as punishment. But surely we know how to properly dress and clothe our children as the lack thereof has never been an issue as far as I know.

I'm sorry but IT'S MY FUCKING KID. If I want to send my children to school with a can of 7up and a bag of Doritos for lunch it's MY decision to do so. Of course, this would never happen, but who the F are they? No one can tell me how to raise my children unless they had something to do with the conception of said children. And I don't remember the principle of our school being in my bedroom any time in the last twelve years or so.

Also, how hypocritical is it that the same school who FROWNS upon sugar, fat, and carbs also supports a weekly 'hot lunch' day every Friday where the children can choose PIZZA OR HOT DOGS for lunch. What. The. Fuck.

Don't they have bigger issues to be concerned with? Class sizes? Cut backs? Bullying? Proper supervision on the playground? Students learning? Passing tests?

Should I take it as a good sign that the biggest issue they have to preach about is nutrition? Am I overreacting?

bake-o-rama

2005-12-07T00:57:00.000-08:00

Bake-o-rama

I baked two loaves of bread, a dozen rolls, and nine dozen peanut butter cookies today. WTF? Do I have a fever?

I have either channelled Mrs Cleavers spirit or I need an intervention. It's like I'm freaking 9 months pregnant and nesting for JC's sake.....

jon stewart

2005-12-03T00:14:00.000-08:00

I love this man

When Jon Stewart says the F-word it makes me want to kiss him on the mouth. And his GW Bush impersonation? Totally fuckable.

tis the season

2005-12-01T23:27:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season

So, I live next door to this really nice family, a couple with a four year old daughter. The husband is laid off right now and has (apparently) a lot of time on his hands. He spent the last WEEK, putting in 10-12 hour shifts every day putting up his 9 gazillion Christmas lights and (again, apparently) he's been planning his show for quite some time.

Neighbourhood rumour has it, he spent $600 USD for some software program to run his obnoxious Griswald Christmas Vacation light show off his computer. We have to keep the blinds closed on that side of the house or else risk the flashing lights inducing seizures. And that's not even the best part!

We've been noticing that one of the street lights on our road - the one in front of Mr Griswalds house - has been flickering, on and off, and just tonight noticed the correlation. When he has his Christmas lights on HE CUTS OFF THE POWER TO THE STREET LIGHT ACROSS THE ROAD FROM HIS HOUSE!

merry fucking christmas

2005-11-27T10:49:00.000-08:00

T'was the month before Christmas....

...and a nasty grinding noise was coming from the brakes on our van. Hubby took it in to Crappy Tire today to get them fixed, the only place open on a Sunday (and likely the cheapest for generic issues like brakes). That'll be $540 please and thank you very much. I hope the children enjoy having a nice safe car to drive in because thats what Santa's bringing this year.

So much for a zero balance on Visa. Merry Fucking Christmas.

harry potter movie

2005-11-23T09:31:00.000-08:00

I took three 11 year old boys to dinner and a movie on Friday night to celebrate my son's birthday. This was the closest thing I've had that even remotely resembles a date in a very long time. Yes, I'm married. Yes, my husband needs to take me out more often.

The boys were great, the dinner was yummy, and the movie was fabulous. I haven't read any of the Harry Potter books but I have seen all of the movies. I don't think that my imagination could ever picture some of the amazing creatures and scenes that the movies portray. The characters are amazing in both their eccentricities and their complexion and the theme of loyalty, friendship, and integrity run strong in this film. JK Rowling is definitely a genius.

My son is right at the cusp of childhood/teenage, discovering the magic of the opposite sex, mature enough to carry an intelligent conversation, yet still needs a mom's cuddle sometimes to reassure him. His friends are also vastly different in personality in these final years before the highschool conformity takes effect.

For example, his two best friends couldn't be any more different from each other. One is the son of a published author and college English professor possessing the vocabulary, articulation, and creativity of a novel writer himself. He is small and nerdy looking, wears glasses, and already loves girls. This kid has figured out a few of the tricks it takes most men many many years to clue into, if they do at all. His goal in life is to become a chef - because women like a man who can cook. He also joins every service commitee at school, always a fabulous girl:boy ratio, just to get closer to them.

The other friend is the strong silent type. A football player, strong as an ox both physically and mentally. He doesn't have to say much, just flash his bright blue eyes and adorable dimples to have all the girls calling. Even then, he's not really all that interested in them.

The fact that these boys, with such distinct and contrasting personalities, can be so inseperable makes me smile and feel hopeful that maybe he is forming the kind of life-long friendships that shape a person throughout their growing up.

baby is so big now

2005-11-16T12:19:00.000-08:00

So, so big now

At this time 11 years ago I was recovering from 23 hours of baby-induced hell. I went into labour at 6am November 15, 1994. At first I thought I just had a well-deserved bout of the trots due to the Taco Time we had for dinner the night before (A pregnant girl can wolf down quite a few soft tacos....) so my husband went to work. It turned to actually be contractions so I had to GO PICK HIM UP. That's right - driving. With labour pains.

In my first baby naivete, I decided that going to the hospital was just not possible without at least 10 pairs of clean underwear. Being that we were young and poor, we didn't own a washing machine so we went to my mother-in-law's to do laundry. And she laughed at my pain and bragged about her highly superior three hour labour and deliveries. I guess it's funny to see someone being ripped apart by contractions after you've done it four times yourself and it's not you this time.

Time warp to the hospital... after 6 hours of pain I almost kissed the anesthesiologist on the lips whe he finally showed up to jam a huge needle into my spine. It's amazing what we'll gladly submit to just to end the suffering. My husband said I was like a wilted flower who had come back to life. I'm not a screamer, not even a groaner. I hadn't made a sound for almost five hours. Epidural? I definitely recommend it.

After 23 hours of labour and two hours of pushing with 'assistance' from those big metal salad tongs they call forceps, it was decided that my pumpkin-headed child was not coming out that door. I was a little scared about the surgery but I was ready to agree to anything as long as they put more of that numbing stuff into my spine. Anything to stop the feeling that my guts were being ripped out from my crotch. C-section it is!

They pulled him out and held him up and DAMN he looked pissed off. He was all red and angry...and the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen in my entire life. Pain? What pain? Just let me hold that beautiful boy.

It's so hard to believe that that was eleven years ago and not yesterday. My first baby is growing up right before my eyes and I hate it and love it all at the same time. I feel time slipping through my fingers and it hurts but at the same time I am so excited for him to experience all of the wonderful things that lay in is path.

He is such a wonderful boy; sweet, senstitive, quiet, thoughtful, smart. He gets along so well with everyone and takes good care of his little brother. He helps around the house and even makes his bed every morning without me having to yell. He puts away the dishes and takes out the garbage without much grumbling. The best of all - he'll even cuddle with his Mom for a few minutes as long as there are none of his friends around to witness it. And he is so, so handsome. The perfect child.

Happy birthday baby.

warning

2005-11-10T11:16:00.000-08:00

Warning: This post may ruin your life

I'm not looking for a job. Neither is my husband. Why then, was he at this site ruining my life? That's right - I'm skidding towards complete failure and destitution. I can't get any work done, my house is filthy, the closest I've been to 'getting dressed' is throwing my coat over my pj's to drive the kids to school. They're lucky they're being driven at all because my car doesn't get a very good wi-fi signal.

THIS GAME will be my downfall. It can be yours too - just try it. I guarantee you'll be instantly hooked like that first hit of heroin.

Need the computer for homework kids? Screw off. My husband and I wrestle each other for the computer in the evenings, deathmatch-style. You see, we are both a tad competitve in nature. And by 'competitive' I mean completely obsessed with winning. But you see, I work from home and also stay up much later than him at night so I'm kicking his ass royally. And it's killing him. And I laugh and laugh. My best score: level 35. His best score: level 13.

He's my bitch.

halloween

2005-10-28T00:14:00.000-07:00

Halloweenie

We're going to a Halloween costume party this Saturday night and I'm far more excited than any adult really needs to be. It's been YEARS since I dressed up in a costume and I'm taking a freakish amount of pleasure in doing so. I'm going as Elvira...not that I really need an excuse to wave my ample cleavage in everyone's face after 23 or 24 glasses of Chardonnay. When you're a girl who has had three children and is carrying the 'baby weight' to prove it, you've gotta go with what you have to work with. (And by 'baby weight' I mean 'toddler weight'....no, actually it's 'preschooler weight'. Whatever.)

The best part of the evening will come before we even leave the house: when I get to stick false eyelashes onto my husband's eyelids and watch him struggle into his Queen Size fishnet stockings without tearing them with his long red fingernails. He's going as a Tranny Hooker and I'm gonna pimp dat bitch out. We haven't decided on the clothes yet but you can be certain that there's gonna be a super-slutty miniskirt involved. God knows I have enough skanky outfits from the Old Days to figure something out for him. It was a little surreal in the costume store when I asked the salesgirl, 'If your husband was a woman, would you rather he was a blonde or a brunette?' We went with the blonde...hopefully they really do have more fun. Blonde just seems trashier too, which is very high on my priority list for if I ever really marry a woman.

Now, as long as we can get through tomorrow at school, and all of the post-Halloween journals and stories without my 7 year old daughter telling everyone 'My daddy s a hooker!' like she did to the checkout girl at the store, we may get away with this without Social Services investigating the welfare of my children. She's such an *angel*.

busy

2005-10-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

Pardon my prolonged absence but I've been busier than a one-eyed cat watching nine mouse holes. It's a good thing that I'm a mother and can do 23 things at one time.

I love them like I gave birth to them, but I did a little happy dance on Sunday night when they announced that the school strike was over and my children were going back to school in the morning. (Ok, I admit it...I jumped off the couch and cheered like my team just won the Super Bowl) Believe me when I say that when you live on the west coast of Canada, October is NOT the time of year you want your children home unexpectedly, especially for a prolonged and indefinite amount of time. I live in a rainforest. Literally. And of course, I gave birth to three sugar cubes so during the entire two week strike I think they might have spent a total of an hour outdoors....and not all at one shot.

