Now this is a real horror story...

I was doing some surfing - much as I'd love to say it involved a board and some waves it was actually just the internet kind - and I came across this site.

http://www.stepfordwife.com/

How in the hell have I never seen this before??? Please note the frightening similarities in appearance to my own site. I kept looking for the part where someone says hahahaha this is just a joke, we're just being super sarcastic, but I couldn't find it. As much as there is some extremely laughable content, the fact that it appears to be written by people who BELIEVE in it scares the crapola out of me. Really? Is it really real?
I feel nauseous.  The only thing I can take from this is the potential for future commentaries. Eek.

kindergarten

I am going back to kindergarten today. Really. Since I last posted (yes it's been a while, but I have been busy) I have taken more steps to fully embrace my current role as a full time stay at home mom/housewife. Rather than be totally sucked into the world of daytime television, bonbons, mindless housework hours, and late afternoon cocktails, I have carefully loaded my schedule so that my days are now structured enough to hopefully keep me out of trouble, keep my ass from getting too big, and keep my from becoming a full time closet mommy's little helper alcoholic. In other words, busy enough not to be bored. I have started doing before and after school care for 3 other little girls from our neighborhood, which in itself isn't terribly challenging, but does force to drag my butt out of bed every day with more urgency than I have when it's just my own family needing me up and around. Also keeps me from indulging in cocktail hour until later on, as I tell my husband and whoever else might be around that I am "working" and will wait till later for that glass of wine. Do I sound like a raging hard core drinker? Really I'm not. Honestly, it's pretty much my only vice, unless you count obsessive reading as a vice. My husband does....anyway. Then in addition to my new child care responsibilities, I felt the need to fill the yawing chasm of time between the morning school bell and the 3 o'clock bell with something other than just grocery shopping, cleaning bathrooms and doing laundry. So I applied and was hired to be the new noon hour supervisor for our school's kindergarten classes. Today is my first day. I am invited to attend their pot luck lunch, and meet the kids and parents for the first time. Then tomorrow I jump in for real, and every day Monday to Friday after that, for one hour each day. Again, I figure it will force me to structure my other big housewifely plans around my lunch time commitment, and possibly help motivate me to be more constructive with my time. Plus I think it will be frigging hilarious to spend lunchtime with the kindergarten kids every day. And as a bonus, I actually get paid to do this. So woohoo for me. I have to go make a whole bunch of sandwiches to take to the pot luck lunch today, so signing off for now.

Genderless Baby

Holy cow, so have you heard about the couple in Toronto who have decided not to tell anyone (other than the baby's siblings and some close family) what the gender of their youngest child is? The baby's name is Storm and the parents don't want to impose gender related constrictions on their kids, but rather allow to them to develop as long as they can without the imposition of gender stereotypes. Hmmmm. Anyway, they have really pissed a whole lot of people off. But honestly, what is the big deal? They have just gone about it in a more public, more purposeful way than most parents. As anyone who has ever been a parent can pretty much tell you, it is absolutely fascinating to watch your babies develop. And I have always found one of THE most fascinating aspects of kids development is how they seem to instinctively gravitate to certain toys that are gender specific. I myself am not what I would consider a girly girl, and was a real tomboy as a kid. So when I found myself at home with three little girls of my own, I did not shower them with dolls, or dress them in ribbons and bows. I did not paint their rooms pink. In fact, if it had not been for grandparents and aunties, there may not ever have been a dollie of any kind in the house. What I'm saying is that my kids had plenty of non gender specific toys to play with, shows to watch, books to read and so on. And yet what did they all love in the end? The so called girl toys. It was like some kind of karmic payback for me - I used to torture my sister's Barbies in all sorts of nasty and creative ways, and now I had to learn how to put dresses and shoes on them, without the aid of hot glue or staples. I watched my girls pick up baby dolls and rock them, and feed them bottles before they could even walk. This is not to say that only girls are capable of such nurturing acts. I am married to a man who has endless patience with his daughters, changed a million diapers, and played dolls with them whenever requested. But Barbie was not the only thing the girls played with. They loved to play in the dirt, pick up worms, and chase a ball. But despite being pretty well rounded, they were most definitely female in their souls. What does that mean? Should we all encourage a genderless world and just let the chips fall where they may, let our children "choose" their disposition? Because in the end, they are either boys or girls. Penis, or vagina. I don't think what the parents of baby Storm are doing is so awful really, or so different from what many of us parents out there have already done. It's like forcing someone who is left handed to write with their right hand, which is what we used to do. Now, we watch to see which hand our child chooses, and then let them go with it. Granted, choosing your own gender "disposition", as I seem to be calling it, certainly could have much more complicated future ramifications for your child than being a lefty vs. a righty in a mostly righty world. But then isn't it our job as parents to help to guide our children, help them make decisions for themselves, and do what we can to support them in becoming good people who can eventually go out and contribute positively to society and lead happy fulfilled lives?
Anyway. Ultimately I believe that regardless of parental intervention most kids will go their own way, make up their own minds about who they are, and what they like etc. All we can hope is that we've instilled some good stuff in there somewhere before they stop listening to us. I think that all those people who are outraged at what baby Storm's parents have chosen to do should just chill out, and worry about their own families, and their own choices. There are many different ways in this world to raise a child, and in the end, there is no one right way. As long as your child and your family is thriving in a positive manner that isn't causing harm to anyone else, I say go for it. There are a lot worse things out there to worry about.
Baby raised without 'gender' sets off debate - CTV News