Work is crazy busy too. We're growing at a rapid rate in anticipation for pimping our shit at the convention coming up in January. I love Vegas but it really loses it's luster when you're there for business. The slots don't call as sweetly, the lights aren't so bright, and the 36DDD half-naked cocktail waitresses aren't quite as attentive. At least it seems that way.

so so sick

2005-10-19T11:48:00.000-07:00

So so sick....and tired.

The Plague is running rampant and free through our household and for the love of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the children need to go back to school. Please let the strike be over soon.

curling

2005-10-06T23:43:00.000-07:00

I am a true Canadian geek.

I'm flirting with 'middle age' and I have the hips to prove it. I also have an inherent love of the devil's brew....Mama loves the booze. I have somewhat of a competitve spirit. (Actually, what I really mean to say is, if I can't win I don't want to play.) Also, taking said hips into consideration, marathon running isn't really an option.

In gathering all of this info, thinking realistically, and needing a hobby, I have decided to learn how to Curl. That's right, baby - one step up from bowling, one step down from golf, there lies one of Canada's geekier sports, Curling. You play on a team of four, against another team of four, most leagues being broken up into men's and ladies' groups. You don't have to be the an expert to play and the best part of all? It's practically written into the rules that you HAVE to go up to the club lounge after each game with your opposing team. It shows good sportsmanship...it's simply rude not to. Who am I if not Miss Manners?

I took the 'Novice Clinic' at my local rink this week and holy crap if this little sport isn't as easy as it looks on tv! My ass hurts from all the squatting and sliding and my arms are about to break off at the shoulders from all the sweeping but it was actually really fun. Plus the booze, it makes it all better.

censorship

2005-10-04T12:35:00.000-07:00

Censorship. Wow.

The 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 1990 - 2001
1. Scary Stories (Series) by Alvin Schwartz
2. Daddy's Roommate by Michael Willhoite
3. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
4. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
5. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
6. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
7. Harry Potter (Series) by J.K. Rowling
8. Forever by Judy Blume
9. Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
10. Alice (Series) by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
11. Heather Has Two Mommies by Leslea Newman
12. My Brother Sam is Dead by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier
13. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
14. The Giver by Lois Lowry
15. It's Perfectly Normal by Robie Harris
16. Goosebumps (Series) by R.L. Stine
17. A Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Newton Peck
18. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
19. Sex by Madonna
20. Earth's Children (Series) by Jean M. Auel
21. The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson
22. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
23. Go Ask Alice by Anonymous
24. Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers
25. In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak
26. The Stupids (Series) by Harry Allard
27. The Witches by Roald Dahl
28. The New Joy of Gay Sex by Charles Silverstein
29. Anastasia Krupnik (Series) by Lois Lowry
30. The Goats by Brock Cole
31. Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane
32. Blubber by Judy Blume
33. Killing Mr. Griffin by Lois Duncan
34. Halloween ABC by Eve Merriam
35. We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier
36. Final Exit by Derek Humphry
37. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
38. Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George
39. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
40. What's Happening to my Body? Book for Girls: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents & Daughters by Lynda Madaras
41. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
42. Beloved by Toni Morrison
43. The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton
44. The Pigman by Paul Zindel
45. Bumps in the Night by Harry Allard
46. Deenie by Judy Blume
47. Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
48. Annie on my Mind by Nancy Garden
49. The Boy Who Lost His Face by Louis Sachar
50. Cross Your Fingers, Spit in Your Hat by Alvin Schwartz
51. A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein
52. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
53. Sleeping Beauty Trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure (Anne Rice)
54. Asking About Sex and Growing Up by Joanna Cole
55. Cujo by Stephen King
56. James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
57. The Anarchist Cookbook by William Powell
58. Boys and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy
59. Ordinary People by Judith Guest
60. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
61. What's Happening to my Body? Book for Boys: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents & Sons byLynda Madaras
62. Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume
63. Crazy Lady by Jane Conly
64. Athletic Shorts by Chris Crutcher
65. Fade by Robert Cormier66. Guess What? by Mem Fox
67. The House of Spirits by Isabel Allende
68. The Face on the Milk Carton by Caroline Cooney
69. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
70. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
71. Native Son by Richard Wright
72. Women on Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women's Fantasies by Nancy Friday
73. Curses, Hexes and Spells by Daniel Cohen
74. Jack by A.M. Homes
75. Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo A. Anaya
76. Where Did I Come From? by Peter Mayle
77. Carrie by Stephen King
78. Tiger Eyes by Judy Blume
79. On My Honor by Marion Dane Bauer
80. Arizona Kid by Ron Koertge
81. Family Secrets by Norma Klein
82. Mommy Laid An Egg by Babette Cole
83. The Dead Zone by Stephen King
84. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
85. Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison
86. Always Running by Luis Rodriguez
87. Private Parts by Howard Stern
88. Where's Waldo? by Martin Hanford
89. Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene
90. Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman
91. Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett
92. Running Loose by Chris Crutcher
93. Sex Education by Jenny Davis
94. The Drowning of Stephen Jones by Bette Greene
95. Girls and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy
96. How to Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell
97. View from the Cherry Tree by Willo Davis Roberts
98. The Headless Cupid by Zilpha Keatley Snyder
99. The Terrorist by Caroline Cooney
100. Jump Ship to Freedom by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier

The purple ones are the books I have read. And some of them I had to look up on Amazon because I read them so FREAKING long ago....like, when I was 12. Many of them are required reading in English classes here in Canada.

This shit blows my mind! I can understand 'The Joy of Sex' being something one wouldn't want to find in their child's school library but I honestly can't see why some of these books would be challenged other than the need for some parents to keep their children innoccent and ignorant of the world surrounding them. Are these the same people who promote the teaching of 'Intelligent Design' in schools? A grand conspiracy to cultivate a naive, uninformed, ignorant society in which political corruption runs amuk and the rich get richer and the poor stay that way?

tag, you're it

2005-10-04T00:44:00.000-07:00

Tag, you're it

I've been tagged by one of my intenet friends, Jess. I have been insanely busy with sick kids and other life stress crap but I didn't want her to think I was ignoring her. See, the thing is, I've alreay done this one but you can read it here ;-)

breast cancer

2005-10-01T23:21:00.000-07:00

Every 27 seconds, somewhere in the world, someone's mother or sister is diagnosed with breast cancer. Every 77 seconds, a life is lost to the disease.

In December of 2003 and we were getting ready for Christmas; making plans, baking, shopping, the usual preparations. My Mom had a weird skin rash on her left breast but didn't think much of it. It served to remind her that it had been two years since her last 'annual' mammogram and she should make an appointment. Though she almost put it off until after the holidays, something was urging her to get it over with and out of the way.

The mammogram results showed no sign of mass but the technician thought her skin rash was a little odd and recommended that she have it looked at. Mom's general physician found the rash irregular and a little concerning and referred her to a Specialist. The C-word was tossed out there like a random speck of dust but it fell like a lead balloon on our Christmas spirit. 'Might be Cancer' isn't really what you want to hear at any time of your life, nevermind the week before the holidays. And a Merry Fucking Christmas to you too.

An Oncologist wasn't available until after the new year...and in Canada that's lightning fast. The speed at which one is able to see a Specialist is generally a reliable barometer for how serious your condition very well could be, giving you a good sense of fear and dread without even seeing the doctor. If you're scheduled any time within six months of making the appointment your worry is highly justified.

Worldwide, breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death for women aged 15 to 64.

After a few more tests and a visit to the Oncologist, my mother was diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. The rare kind. The bad kind. The kind that has a 30-40% survival rate, with the average life span after diagnosis of 18 months.

Over the last almost-two years she has undergone two rounds of chemotherapy, six weeks of radiation burns, she lost her hair, had a mastectomy and 12 lymph nodes removed. She almost died when one of the chemo drugs depleted her immune system and has had every side-effect on the books for every drug she's taken, plus added a few new ones to the list as well.

My Mom is a trooper, a champion. The things she has been through in the last two years would certainly crush many people but she's never let it get her down...not that she'd let us see anyway. She's strong, determined, and unyielding. Always our rock. She has kicked the ass of the 18-month prognosis, thumbing her nose at the cancer.

Yesterday Mom received some not-so-good news. She noticed a swollen lymph node in her neck a couple of weeks ago...probably just a cold coming on but decided to have it checked out anyway, to be on the safe side. They performed a biopsy and cancer cells have been detected.

We're not sure what this means aside from many more tests and trips to the city to see the Oncologist. Maybe it's nothing but maybe it's something. Something bad. My Mom will take it as it comes and roll with the punches. I wish I could be as calm about it as she is; I think patience and acceptance is my lesson to learn from this. Let's just hope my lesson isn't dealing with loss.

This is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Please get yer boobs checked out. Take your Mom, take your sister, take your friends. I know that it's an inconvenience and sometimes it's hard to make time for yourself but early detection is the key to survival. You're worth it.

I have found a new religion

2005-09-30T00:01:00.000-07:00

I have found a new religion

And it's name is Massage Therapy. Our virtuous leader is Daniel, The Geeky RMT. He tells painfully corny jokes and plays questionable home-made music on his little tape player.

He's a little too proud of being 'also a musician', like being a Massage Therapist wasn't really his dream career and he's just doing this till the music thing pays off. He went into great detail about how he and his musical partner wrote and recorded all of the songs themselves. On a four-track recording system! That's him singing in the background! It only took one take, right through, for this song! He plays the mandolin AND the drums! He wanted to try something a little Japanese with this one!

Let me be very generous and diplomatic and describe the music as a cross between the Tibetan Monks Tantric Choir and Steely Dan. That's right.

I am thinking that the bad jokes and the bad music were all a cheap ruse to keep my mind off the fact that I was paying him good, hard-earned money to abuse me physically. I'll admit that I'm somewhat of a banana but I have a bruise on one forearm from one of his more aggressive 'pressure points' and I'm afraid to look at my back in the mirror. I'm so totally going back on Monday.

stages of grief

2005-09-28T10:45:00.000-07:00

The stages of grief

These past few weeks I've been putting my own personal issues aside and providing a shoulder for my sister to cry on, a stronger arm to lean on. After seven years of marriage, a five year old son, and a new fetus that they tried so hard to make stick, her husband decided that he was no longer happy in their relationship. He'd rather be single and pursue a relationship with the reporter he works side by side with. (he's a camera man for the news) Bastid.