mean girls

Why is it that we women always seem to have to have another woman on the outs? It's true. Somebody is always the latest casualty. Somebody is always the latest one to screw up and do something that makes the other women mad, causing us to gang together and validate each others feelings of ill will. It's so bizarre. And it can be something so insignificant that you do wrong, like gain some weight for example. Or lose some weight. Any major fluctuation in weight in either direction is definitely cause for some cattiness, and rumor mongering amongst the rest of the women in that woman's social circle. Don't deny it ladies, you know it's true! But why do we do it? We start doing it when we are little girls, and for some reason we keep right on doing it, right up till we're senile old biddies in the nursing home - it's probably even worse then, I mean just imagine, there are virtually no old men left by then, so it's a whack of old ladies all thrown together and forced to spent all their waking hours side by side, my god I'll bet it's vicious times in those places..."that Mabel thinks she's pretty hot s#@**! since she got that hip replacement...and doesn't Ethel know that shade of blue hair is so last year??"
And it's not like most of us haven't at one time or another been the woman on the hit list. So you would think that we would learn a lesson about being supportive and kind after that, not wanting anyone else to have to go through being odd woman out, but no, we jump right back on that bandwagon of ladies ferociously relieved to be accepted once more, and desperate not to be pushed back off.
There are very few exceptions. I know a few pretty kind and saintly women, but even they enjoy a good giggle at someone else's expense now and then. So what is it? Some genetic trait that is part of our inner ability to survive? What purpose does it actually serve? I mean, what if we didn't do that, what if we acted like men who just don't really care that Joe looks like he had plastic surgery, or that Sam flirted with Sally, or that Jim passed off my coleslaw recipe as his own? Because they really don't care. So why do we? Is it some primal need that we have, part of a kill or be killed mentality from our cavewoman days gone by? It horrifies me to think that this is a carry over from some ancient need to compete for a mate thing, I mean really, could we still be that ruled by biology? And if so, shouldn't it stop by the time we have mates, children, and all the rest of it? Or is it learned behavior by then, so that even though it's not necessary anymore in terms of evolution, reproduction or whatever, it's all we know so we just can't help ourselves?
Whatever it is, it's real, and it's out there. Even when we know better, and that we should take the high road and not participate, inevitably there are times when we lapse in what should be better judgement and join in. I hear things all the time about women supporting women organizations and such, which is great, but why do we even need them in the first place?? That is my quandary.
As the mother of three young girls, I would love to solve this mystery, because without understanding the "why" behind women act the way they do, I am at a loss as to how to ultimately teach them not to follow in our footsteps. I think that would be a revolution indeed, in female evolution.
On the other hand, maybe life would just become super boring without all the drama that female feuding causes. The Real Housewives series empire would be duller than dirt, that's for sure. I don't have the answer, but I will keep looking. Whether I will choose to share it with the rest of you bitches is another thing....