She skipped the first stage of grief, Denial...because, let's face it, when shit is staring you in the face it's hard not to see it. On the night she threw him out on his ass I went over to be with her. After the hysterical crying and hyperventalating settled down she moved right on to the second stage of grief, Anger. And oh baby, was she angry.

We set down at the computer to write a therapeutic email to The Woman and The Husband, hoping it would make her feel a little better to purge some of the things she was feeling into words. Here is what we came up with:

Dear Reporter With The Bad Cavewoman Hair,

As it is unlikely that we will ever meet face to face, I would like to take this opportunity to discuss our mutual association. It was revealed to me this evening that you and my husband of seven years have been carrying on a relationship outside of work for quite some time now. In light of our marriage, our five year old son, and my new pregnancy, I find this behavior very unprofessional.

After reading your email to Husband With Uncontrolled Cock of last week, titled 'For Your Eyes Only', I have direct and intimate knowledge of your ongoing relations with him and your feelings about such. Surely you will be pleased to know that he is no longer cohabiting with me and our son and is now free to continue your infidelity without future complications. I would like to thank you for facilitating the discovery of Husband With The Uncontrolled Cock's true nature, as I'm sure you realize, it takes a very special man to cheat on his pregnant wife. Hopefully you will be there to provide a shoulder for him to cry on when he is faced with the reality of his actions and the life (or lack thereof) he is left with, as a result of his and your decisions of the past months. It is also my hope that you can help Husband With The Uncontrolled Cock find a way to explain to his son that his daddy doesn't live with him anymore.

In closing, I would like to wish you all the best of luck in the future with my lying, cheating, cowardly husband. I am confident that the two of you are perfect for each other.

Regards,
My Pregnant Sister

We wrote it, I went home........and she SENT it. Not just to the two Infidels, but to everyone in his office as well, including producers and news director. To his business partner. To his mother. To his two sisters. Like I said - Anger.

I'm not so sure about the Bargaining stage of grief, I think she was too mad. Then she moved right on to Depression. She's been very sad, not eating, not sleeping, which is not good for the contents of her uterus.

The final stage of grief is Acceptance but I think we've skipped right over that one too because Husband With The Uncontrolled Cock is back.

*Names have been altered to protect the messed up

all's fair in love and war

2005-09-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

All's fair in love and war

It's been a little stormy over here and I'm still not sure if we see the world with the same eyes but it's ok. It's not perfect, but does 'perfect' even exist? We have spent time apart, eight months of seperation a couple of years ago as a matter of fact, and I know from that experience that together is better than apart.

Who said married people have to become mind-melded pod people? I'm far from a Stepford Wife but I'm not a bitch on wheels either. (Although, last weekend I was accused of being a 'Jerry Springer all-that *snap* *snap* tough guy'. That may have been a result of me reminding him of where the door is. But tht's neither here nor there.)

We're working on it. I think effort to make make a relationship work is inherent but at what point do we draw the line? At what point is the result not worth the effort put forth? I'm thinking that we'll know it if we see it.

unconditional love

2005-09-17T01:45:00.000-07:00

Things you should never say to your wife

'you're not the prettiest girl in the room'

'you haven't cared what you look like for ten years!'

along with school comes the germs

2005-09-12T11:04:00.000-07:00

Along with school comes the germs

As all parents know, children are coughing, sneezing, disease-infested hooligans. 'Back To School' is really 'Back To Cooties' as 20+ children get together to combine their bacteria and conncoct Super Strength Germs.

But the unfair thing is: they're cute. And we love them. Our own children could be the most drooly, sneezy, sickly little things but we have the overwhelming and incontrollable urge to kiss, hug, cuddle, and otherwise comfort them with all of our parenting get-better powers. Unfortunately, this leaves us completely unprotected from said Germs.

I fought hard, and I fought strong but this weekend I succumbed to The Germs and now have a voice like I have been smoking for a minimum of 50 years. Every time I cough I expect to see a lung fly out of my mouth.

god bless school

2005-09-06T08:45:00.000-07:00

God Bless School

I sit here on Tuesday, the blessed day after Labour Day, enjoying my morning coffee and trembling with anticipation. This is going to be the last late-start, quiet, relaxing morning before the true chaos that is The School Day begins.

They start today at 11am and only go for an hour. I'm not really certain what is the point of this short day. Counting heads? Tease the parents mercilessly? An hour is a small taste of freedom, but I'll take what I can get.

My bright, beautiful, smart and cheeky children have been the source of endless fun and amusement this summer...along with the headaches and pains-in-asses that go along with any extended vacation. At times it feels like a cage match but thank goodness those days are few (but I can't say '...and far between'. The moms know what I'm talkin' 'bout.)

My baby starts Preschool this year, which is a little bittersweet for Mommy. On one hand, being my last baby, I want him to be mine forever. I wish I didn't ever have to share him with the world but at the same time, I am so excited for him and this new adventure he is about to embark on. He has never been to daycare and only plays with his brother and sister, who are much older. My nephew is a year older than he is, but they don't exactly hang out every day so this peer age, group play thing is all new to him. He is SO excited!

I should also mention, my daughter has her very first shiner just in time for the first day of school. While it may appear that way, no, we don't beat her. The kids were having a pillow fight and the neighbour boy whacked her and sent her flying into the computer tower. Her left eye is nice and purple and, along with her newly missing bottom tooth, she looks like a seven year old boxer.

If we can get through this first day with the school calling Social Services about 'suspected abuse', it'll be a good day...

fart jokes

2005-09-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

...and the fart jokes are plentiful

Due to the fact hat I have an a-hole for a brother in law, I have my five year old nephew for the weekend so that my pregnant, devastated, exhausted sister can get some rest and sort her shit out.

He is an absolute DOLL with eye glasses, a lisp, a great giggle, and an energetic spirit. He and my youngest son are just a year apart in age and act like brothers, complete with the fighting and the comraderie.

As is typical for 4 and 5 year old boys, my boys are obsessed with pee, poo, bums, and farts. At the dinner table, in the bath, in the backyard - and they giggle maniacally. They don't even make sense. All it takes is the word or a sound that might indicate a toot and they're rolling on the floor. God, I love the sound of children's laughter.

I hope he's gonna be ok.

dear gw bush

2005-09-02T10:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr President,

Please pull your fucking head out of your fucking ass and do something. "The results are not acceptable"? No fucking shit, Sherlock. Wanna know why people are looting, shithead? Because they're fucking starving! Babies and old people are dying and on the way to view the disaster from his plush airplane all he can say is, "I'm not looking forward to this trip."

You know you're an idiot when Newt fucking Gingrich is critisizing you:
"I think it puts into question all of the Homeland Security and Northern Command planning for the last four years, because if we can't respond faster than this to an event we saw coming across the Gulf for days, then why do we think we're prepared to respond to a nuclear or biological attack?" said former House Speaker Newt Gingrich.

Back in the Day

2005-09-02T01:33:00.000-07:00

Back in the Day

Before my sister and I hit school age we were the best of friends but once we were opened up to the big wide world of elementary school and the new social life it brought we were not so buddy/buddy. She and I were very different little girls with opposite tastes in clothes, friends, and toys. She was a dirt-rolling tomboy and I was a prissy pink princess. We fought quite a bit but still had a love/hate thing going on.

Back in 1970-something I was in Grade 3 and she was in Grade 1. It came down through the playground grapevine one day that a boy named Vincent was picking on my sister. I instantly saw red and gathered up my Knee Sock Posse to hunt this guy down.

Once face to face with the bully I assumed my haughty indignant stance and confronted his behaviour. When he laughed off my confrontation I immediately grabbed a tiny handful of his greasy mane and flung him to the ground screaming, "If anyone is gonna be mean to my sister, it's gonna be ME!". Never underestimate the wrath of a woman protecting her own.

Tonight, I was experiencing a flashback to that day as I drove past her husband's girlfriend's house looking for his truck.

Fucker.

shopping update

2005-08-31T00:03:00.000-07:00

*shopping update*

We have clothes. After wrestling her to the ground and dragging her into the dressing room with at least one item in each store we went to, she conceded and will not be going to school wearing the swimsuit she's lived in all summer.

Although I wish she'd wear the odd skirt, apparently I have given birth to Sporty Spice and we only shop in the boys' department. It has to be comfortable. And the shoes have to be FAST. And cool. Cool apparently means camoflage print big enough to fit three people inside. At least the boys won't be staring at her ass. If I can just get this 'baggy pants' thing to last about 10 more years we'll be safe but I'm not holding my breath.

My girl also lost her first tooth this week. She's seven and going into grade three and has been rather pissed that she was the only kid in her class with all her baby teeth. 'What a lo-ser' *roll eyes*

Driven by all the glory that is Adult Teeth and an insatiable craving for money, she was so excited that she FINALLY had a loose tooth this week. She's been absolutely obsessing about it. Wiggling it. Talking about it (which totally wigs my husband out). Eating apples and carrots. Within two days she had taken it from barely wiggling to hanging by a few strings - then she just ripped it right out of her head! She was giggling maniacally and, frankly, freaking us right out.

Under her pillow tonight was not just the tooth, but also a note for the Tooth Fairy:

Dear Tooth Fary,

Can you pleese leev me 20 buks? I'll do anything!!!!!!!! Pleeeeees

I am so afraid. We are in for a world of hurt when puberty hits this girl.

busy busy busy

2005-08-30T15:31:00.000-07:00

busy, busy, busy...

With the first day of school on the blessed horizon, my days have been filled with preparations. Dentist appointments, shopping for school supplies, new clothes, backpacks, lunch boxes, shoes. The list is never ending and SO not cheap. Who's idea was it to have three kids anyway? Oh right - it was my grand plan....