Dr. Google

Well, it's official, I have shingles. What is up with that name anyway? It's very unglamorous as disease names go. I would much rather be able to say "I have the dreaded spotted archipelagoitis of the upper torso, oh dear god!" than "I have shingles...". Oh well. It's most definitely better than saying, oh that rash all over my side? Yeah, that's just bed bug bites.
So once again I have fallen victim of my own reluctance to see a doctor in a timely fashion, and now it is too late for me to take the medication necessary to shorten the duration of the disease. All because I consulted Dr. Google instead of my family doctor. When will I learn? Although I have to admit, it was a fairly honest mistake that I made in my self diagnosis initially. I mean, think about it. I was waking up in the night thinking something had just bitten me, because that was what it felt like - little prickling nipping sensations. And then sure enough, the next day I would see these itchy bumps showing up all over my stomach, my side, then my arm, my back....Apparently my doctor - my real doctor, not Dr. Google - thinks I have a mild case, since I have survived now almost two weeks with it without any great amount of pain, just enough to annoy me, but not enough to drive me to go see my real doctor soon enough to take any medicine to combat it. Oh well. I was so relieved to discover that it WAS shingles and not the horrible insect infestation that I originally was obsessed with, that I rather nonchalantly posted it as my facebook status, and was shocked to receive about 25 hits almost immediately from friends who have had it and were very concerned with how I am feeling, and to make sure to get the pain medication etc etc. So either I have "lucked out" so to speak, and really do have just a mild case, or the worst is still to come. I prefer to believe that I have super human powers of pain tolerance. Or I have just gotten so used to not feeling well - as in chronic sinus headaches daily, and a knee that feels like it is full of broken glass - that what's a little needly nerve pain? Not that I turned down the prescription for the "nerve" medication that the doctor insisted I hang on to in case things get worse. It's good to be prepared, that's the way I roll. In the meantime, I will self medicate with a glass of wine, and get set to cheer on the Canucks in the next round of hockey playoffs!

self diagnosis

Does anyone else out there do this? You wake up one day with oh, let's say, a rash. Instead of going to a doctor, you just get on the internet and google "rashes"....and see where it takes you. Okay, I'll admit it, this is exactly what I did about a week ago, when a mysterious rash appeared on my stomach and my side...and then my arm...assuming it was likely some kind of insect related thing, since I felt otherwise fine, I quickly narrowed it down to - oh dear god! - bed bug bites. Because that is just about the worst, most creepy crawliest thing I came across during my computer self doctoring journey, so that must be it, right? Anyway, once I had it in my head that there was even the remotest possibility that this indeed was the problem, I began systematically dismantling my entire bedroom. I'm talking about going through my entire closet, my dressers, throwing out clothes, washing everything else twice in hot water. Then I pulled apart the bed, got rid of the pillows, the duvet, washed all the sheets etc in hot hot water every day for a week, and then proceeded to vacuum every square inch of my box spring and mattress daily also, and naturally every other square inch of my bedroom. During all of this no one else in the house appeared to be afflicted with any sort of skin abnormality, but I remained convinced that I was battling an infestation. At night I would wake up, sure that if I turned on the light I would see them, crawling all over the sheets...okay, I actually got up, found a flashlight and spent ages crawling around the bed, lifting the covers, the sheets, looking all around, but found nothing.
Anyway. So this morning I get up, and as I'm dressing the rash that has reached my back starts to burn and prickle...so I contort myself and with the help of a couple of mirrors I attempt to have a closer look at what the hell is going on back there. Meanwhile, I realize that my arm is also burning and prickling...and suddenly the light bulb goes on. I mean the one in my head, not the one in the bathroom. A clustery rash, blistery bumps, burning prickly pain, and all on one side of my body...and off I go to the computer again, to google "shingles" this time. Aha! As I continue to read I become more and more convinced that THIS is what I have. And really, it doesn't look so bad. In fact, I'm pretty damn happy if this is what it is, 'cause I'll definitely take shingles over frigging BED BUGS in a red hot second, that's for damn sure. Okay, but yes, just to make sure, I did call and make an appointment to see the doctor tomorrow, because you never know. But I am feeling pretty good about this diagnosis - who knew that finding out you have shingles would bring me such relief?? And the other good news is that my house got one hell of a good cleaning before I figured it out, so it's a win win situation all around. Well, sort of. Kind of an always look on the bright side of life scenario really. God, I'll be so disappointed if it turns out to be something else tomorrow....well, something worse I mean. :) Oh, and it's really kind of serendipitous, actually, because you see, you get shingles only if you've had the chickenpox - which I got for my 6th birthday, in fact. And this Friday is my 44th birthday...so seems rather fitting, doesn't it?