I took my daughter shopping for a frustrating 2 hours yesterday and came home with nothing. She likes nothing. She will try on nothing. She refuses to shop in the girl's department but still can't find what she wants in the boy's department. So, we returned home empty-handed. I don't know who's child she is but she certainly can't be mine.

We applied for a mortgage yesterday but have only been approved for $220k. Where we live $220k will get you an 'ok' house in the ghetto or a near-condemned house in a decent area. Seeing that I will neither raise my children in the ghetto or in a shack, we'll keep saving for a bigger downpayment. Momma likes her ocean view.

In the meantime, we'll continue to pay someone else's mortgage for them. Fun.

not that anyone is counting....

2005-08-18T14:01:00.000-07:00

Not that anyone is counting.....

19 days left until school starts.

spam

2005-08-17T23:50:00.000-07:00

Spam-o-rama

Oversimplication Q. Unstudied*
Titmouse O. Impacted*
Impending K. Hookup*
Bullfinch F. Sarcastically*
Slums F. Stratifying*
Speeder H. Enraptures*
Hallucinatory P. Handkerchief*

For the love of BABY F. JESUS will someone please teach these morons how to spam?

Now, I'm a girl who knows how to sell shit; it's what I do for grocery money. I can get my brain around a market like a seasoned used car salesman - no one even sees me coming.

But for the love of Jesus And His Money, how completely devoid of God-given, ever-lovin', common sense do you HAVE to be to open an email with the FROM: address of Exportation B. Returnables* or Headphone P. Deadpan*

* names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent

top 5 guys i would totally do

2005-08-17T00:08:00.000-07:00

Slumber Slut

I had a dream last night that I was making out with Zach Braff in a club in Vegas. Although I LOVE Vegas, I actually hate that show he's on (Frankly, it insults my intelligence because I'm not a 12 year old boy obsessed with potty humour) and he's never really done anything for my mojo before. But dude! He was a really good kisser and it was a way hot dream so I may have to add him to my list of Top Five Guys I Would Totally Do, along with Rick Schroeder and Vince Vaughn, although no one will ever usurp the top spot from Jon Stewart.

I love him. I really do.

boobs

2005-08-16T13:03:00.000-07:00

On Boobs and Breast Cancer

"So, I got my new boob today."

"Oh? How does it feel?"

"Big, heavy, and hot."

"Ah. So just like a real one then."

shit storm

2005-08-15T23:58:00.000-07:00

Shit Storm

This morning I was on the phone when my daughter came running into the room, tears in her eyes, screaming 'Something really bad just happened!'

I'm thinking: Little Buddy fell off the top bunk? Lawmower accident, much daddy blood? H got hit by a car on the way across the street? WHAT? WHAT IS IT? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST TELL ME! You can't just start off a conversation like that without QUICKLY getting to the 'bad' part. Really.

It turns out the toilet jammed up and was pouring shit water, including floaters, all over the bathroom. Out into the hall and down the register into the bathroom downstairs. Who puts a heat vent in the floor of a bathroom anyway? That's got to be a 1960's stroke of architectural genius. There was, literally, a shit waterfall in the downstairs bathroom.

My couragous husband was braving the shit volcano and had waded in to attempt to stop the flow. He had his pants rolled up and was standing on two soaking towels, straddling the porcelain beast, ramming a plunger down its throat. There was crap everywhere. My daughter was in the hallway bawling and I was trying my best not to freak the fuck out.

You see, I have issues with shit germs. We don't have a soap dish; it's liquid only in this house because I'm not touching a bar of soap that someone just touched with their wiping hand. We don't have one of those cute toothbrush holder thingies that matches the soap dispenser either. When you flush the toilet microscopic shit germs are dispensed into the bathroom atmosphere and land on any available surface, including the toothbrushes in those neat matchy holders. And that's just nasty.

It took every ounce of my sanity and every towel in the house to mop up the shit river. Then began the bleaching process.....

I washed the floors three times and I think they're ok now but my daughter is still afraid to flush the toilet.

nostalgia

2005-08-09T00:25:00.000-07:00

Nostalgia

I ran into an old boyfriend last week, the one I dated before I met my now-husband. Things didn't end well back then - I was a pretty unhealthy person in 1990 but we had seen each other around and had somewhat mended fences many years ago. This likely occured over a few tequila shots with drunken hugs and some 'you're my besht buddy!' and ''you know I shtill love ya!' action at a party somewhere.

The encounter was unexpected because I had heard he's been out of the country for a few years and didn't live here anymore. He was out for lunch with his grandma, of all things... (Why do they always come out looking like the perfect sweet gentlemen after all these years?)

I saw him first and I wasn't sure if he saw me or not. Of course, I avoided eye contact until the very last minute, feigning pleasant surprise, carrying a charming, sugar-coated smile all over my face. He took one look at me, turned around, and walked the other way. Uhhh...say wha'?!

This could be one of a few scenarios:
1. He doesn't remember our 'it's all ok' drunken conversation and still holds bitter feelings after 15 years. Highly unlikely unless he's either a complete loser or I was far more special in his mind than I deserve.

2. Maybe he didn't eve see me and he was turning back to help his grandma out to the car and I am completely over-reacting.

3. Perhaps I have changed SO much in the last 15 years that he didn't even recognize me.

Possibility #3 is completely horrifying to me. Not that this was a good thing, but back when we dated, part of me being 'unhealthy', along with being a selfish, snotty little bitch, I also had a bit of an eating disorder.

Side note: is being 'kinda anorexic' like being 'kinda pregnant'?

That's right - I didn't eat back then. Well, I may have once a day. I weighed under 100 lbs. And ummm....let's just say that I weigh just a LITTLE more than that now. *dripping with sarcasm*

The possibility that my body has morphed into this big, soft, baby-producing lump of lard that appears so completely different from my highschool yearbook photo and good-old-days memories so as to be completely unrecognizable to those I knew way-back-when is enough to send me directly to purge mode. I love food way too much now to starve myself now - I'd better learn to stick my finger down my throat. Or maybe I'll go on the Supermodel Diet; nothing but cocaine, diet pepsi, and cigarettes. Twenty year reunion, here I come........

critical mass

2005-08-04T10:28:00.000-07:00

Critical Mass

I have come to realize something: three nights is definitely my critical mass when it comes to sleeping outdoors in makeshift 'homes'. Three nights of dirty children hopped up on the sugar cereal and root beer we allow them to consume freely once a year. Three nights of smelling like campfire smoke - and the breathing in of said smoke. Three nights of sleeplessness because I have supersonic Mom Hearing and am awake at every little noise.

The ocean front, sandy beach resort with spacious, private campsites turned out to be a windy, dusty parking lot across-the-street-and-through-the-houses away from a rocky, barnacle-covered, no sand, bit of ocean. We could hear it, but we couldn't see it. The kids went swimming once but got tossed around in the chuck and thrown onto the barnacles. That was the end of the beach.

That being said, the first 97% of the trip was really fun, even when we were holed up in our friends' motor home during the torrential rainshower on Sunday. You might think that a monsoon would be a trip ruiner but we drowned our sorrows in a cometitive game of '31' where the person with the lowest hand every round had to do a jello shooter. (I think Jon was throwing the game on purpose...) If you don't know, booze makes everything better so the afternoon was A-OK in my mind. The naps ensued as we are all officially too old to drink in the middle of the afternoon.

The adults were outnumbered by children 6:4, plus a 9 week old puppy, but we wrestled them all into submission when they misbehaved*. And when that didn't work we bribed them with money. Whatever will get 10 minutes of peace. There was even a playground that held their attention for brief moments and as long as they stayed out of the way of the cars, they were free to run wild like little savages. Think 'Lord of the Flies'.

After filling spiking their bedtime hot chocolate with vodka* the children went to bed without a fuss each night. All except for our friends' 2 year old, he wasn't so easy. He was onto us and our vodka trick and he wasn't having any part of it. We had to bring out the big guns - tequila*! - but the tequila had the opposite efffect on him and the party was ON. His mommy had to resort to handcuffs and once tied to his bed*, his only option was to sleep. Next year I'm bringing the Valium*; that should fix him.

We were with good friends, rested and relaxed at times, so it was just fine. If we could just shake these kids for a few days we might actually have a relaxing vacation but that'll have to be another time...

* not really

Photos here

yu-haa

2005-07-29T01:36:00.000-07:00

Yu-haaaa

So, I have this get-out-of-the-house part time job - I work two shifts a week in a little British pub. The best part (and the real reason I work there...)? No KIDS! It's usually great and the owners are a lovely couple from London who I'd adopte as my parents if given the chance. But you see, my problem is the people, ie 'the customers'. I don't like them.

I'm actually a fairly snarky person by nature...a little bitchy even. Mostly behind their back, but sometimes to their face too. I have very little patience for drunks (unless I'm one of them) and even less for stupid people. A little bit of stupid is tolerable if you catch me on a good day but downright no-good-common-sense idiots are fair game. When you can openly mock them and they don't even realize, it's just not fun. Certainly not good sport, in any case.

I saw a guy last week with a shirt that had printed on it: I See Dumb People. I thought, 'Ooooooohh, I need to get me one of those!'. I actually think it should be our uniform shirt but that just wouldn't be politically correct now, would it?

This is a long weekend here, it's BC Day on Monday and, much to my displeasure, I think half of the city decided to take the extra day off and make it a four day weekend, making tonight their Friday. Thanks for that. really. Oh, and it was hot. And we don't have air conditioning. I was a sweaty, cranky, red tomato by the end of the night but right now I'm enjoying one of my new favourite things, a Yuha, and trying to block out the mountain of things I have to do tomorrow.

We're going camping for four days with another family. And I'm not worried at all that the adults are outnumbered by the children 6:4. Nope, not at all. The wine and Yuhas will wash it all away.

I'll post pics...if I make it out alive.

smells like boobies

2005-07-25T23:58:00.000-07:00

Smells like boobies

Can you think of a better way to spend a Sunday morning than sitting on the deck under the clear blue sky, enjoying the warm sun and the view of the boats in the bay? No, neither can I. I drank my coffee, read some of my book, enjoyed the fresh breeze and the sound of my children quietly playing (aka staying out of my face).

That is, until my Celtic white skin started to sizzle. I now sport crispy cleavage, as that is the one spot I forgot to slather with SPF 45. You'd think I might have noticed the mammoth mammaries buldging out to worship the sun gods...but no. I spent all of last night trying to put out the fire with aloe vera gel.

That, and escorting my naked, sleep walking husband back to bed when he decided get up and search for imaginary guests we were ignoring, then cuddle up on the couch with one of the children's old baby quilts from the linen closet. He's so cute....

long beach

2005-07-25T00:11:00.000-07:00

A day at the beach

I often wonder if Parisiens visit the Eiffel Tower or Notre-Dame, do Athenians pack up a lunch and picnic at the Parthenon? Not that I'm trying to equate my little corner of the world with such beautiful and historic specimens of architectural penis-comparing such as these. My point is that sometimes when things so beautiful and coveted by others are so easily accessible to us, we tend to take these things for granted.

I live near a gorgeous piece of wild west coast property called Tofino and also close by, Long Beach. Tofino is a small village known for it's funky cafes, galleries filled with local art, and free lovin', free livin', nature worshiping, good-old-fashioned hippy folk. Americans pay good money to see this, apparently, because the town is surrounded by huge resorts charging $500 a night to experience these things. You can also open up your large American wallets and buy a spot on a whale watching boat. The whales migrate in Spring and Fall but it appears they're also happy to take your money for a 3 hour freezing cold ride on an open zodiac at any time of the year. You also get to wear an authentic-west-coast bright orange Survival Suit just to add to the reality of the experience. You would definitely need a Hot Stone Massage and a Flower Essence Therapeutic Facial back at the spa afterwards.

Tofino, and specifically Long Beach, are some of the most western parts of Canada, unprotected by any land and open to the Pacific Ocean. The weather can get pretty extreme up there, even in the summer. Some people surf. Or need to be rescued from the under current by the lifeguards. Eventhough Pamela Anderson grew up nearby, I didn't see her or any of her Baywatch friends patrolling the beach when we were there last week. If they did, they'd have been a little more covered up because it was fucking freezing in the sand and wind storm. It was fun watching that guy chase his beachball down the beach for at least 2 km. That fucker was going fast and, despite our doubts, he eventually caught up to it. It was not as fun trying to eat and drink our picnic snacks with the wind blowing sand into every open orifice on our heads. Nor was it fun to scrub off the sand that was embedded in the sunscreen I had slathered onto every exposed surface of my children's skin. Those babies were coated like Shake 'n Bake. Also not fun was the twisty-curvy-up-and-down, roller coaster, barf-inducing stretch of highway you have to drive on for 3 hours to get there...each way.

It's Summer and we're going to have some GD fun for fuck sake!

nana

2005-07-19T00:30:00.000-07:00

Nana

My Nana was a tiny little woman; all bones, loose skin, and those big old lady glasses. She loved us something fierce - with an open heart, and open door, and open arms. She'd always want to stock up on her 'Nana hugs' before we left after a weekend, wrapping her bony arms around our necks, pointy shoulders and eyeglasses poking into all kinds of uncomfortable places. But we didn't care. We knew we were loved.

She was a woman of simple needs, only wanting to be surrounded by those she loved. She had two other grandchildren but they lived far away and she only saw our cousins once a year or so. We met them once when I was 9 when she took us to visit with her. I remember how weird it was to see her being a Nana to those other kids too.

She was't the best cook but she always had a freezer full of Eggo waffles and ice cream. She made one thing really well: butter tarts - and she'd make them for lunch if that's what we wanted. Or she'd walk us down to Woolworth's luncheonette and buy us a grilled cheese sandwich and an orange pop. Now THAT was a special day.

She wore cardigans and polyester suits and had a wash 'n set every week at the beauty parlour. She even had it coloured a soft brown until she was about 75, saying 'I know I'm not fooling anyone but myself but it makes me feel better.' Her bright red lipstick was a remnant of the days when she was a young girl growing up poor in Toronto and red was a posh colour.

We spent a lot of time there as kids, sleeping over on weekends. I think my mom enjoyed the break and Nana was trying to make the absence of her son, our father, a little less obvious. We had a lot of fun in her tiny apartment downtown on the waterfront playing dress up with her clothes, putting her curlers in our hair, watching the fireworks on Canada Day. We could stay up as long as we wanted, watching TV from her pull-out sofa but I always lasted longer than my sister. That's when she'd make me a cup of 'mother goose tea' and I'd enjoy a brief time with her alone before sleep claimed me too.

Nana was strong and wiry despite her tiny frame but always sensitive. She said her bladder was too close to her eyes because she tended to cry easily - a commercial on tv, a sweet birthday card, and she was a sucker for weddings, especially if they were on her favourite soaps.

I never knew my grandfather; he died when my father was just 16 after a long battle with Tiberculosis. My Nan was left to handle the household a lot even before he died because he was sick for many years. They moved to the city after spending many years living like pioneers in logging camps when he became really ill and no longer able to run the machines. She always worked hard, taking a job in a laundry and walking many miles to and from work every day because she never learned to drive.

I remember Nana talking about 'when I die...' a lot. 'When I die just put me in a big orange garbage bag and throw me out back into the dumpster'...or 'I feel bad for the person who has to come and clean out my drawers when I die', refering to the stacks and stacks of old greeting cards, letters, and photographs she kept stuffed in every one. Every table and shelf was covered with knick knacks, plates, candles, souvenirs. If you lifted one up to take a closer look you might even notice the little piece of masking tape stuck to the bottom with a set of initials written on it. Every single trinket had one. It was her attempt to keep things orderly for the divvying up of the loot...after she died. I coveted her shillelagh above all the others and I often wonder what ever happened to it.

Nana passed away in the spring of 2001 after spending the last years of her life withering away in a nursing home. She held on to her spunk for as long as she could, but deteriorated far too slowly. I think it was frustrating for her because she was so fiercely independant. It was very hard for her to rely on others and was very shameful of the way her body betrayed her in the end.

After Nana died, my aunt received a call from the Department of Social Services - there was an adopted family member looking to reconnect.

Adopted? We don't know anyone who gave up a baby for adoption....

As it turns out, my Nan had not one, but TWO sons before my Dad and aunt were born, both given up for adoption. But here's the kicker - the boys are biological brothers from the same father who she raised to the ages of one and three. I don't know any more about the circumstances that these most basic facts but, as a mother myself, I don't know how she could do it. What brought her to this decision? What on earth would cause a mother to give up her children. We're not talking from birth here, she was their MOMMY.

And was this what she really meant when lamenting about the clean up 'when I die...'?

depression club

2005-07-15T23:38:00.000-07:00

Depression Club

This is what's so so wrong with Tom Cruise.

dirty thirty

2005-07-14T15:55:00.000-07:00

Dirty Thirty

Oh yes, it was on....

A great time was had by all.

so, so old

2005-07-13T00:26:00.000-07:00

So, so old...

By the way, it is now officially my baby sister's 30th birthday. Which of course makes me just that much older...

I believe we are going out for mexican food and I shall bring my camera to record the event for posterity (ie, take many post-margarita photos). Because goodness knows, there will be plenty of entertaining moments... (pssst, that's my sister but that's not her husband)

Yes, I'll share, as long as I don't look too stupid in them. Actually, I'll most likely share even the stupid-looking ones.

hell in a handbasket

2005-07-13T00:03:00.000-07:00

Hell in a handbasket.

I just read on the cnn ticker tape that the sick bastard Joseph Duncan stalked the Groene family for several days after seeing their little girl playing out in her front yard in a bathing suit. That makes my fucking skin crawl. What kind of insane world do we live in where beautiful, innocent angels can't even be safe in their own yard?!

I often think back to my childhood in the late 70's and early 80's when my sister and I would leave the house at 9am wearing a bathing suit, flip flops, and a towel wrapped around our necks and peddle up to the park on our own. We'd hang out there until we got hungry or someone skinned a knee; those being the only reasons to head home before the street lights came on. I mourn for those days of safety, security, and fearlessness. We knew not to talk to strangers but it wasn't the social obsession it is now - Stranger Danger!! Be Careful - Be Scared!!

My hugest, #1 fear in life is losing one of my babies. I have nightmares about one of them being snatched from the park or a store and it is a rare occasion that I let them out of my sight. When we go to the grocery store Nolan has to sit in the kid basket on the cart and the other two have to stay right beside me (not behind me because I don't have eyes in the back of my head - but shh, don't tell them that). I don't know what I'll do when he's too big to sit in the cart.

At the water park we go to, the water play area is fenced in with chainlink and there is a grassy area around it for families to set up a blanket and have lunch etc. There's no fucking way I'm sitting where my children are out of my sight range. Someone might steal them! I must SEE them! I sit on the bench INSIDE the play area while they're playing. I also scope out the other adults at the park for random males without children - and, of course, give the eye to anyone suspicious-looking.

My husband says I need to 'cut the cord' becuase Haden is almost 11 and should be allowed a little more freedom, plus I'm a freak.

Um, hellooo...I'm TOTALLY a freak - and proud of it.

Apparently, and sadly enough, I'm justified.

my first meme

2005-07-10T01:46:00.000-07:00

My first Meme

My IIF Sizzle has tagged me with a blog meme. My FIRST. I am SO one of the cool kids now.

10 years ago: I was 21 and a new mommy. We were so poor but so in love, with each other and with him.

5 years ago: I had had ENOUGH. Stressful career, young family, daily job drama. Despite the fact that I was the bread-winner, I quit my job without any prospects - VERY scarey. This was the best decision I have ever made. Never stick with a job you hate, always follow your passion and do what you love. Though it may not seem like it at the time, it's always what's best for you and your family.

One year ago: I decided to quit my part time/something-to-fall-back-on job and devote myself to my business, focusing my attention on growth and doing what I want when I damn-well want to.

Yesterday: Laughed all day long with good friends, so much so that my face hurt. Enjoyed the company of our neighbours all evening. Good friends, good laughs, good times.