Scrapbooking

So I recently had an excuse to enter the world of scrapbooking. Now let me be perfectly clear. I am not interested in scrapbooking. Never have been, and after this episode I can definitely say I never will be. This is not to say anything against those who enjoy this past time. To each his own, right? It's just not my thing. So why did I scrapbook you ask? Well, my friend is getting married. And she is really into scrapbooking. And so for her bridal shower we decided to ask all the guests to do a scrapbook page of their memories of the bride, and bring to the shower to be presented in a book as a gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time...So I dutifully made my way to the dollar store to pick up some supplies, as obviously never having done this before, I don't have so much as a sticker or a pair of fancy scissors in my possession. I found myself in an entire aisle of doohickeys for the art of scrapbooking, and realized very quickly that I just might be in over my head a bit. Actually I realized that I was most likely about to drown, but I took some deep breaths and plunged in anyway, because I love my friend, and I figured oh come oh, how hard could this really be? Dear god, if I had only known. I wandered up and down the aisle and found myself starting to just randomly pull items off the shelves and pegs and throwing them in my basket. I had no idea it was so complicated, that so much STUFF was required. Suddenly I started to feel really pressured, I mean, we're talking about me presenting a page as a special gift to someone who is REALLY good at this kind of thing, and I really didn't want mine to look like it came from a complete loser. Anyway. I finally figured I had enough stuff, and headed home. Then I put it all away in the corner of my room and tried not to think about it for a day or so. But since it didn't seem to magically be getting itself done, I hauled it all out on Friday, which was a professional day for the kids so no school, and got started. I would normally not try to to a task like this that requires me to concentrate when the kids are home, but I suspected that I might end up needing them to take over and finish it for me if I got too desperate. I labored - and I mean labored - all day, sweating, hunched over, getting glue in all the wrong places, paper cuts, and a huge headache. Finally I was done, or at least as done as I was going to ever be. And really, I thought it didn't look too bad. Certainly not like something that I had exerted that much effort into, but pretty decent nonetheless. I proudly took it downstairs to show it off to my family, feeling like I had physically actually run a marathon, and they were all suitably impressed. My husband even said it was better than he had expected from me...I know there's an insult in there somewhere but I'm not going to think too hard about it. Then the next morning the girls asked if they could make a page for the scrapbook too. So I said sure, and handed off the bag of stuff to them, found a picture they could use, and sent them downstairs to create. However, a few minutes later my husband announced that he was going off to do some work at a friends house and was going to take the kids with him, since I was heading out to some shopping of my own. I went downstairs to break the news that they would have to work on their scrapbook page later in the day, only to discover that they were nearly finished. I mean it, they were all but done. Just some words to write on one last piece of paper, and that was it. And it looked GOOD. In fact, they had probably twice as much stuff on the page as I had on mine, all nicely mounted on card stock with appropriately placed stickers beside them in all the right places. Well, I thought, so much for my plan of telling everyone that the kids had done my page for me, isn't that SWEET? They had just kicked my scrapbooking butt. Oh well. It's not like I was ever planning to do this again anyway. Not mention that my friend that we were all making these pages for knows me all too well, and therefore will totally appreciate the blood, sweat and tears that went into the page that I created for her. Which is what it's all about after all. So I pack up the pages, and the next day I take them to the shower where they are placed in a book with everyone else's. And when my friend gets to my page, she oohs and ahhs and laughs and then reads the little blurb I wrote and when she gets to the end, her voice cracks and she gets teary, and I feel totally content with my efforts, it was all worth it. And next time a scrapbooking duty of any kind is required of me, I will not hesitate for a moment to hand it off to the much more capable hands of my daughters. This was definitely a once in a lifetime thing for my once in a lifetime friend!