Today: It's a PJ day. Drinking coffee, surfing the net, not getting dressed unless I absolutely have to. I might take the children to the beach this afternoon...and I will likely get dressed for that. I don't think PJs are appropriate beach attire - I might get too hot.

Tomorrow: Taking four children to the water park. I'm going to pack a lunch, lay a blanket on the grass, set up my chair and umbrella, and read a good book while the children play.

5 snacks that I enjoy: cheese, roasted almond granola bars, crackers with cream cheese, wine gums, green apples.

5 bands/singers that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: Matchbox 20, Abba, Black Eyed Peas, Great Big Sea, Avril Lavigne (don't ask)

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: travel, educate my children, take care of my family, become a philanthropist, never wash another dish again.

5 locations I'd like to run away to: Greece, Italy, Thailand, Ireland, New York.

5 bad habits I have: I eat unhealthy food, I drink too much, I'm overly critical of others, I'm overly critical of myself, I'm bad at returning email.

5 things I like doing: cooking, reading, shopping alone, hugging my children, laughing.

5 things I would never wear: cowboy boots, a midrif-baring shirt, yellow, green, lace.

5 TV shows I like: ER, The OC, Six Feet Under, Veronica Mars, The Daily Show.

5 movies I like: American Beauty, Shawshank Redemption, Napolean Dynomite, The Breakfast Club, The Princess Bride.

5 famous people I'd like to meet: Jon Stewart, Oprah, John Grisham, Dog- The Bounty Hunter, Kate
Hudson.

5 biggest joys at the moment: My children, friends, summer, quiet time, getting a decent sleep.

5 favorite toys: From childhood - Barbies, Lite Brite, Lego, Spirograph, colouring books.

5 people to tag: Nilo, Kristy, Melissa, J, Meg.

family reunion

2005-07-08T01:04:00.000-07:00

Family Reunion?

So, mom called today to extend an invitation to The Family Barbeque. First of all, they aren't really MY family, they're my mom's. I've never met most of them; they are all of her aunts, uncles and cousins. But let me tell you a little bit of what I know about them (and likely the reason our side of the family has never been close to theirs).

I'll start off with a brief description of our side, just for comparison. Please don't judge.

Grandma....now, my Grandma is great. My Grandpa died when I was in grade 11 but growing up, theirs was the house we went to after school when my mom was working. Grandma likes her rye and water but hey, she's almost 80 and and if she likes to drink herself to sleep every night she's earned it.

Mom....My mom is the oldest of the 4 children in her home and frighteningly enough, the most normal of the bunch. And that's saying something considering she believes herself to be part of a family from a past life (the Prescotts). When she lived in Vancouver, she'd actually get together with this group and have 'family dinners' where they would only refer to each other by their past-life names. I believe she was Lydia Prescott but I could be totally wrong there.

Walter...He's Walter jr, named after my Grandpa, and a prison guard. He's also obsessed with money and material gain. If it wasn't for his waterfront home, 72" tv and his Mercedes he would be nothing, apparently. At least that's what I assume from hearing him tell everyone about it incessantly. The fact that his wife inherited the money that allows them to live a comfy life being completely beside the point.

Roxanne...She's an interesting character; a loud drama queen hypocondraic and every day is a party. They live in a really skuzzy part of town and love it (I think it's because they fit right in.) and spend every last dime on booze and take out. Her husband is one of those guys you just want to tie up and muzzle. I could go on and on about some of their antics but this is about the other crazy side today.

Dawn...the baby of the family and also relatively normal but also a little unbalanced. She actually takes meds to keep it under control as opposed to the others who wear their crazy like a bagde of honour. She's a teacher with a former-cokehead husband and 2 rotten teenagers. Nothing too wild.

Among these other cousins at this shindig on Sunday there's Lyle who served time for statutory rape for screwing the babysitter. There's Jeanie who gave a baby up for adoption as a teenager and is now playing 'mommy' to a 30 year old woman. There's Brian who has eight children by eight different women. Yes, I said 8. And there's Terry who has been in and out of the loony bin all his life and refuses to take his meds.

I reserve two days a year for the not-quite-so crazy aunts and uncles who are actually in my immediate family, Christmas Eve and one day in the summer for a family BBQ, date to be determined. That's it. My contractual obligations end there.

Ummm...SO not going.

real clean vs surface clean

2005-07-05T00:31:00.000-07:00

real clean vs surface clean

So, we keep the day-to-day bottle recycling stuff (ie, the empty booze containers) in the cupboard under the microwave. Every so often, but not THAT often, our consumption overwhelmes our facilities and the 'recycling cupboard' gets a little full. (By the way, this recycling is completely separate from the cardboard and newspaper recycling stuff that the city picks up every second garbage day.) During these ever-so-brief moments the 'recycling' might spill out and take over the counter top next to the microwave. Maybe even enough so that you can't even use the microwave, but that's totally inconsequential...

Today, Hubby had the day off and offered (ie, it was at the top of his 'Honey Do' list...but whatever) to 'take care of' the recycling one eyed monster. It really is a monster; I can no longer stand to be reminded of my problem with alcohol and prefer for the bottles to be either downstairs in the basement (at the very least) or back home at the recycling centre.

Have I mentioned how much Hubby hates the recycling centre? I'm usually pretty liberal with the term, but in this case I LITERALLY mean hate. Weird people, bees, bad smells, everyone fighting for a spot at the sorting table. You get the picture.

So...today was recycling day. He did a great job, I can see my counter tops again, use the nuker if I desire. In fact, I might just finish off this last glass of vino and make myself a cup of tea. I'd better put the empty bottle away in the recycling cupboard before I put my cup of water in the microwave for my tea.

Oh? What's this?

THE FUCKING CUPBOARD IS STILL FULL OF SHIT!

All the lazy bastard did was clear off the counter top to shut me up. He didn't REALLY clean, he 'man-cleaned'. AKA, if you can't see it, it doesn't exist.

News flash: your mom doesn't live here so you're going to have to clean up after yourself!

2005-07-02T03:06:00.000-07:00

How do you know your husband is a pervert?

Believe me...I know.......

;-)

2005-06-29T23:19:00.000-07:00

On one of my very fave blogs, She Just Walks Around With It, my IIF Kristy applaudes the effort of her IIF - Imaginary Internet Friend - and his/her artistic effort.

For the record, IIF's may very well be even better than the real deal. I for one have never met, in real life, my IF (I can't even call him an IIF because I know he's not 'imaginary'). He's the real deal and so much better than I have ever found in my 'real world'.

Yes, we're of different ancestral backgrounds but I swear to G sometimes we share the same brain. We think the same on just about everything except we have opposite tastes in food. Call me crazy, but I think that's an obstacle easily overcome.

He's wonderful, understanding, non-judgemental, and a good listener. No, he's not gay. I have always wanted a big brother and he is it.

2005-06-28T21:30:00.000-07:00

Day Two

...and all is well. We rented The Pacifier and my girl and I watched it after dinner. The boys rented a game. Yes, in fact, I am a bad mother.

One of the blogs I love, Suburban Bliss, brought up the subject of 'summer entertainment' - the challenge every stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) faces during any school vacation. You know, when you're getting the free babysitting compliments of the public school system.

This mom is feeling rather overwhelmed by a long summer of daylight killing, embarrassed about her inferior mothering skills because she isn't planning weekly educational units with craft projects, field trips, and activities all centred around a theme like some whackjob mom at her daughter's school. A theme that changes every week. Every week, folks. Are they crazy? Who has the time for that?!

I don't recall my mother being the Entertainment Director on my summer cruise...do you?! My sister and I threw on a bathing suit and hit the yard right after breakfast, only coming home for food and potty breaks. We never wore sunscreen, rode our bikes without shoes, and a helmet?! Never! If I whined that I was bored she found me something to do right quick and it usually involved picking weeds in the garden or cleaning out my closet. Guess how often we whined? That's right - not fucking often.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I coddle my children in a lot of ways - I'm pretty lenient with snacks, they don't have to make their beds, I don't let them walk to school (eventhough my son will be in grade six in the fall), I call them all 'baby', and my son didn't learn to tie his shoes until he was 7. Stuff like that. My husband is always telling me to 'cut the cord'. But for goodness sake people, we're talking about building human beings here. If you don't ignore them every once in a while and force them to use their imaginations to entertain themselves they'll never grow up to be self-sufficient adults!

2005-06-27T23:40:00.000-07:00

Summer Vacation, Day 1

Today is officially the first day of Summer Vacation - the weekend doesn't count, of course. So far, so good; all alive and accounted for. Of course, Hubby is off work today so that takes a little heat off good ol' Mom. I only had to take two kids grocery shopping so it was tolerable. I didn't realllllly want to go but the whining and crying about the lack of food in the house was becoming too much to bear.

We now have five, yes 5, different types of granola bars along with crackers, fruit rollups, cheese strings, yogurt, cereal bars, pudding cups, and every type of fruit known to man. I even made muffins with the brown bananas that were left from last week's shopping trip. What did my oldest want for a snack before bed? Soup!!

It's only Day One people..............................

2005-06-24T23:08:00.000-07:00

Things I know to be true.

Now, I know I didn't leave that glass on my bedside table on Monday. But yet, there it was.

I know I didn't eat 3 bags of Scooby fruit snacks and leave the wrappers on my bedside table on Tuesday. And yet, there they were.

I *know* that I didn't eat a bowl of stew and leave my dishes in my room. Hmmmm...dirty bowl in my room.

I'm 31 and don't drink out of toddler sippy cups. Why then, did I find two of them hidden under my bed?

Ok, I'm no hillbilly, but my kids like to go to 7-11 once in a while to get a Slurpee. I don't like them. Why then did I find two Star Wars themed slurpee cups in my ensuite bathroom? (I am so not blaming this on the children because my husband is way more of a Star Wars freak then all three of them combined).

To make a long story short.... when you see those decorating shows where they make their bedrooms their 'sanctuary', it's a lod of crap if they have children under 15. And even then, I'm not so sure.

2005-06-20T00:20:00.000-07:00

I am no longer twenty.

On Friday night we had a few friends over for dinner; 3 couples, barbequed chicken, a salad, nothing crazy. We sat on the deck, looked out at the water, had a few drinks, watched the cars coming and going as a party heated up across the road.

You see, there's a nice 20 year old kid that lives in the basement suite across the street. His landlord and his mom were both over at our place watching the friends pile in to his little one bedroom apartment. They were a happy group, really having a lot of fun.

Around 11pm we decided that they were having WAY more fun than we were and we should just go and see what it was all about. Things went a little sideways after that.

I recall watching their backyard neighbour, The Religious Freak, hanging over her sundeck railing screaching 'Shut the fuck up! I'm calling the cops and your asses will be in JAIL!'.

I recall being overly obsessed that my friend had brought her drink over from my house in my wedding crystal.

I recall watching my friend funnel beer like a frat boy. Remember, her son is the 20 year old; she's no spring chicken.

I recall kicking some Paris Hilton wannabe out of the bathroom because I had to pee really bad.

I recall two boys putting on hockey gloves and helmets with full cages and start boxing in the middle of the back yard. They even had a ref.

It was about then that I decided I was way too old for this. I'm not twenty anymore afterall.

2005-06-14T22:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know it's been 11 days since I posted. Frankly, I just haven't felt like it.

I saw the doc today and ALL is well in one painless swoop! I complained about my migraines and he offered a one-a-day-at-bedtime preventative solution that just happens to be a mild anti-depressant that might just make me drowsy! Headache-curing happy pills that'll knock me out! Keeping my fingers crossed.

shhhhh, it's a secret

2005-06-03T01:19:00.000-07:00

shhhh, it's a secret

I happened upon this blog this week and it struck a nerve. A raw one.

On it, people write their 'secret' down on a postcard and mail it in then the blogger chooses, from the submissions, which to post every week. It absolutely blew my mind reading everyone's ultra private thoughts. I felt so voyeuristic because it's so intimate. In the small amount of text that can fit onto a traditional postcard, such powerful messages can be relayed.

I know that a lot of people bare their dirty underwear blissfully (and in many cases, inanely) in their blogs but this, in its anonymity, the intimacy is intense. The absence of responsibility, risk, guilt, incrimination (I could go on...) creates an environment for honesty and confidentiality that is so simple in its humanity but so rarely found in another environment.

I am a person who is painfully private. So much so, that I fear the inability to have a truely honest and intimate relationship with anyone, including my husband. I have such a profound fear of recrimination and humiliation that I can not trust anyone with my most private thoughts and feelings.

I can't even talk to my doctor (of 10+ years) about the depression I battle weekly. I seriously need some Happy Pills but despite the fact that I pep-talked myself for days leading up to today's appointment, when the time came I clammed up and didn't mention anything about it. Which, of course, makes me feel even worse.

I see him again on the 14th so I'll continue to prepare the conversation and see how it goes.

this little thing called sleep

2005-05-27T09:37:00.000-07:00

this little thing called sleep

This is what I saw before I went to bed last night...err...this morning. That's right, sunrise. It was 5am.

Sleep and I are so not getting along these days. Its a nap day for sure.

my mother in law is a snatch

2005-05-26T11:49:00.000-07:00

My mother in law is a snatch

Ooops! Was that my outside voice?

To offer a little background info, my husband is the oldest of four children. His mother has been married twice and had two children with each husband; he and his sister with the first and two brothers with the second. She was youngish when she had her first two, but her second marriage didn't fair any better than the first. The second husband's name is officially The Asshole. In her defense, The Asshole really is an asshole. He was terrible to her two older children, but then again, she was too...she allowed the beatings to take place. The first two children were her practice children, the things that happened to them growing up either 'didn't happen' or weren't her fault because she was 'too young to be a mother' at the time.

Hubby's two brothers are 11 and 12 years younger than him, currently college-going, part-time-working, walking-on-water types, especially Chris, aka The Golden Child. Her office is plastered with photos of the younger boys, she gushes and brags about them endlessly. Alas, her co-workers don't even know that she actually has four children as the older two are not even mentioned in passing. The Practice Children don't exist in her fantasy land.

She stopped by yesterday evening, wearing the weight of the world on her shoulders. Sighing dramatically, face hanging in acute despair. Her fantasy world has been shattered.

The Golden Child got arrested this weekend! *gasp*

Apparently the fool was being a drunken fucktard and 'fell' through the plate glass window of a storefront downtown. I'm not sure what he was charged with or if charges are even being pursued. (I was too busy trying not to giggle hysterically at the time to absorb any of the specifics...) But I tell you, you'd have thought he had just been sentenced to 25 years the way she was carrying on.

Ummm...hellooooo crazy lady. The Practice Children have never been arrested! They're both actually lovely, surprisingly well-adjusted (no thanks to her), functioning, contributing members of society.

Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

clean messy or dirty messy?

2005-05-24T23:21:00.000-07:00

clean messy, or dirty messy

Tonight was Ladies Night. Tam, C, and I went to this place for dinner and a few bellinis and we were good girls, home by 10.

Tam is a bit of a clean freak...but she works at the nasty hospital, admitting freaks to the ER, so I can't say I blame her one bit. But 'germs' are a frequent topic of our discussions at such events. Topics covered tonight were head lice in schools and the prevention/treatment of such, airplane air, which bathroom stall to choose for the lowest microbe-count, general germ transfer in every day life, as well as other plague-tainted topics.

We got to talking about how new-mom freaky we were about our babies 'way back when' and it came out that this girl made her own husband, the father of her child, wear latex gloves to change her baby for the first year. Please tell me there's something wrong with that. Please.

In the course of this conversation, C described me as a 'pig'. Really. I'm still hurt by this (and obviously dwelling) and I think it was a really mean thing to say. I can't think of any other way to take what she said, other than to have hurt feelings.

I will admit that in the past I have not kept the cleanest house in the neighbourhood. It's actually something that I get rather embarrassed about when I think back. It wasn't the proudest, nor the happiest time of my life. I was literally a mess, emotionally and physically. In the last 2 or 3 years I have learned a lot, grown a lot, and changed a lot.

In pondering my relationship with my mother (a frequent topic of thought these days), I suspect that my aversion to cleaning stems from there. She was a single mom who never had 2 days off in a row. She always spent her two days off cleaning and this always made her bitchy. We dreaded her days off because we could never do anything right. All she did was yell and bark orders. There wasn't a lot of fun, it was serious business and we were a burden... a messy burden at that.

So, when I moved out on my own, I think I subconsciously decided to be the exact opposite. I had no one to tell me what to do and I was going to be more laid back and have different priorities than her. I would still rather go to my son's ball game or help my daughter with her homework rather than wash the dinner dishes. And you know what? That's a choice I often make. They seem pretty like sound priorities to me but why do I feel so defensive about that?

I am a 'lick the lint off the soother and shove it back in before he starts crying' kind of mom. I can't say I sterilized anything for more than a couple of weeks. I never worried when my children picked up a toy off the floor and put it in their mouths, even if I hadn't vacuumed that day. Maybe not even that week.

This brings me to cleanliness standards. .. What's normal? What's fanatical? What's neglectful?

I wash my floors and clean my bathrooms once a week, but I also have three dirty little mongrels. I'm lucky if I can get them to flush the toilet. Despite that fact, under all the toys laying on the floor, the dishes in the sink, and the shoes in the foyer, my house isn't too bad. Not sterile, but cleaning products are applied weekly.

Is there a difference between Clean Messy and Dirty Messy? I'm thinking a little obsessively about this and want to avoid becoming as clean-crazy as my mother if I can help it. I don't want to be her.

dear skinny bitch

2005-05-19T10:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Skinny Bitch,

I know you've lost weight; I know you went from a size 14 to a size 2. Congratulations.

But we're tired of hearing about it. Really.

No one wants to listen to you describe your diet plan and 'intake vs. metabolism' theories at every meal time. No one wants to hear about your personal trainer 14 times a day. We don't need to know how many times you run each week. It makes us tired just hearing about it.

It is not your moral duty to convert all the overweight heathens of the world despite the fact that you now hold the key to the Holy Grail of weight loss. Back the fuck off.

Sincerely,
kim e

ps. About that 10 lbs you gained while whoring around in Mexico in January...you still got 'em. Just because you can squeeze into a pair of size 2 crotch huggers, doesn't mean you should. Put the camel toe away, for the good of mankind.

...and sleep eludes me

2005-05-18T00:27:00.000-07:00

Sleep, she's a cruel bitch. I don't know what I did to piss Her off, but our feud began about 8 years ago. These days I'm completely dependant upon a Canadian cold medication, Neo Citran, for sleep. Warm, comforting, lemony. I'm a slave for the Sleep Elixer. Tonight, my cupboards are bare...

weekend update

2005-05-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

Well...the kidless weekend went off without a hitch. No one called at 11pm wanting to be picked up because they needed their Mommy. No allergy attacks, broken bones, or trips to the hospital ER. The phone remained silent (eventhough I called them about 3 times,... but that doesn't count.)

Hubby and I went out for dinner, had a cocktail or two, then wandered over to the neighbour's for some grown up conversation and a glass of wine or two.* We came home, watched some internet porn, and had crazy date sex in the kitchen. (no, not in any food preparation areas, sickos)

The urge for French Toast came on rather suddenly in the morning and not much grooming preparation went into appearances before heading out for breakfast. We were enjoying a coffee and ignoring each other over the Sunday paper when I attempted to run my fingers through my hair. But they got stuck right near the bottom. My hair is rather long so I took a look to see if I could work my way through the knot. Ummmm...it wasn't a knot. Think 'something about mary'. That's right.

Post breaky, we enjoyed a quiet day of recovery before the children returned. A Sunday nooner might have been in there somewhere too.

It sure beat the hell out of how I thought our night would go down. When you're an old married couple like us, it pays to not get your hopes up too high. Expect the worst and you'll rarely be disappointed. I was pleased, as a matter of fact.

*....or six, not that anyone was counting.

i'll be walkin' around nekkid

2005-05-12T09:47:00.000-07:00

Woo hoo! For the first time in I-don't-know-how-long, I'll be childless on Saturday night... all night. My sister in law is taking the two older children and my sister is taking my shortest one. Over night, dude. What will we do with ourselves? The possibilities are endless!

Scenario One: A romantic dinner in a child-free restaurant. A nice warm bath together, good wine, candles. Walk around the house naked. Sex in the living room, if we feel like it. Several times.

Scenario Two: Call up friends, invite them over for dinner. Adult conversation. Watch the sunset over the ocean. A childless, whine-free evening.

Senario Three (aka 'the most realistic option'): Pick up beer and wine. Order in Chinese. Watch stupid movie on tv, sitting on seperate couches. Drink copious amounts of said wine and beer. Fall asleep on said couches, fully dressed, said movie still blaring on the tv.

I'll let you know which way the night swings.

hooray for the uterus

2005-05-10T11:31:00.000-07:00

So. Mother's Day. 8:19am. I wake up to the phone ringing followed by my shortest one wailing in complete fury and outrage. See, he wanted to be the one to answer the phone, not his sister. It was my sister in law calling to wish me a happy Mother's Day. At 8:19am. On Sleep In Day. (isn't that nice?) When common sense was handed out, this girl was way at the back of the line.

I got THE cutest card from my daughter. Yes, it says 'you make good coocies' and inside the mouth it says 'I love you'. The birdie's mouth opens and closes when you open and close the card. She's fabulously intelligent and an engineering genius. Didn't you know?

Aside from the sleep deprivation, I actually had a good day. Hubby went out and picked up some McRauncho's for breakfast then cleaned my entire house while I took the kids to my mom's for a luncheon she had for Grandma. It wasn't too painful...there was wine.

ouch

2005-04-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

I just received my new driver's licence in the mail. Holy fuck, am I fat.

...the best revenge

2005-04-28T11:30:00.000-07:00

They say that living well is the best revenge...

In February Katie Holmes broke up with her B-list actor boyfriend Chris Klein (not that she's so A-list herself or anything) and it was announced today that she's dating Tom Cruise. What better way to say 'in yer face bitch' to an ex?

Btw, does anyone have a bottle brush I can use to scratch out the inside of my sinuses? If not, I'd like to live in a Nyquil-induced coma until this nasty cold passes.

on the rebound

2005-04-19T23:15:00.000-07:00

So...the new pope was elected today after mucho speculation. I'm really surprised they chose the ex-Nazi; I thought he'd get blackballed immediately in light of the fact that the Catholic church doesn't really need another mark on its reputation. Here's my brief recap...no need to watch cnn or anything.

The bad news: You're not likely to see any married, female priests handing out rubbers from the church basement anytime soon. This is the guy who kept JP2 in line. And he was pretty straight to start out with.

The not so bad news: At 78, the dude barely made the age limit for consideration so I doubt they're investing in the long run. He's essentially the 'rebound pope'; the one they use to buy them dinner and keep them warm at night while they get over their feelings for the last guy.

Oh, and latin with that nasty German accent just sounds weird.

one of those days....

2005-04-12T12:01:00.000-07:00

Today I'm having on of those days. You know the ones...nothing can go right. I've had terrible insomnia lately so I'm dead tired, slept in, then had to rush around to get out the door.
Think 'chicken with head cut off'. I feel so bad for the children on those mornings; I don't mean to yell, really.

My lovely husband actually had coffee ready and waiting for me this morning (I won't mention that it was so strong and bitter that my spoon came out half disintegrated after stirring...). After tasting it I decided that it needed more creamer and reached behind my cup for the spoon I had already used, knocking over my entire mug of hot, sweet coffee. It was literally a coffee explosion; all over the counter, a 5 foot spray of creamy coffee all over the floor, splashes up the cupboards, dripping inside the cupboards, and all over the white dishwasher. Not to mention that this happened when I needed to be walking out the door. The kids were already in the car and I had to run so I just mopped up the worst bits with paper towel and ran.

So I pulled up to the drop off zone at school so they could do the commando roll out of the van and run into class in the nick of time and off to the gym I went. I had managed to salvage about 4 ounces of coffee for my travel mug, which I was really looking forward to; I like to have a chat and coffee with the gym daycare lady before my workout. I got Nolan all settled in and took my much-deserved first sip of coffee, which dribbled all down the front of my white t-shirt because the lid wasn't on properly (!!). So I worked out with a big brown coffee smear on my shirt, trying to keep my vest in place to hide it a bit. It didn't matter that I was about ready to pass out from the heat; I wasn't taking the damn thing off.

I'm hoping the rest of the day goes a little better but I'm pretty much staying in one spot to try to improve my odds. I have to sign off now; I have to wash the floor because you can barely get your feet unstuck to walk across the room. Although, that could work in my favour ...

i'm a big girl now...or trying to be

2005-03-28T23:56:00.000-08:00

I found myself this weekend having somewhat of an out of body experience. Or at least a dual consciousness.

I was sitting in the formal livingroom at my aunt and uncle's house this Sunday evening, having a peer-to-peer conversation with my relatives. I found myself, while holding down an intelligent exchange, feeling that it was somewhat surreal. (the grown ups, dude!) And you know what? It felt good. Comfortable even.

Even at the age of 31, with a husband and three children of my own, I still feel like a kid sometimes; especially in that arena. Reflecting back today, I suspect it was the absence of my mother that brought on my sudden feeling of independence and grownupness. (yes, that's a word. shut up.) My mom was ill and wasn't able to make it to Easter dinner with the whole famdamily. And while I was dreading it initially, it turned out to be a positive experience.

How to describe Mom without sounding petty and/or irrational... Mom has a certain way of making everyone around her feel a little bit less, a little bit watched, a little bit judged. It's not really anything that she says, not in so many words. It's all done very passive aggressively, with a slight intonation of her voice a look, subtle body language. This is also her way of avoiding any responsibility for the feelings in invokes in those around her; the ones being watched, the ones being judged. As I have grown older, I have become more brave in confronting her when these looks and tones rear their ugly heads but her response is always that it is my perception of events, that it's not real at all. She is the Queen of Denial.

In a sick and twisted way it makes me obsessively crave her acknowledgement and approval. I have vowed endless times that I'd keep personal details to myself, that I wouldn't open myself up to the hurt of scrutiny and never quite living up to her expectations but I'm kinda stupid that way. Or weak maybe. I constantly find myself slipping out too much personal information, only to have it come back and bite me in the ass in the end. I'll learn one day. Maybe.

thank god for the amazing race

2005-03-22T22:13:00.000-08:00

I had never watched it until this season but the colossal mountain of crap, completely void of any value, that saturates our airwaves has forced my hand. I'm not sure if it's the lack of anything else of value or that it's actually a decent show, but I'm honestly enjoying it as a 'reality show' (yes, those are quotations because there's nothing real about these shows).

My interpretation of the characters still in the race:

Greg and Brian, brothers:

These two are walking cliches. They call each other G and B, wear bandanas over their bartender-chic do's, and speak 'California Cool'. They have a special handshake and are physically unidentifiable from each other. Think LFO ...and you KNOW they drive Jeeps.

You know the type.

Lynn and Alex, boyfriends:

Jello-y femme-tastic fun. I love these guys. The token gay couple, these guys personify every homosexual stereotype like a script. They do not run, but prance. They do not choose a horse based on size or sturdines, but 'ohhhh, look how pretty!'. I think they'll come in second, only because they stopped to bitch-slap their cab driver on the last leg of the race.

Ron and Kelly, dating:

Ron is a former POW and Kelly was a beauty queen; TO and I like to call them The Robots. They are a couple of cold fish who, we believe, didn't even really know each other before the race, nevermind dating and in love. Sure.

They show no emotion and don't listen to a word the other speaks. They don't fight at all, just completely disregard everything the other says. I have never witnessed such narcissism, nor such a passionless relationship. Ron will explode with deep-seeded, unexpressed rage and frustration one day but Kelly won't even notice.

Uchenna and Joyce, married:

This couple has a little black cloud following them around in their lives, but it doesn't seem to get them down for a second. I bet Joyce was a cheerleader.

I predict them to be top 3, despite their inclination towards bad luck.

Ray and Deana, dating on and off:

This dude needs to take a chill pill. His rage boils just under the surface and no one can do anything right but him. My bet is, they're 'on and off' due to the time she spends in the hospital ER with black eyes.... uh huh

He's totally bitter each week they don't come in first (which is every week, btw). He fancies himself quite the competitor and entirely superior over the other back-of-the-pack teams, or the 'bottom feeders' as he calls them. It doesn't matter that quite frequently the majority of the bottom feeders are ahead of them in the race.

My prediction is, he'll off Deana during a difficult leg of the race and finish single-handedly because she's just holding him back, ya know.

Rob and Amber, engaged:

Last but not least, the slimiest couple to ever hit reality television. Both are double Survivor Alums and alliance vetrans who employ every sleazy tactic to get ahead. They're the couple you love to hate and they will SO win. But only because they're both such scam artists.

who the hell invented spring break?

2005-03-22T14:32:00.000-08:00

Day Two

I love my children...I really do.

But they need to go back to school now.

jumping onto the bandwagon

2005-03-20T17:42:00.000-08:00

Inspired by an assignment I've seen on a few of my favourite blogs, I thought I'd work on a '100 Things' list of my own. A tool in my journey of self-discovery perhaps...

1. I'm a mom, above all else.
2. I dislike chocolate. Really.
3. I have a very unusual job.
4. I worry way too much.
5. I love wine. Red, white, whatever...I don't discriminate
6. My family members are all insane.
7. Including me. I think.
8. My sister is my best friend.
9. But we hated each other as teenagers.
10. I'm the 'good one'.
11. What my mom doesn't know won't kill her.
12. The truth might.
13. I would love to be able to write well. Something that people want to read.
14. Or sing. That would be ok too.
15. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
16. I'm having a midlife crisis. Somewhat.

100 things is an awful lot. '16' seems like an ok place to stop for today.

it could be worse

2005-03-20T16:08:00.000-08:00

The first post must always be awkward. How does one choose a starting point?