friends

I'm back. Survived spring break more or less intact. Trying to get my head around the real world again - oops, got bills to pay, need groceries, when exactly is soccer practice? Spent Monday doing laundry in a daze, it was all I could handle. After some industrious housework Tuesday morning however, I organized some lunch and prepared for a visit from an old friend. Sorry L, let me clarify - old as in we've been friends for a long time, not old as in old! The past couple of years have been very up and down for both of us, lots happening in our personal lives, more than the usual you could definitely say. And so time passed, and it had suddenly been a really long time since we had spent time together. But me with kids in school, and her with a massage appointment close by to my place, we had the perfect excuse to play catch up. Now there are friends, and then there are friends. Do you know what I mean? There are people you get together with after a long time apart and you fuss and you worry - does my house look okay, do I look okay?? - and then there are people who you know your house could be a disaster and so could you, but it wouldn't matter in the least. L is that kind of friend - it never feels like any time has passed at all when I talk to her. Sure, we've both gotten a couple of years older - that's code for a couple of years wrinklier, saggier, etc etc! - but honestly I realized that as we sat and visited she looked to me just the same as she always had. L is a beautiful girl, very tall, gorgeous dark hair, blue eyes and a great big laugh - she has always made me feel warm when I'm with her, warm as in cozy, comfy. I'm sure I'm like most women my age, getting hyper critical of my looks, as time is starting to definitely stamp it's mark upon my face and body, sigh, and I know my friend feels the same way, so it was weird when I suddenly caught myself looking at her and just seeing HER, the way she has always looked to me - warm, beautiful, vivacious. Funny huh? Maybe that's when you know you're really friends with someone - you pick up just where you left off, and when you part you feel younger again yourself. I hope she felt the same way. Anyway, in case I don't get around to telling you this L - we have great intentions of getting together but time does get away on us - I hope you read this and you get what I mean. It's just a reminder to me of what I said to myself earlier this year about cleaning house - as in my personal house. My promise to surround myself with people who make me feel GOOD, not stressed out or stuffed full of negativity and anger. Hey, maybe I'll get really lucky and if I clean out my mind, my body will follow. Or something like that. Although that kind of sounds like an ad for Alzheimer's, or perhaps a cult of some sort. Whatever, I'll take it if it makes me happy!

Shameless on Showtime

Shameless on Showtime
If I ever had (or have) any doubts about my parenting skills, thank you to Frank Gallagher for dispelling them - nay, for driving them into the ground. I feel so much better about myself after watching the first season of Shameless, the best thing to hit TV in a long long long time.

Spring Break Down

Yes indeed it's that time of year again. Two weeks - yes we get 2 weeks - of spring time fun with the kids, no school.....otherwise known as spring breakdown time. So with a house full of kids and the weatherman playing cruel tricks on me, I attempt to keep my sanity and maintain some level of peace around here until April 4 when they go back to school. In other words, don't expect to hear much from me, other than the occasional desperate latenight attempt to sit at the computer when everyone is finally asleep....

I will be trying to keep a running log of our daily activities on the Moody Girls blog, but as for "me" time, it will be in short supply for about a fortnight. Wish me luck!

forever young

Yesterday I posted a little something I found on Youtube that I couldn't resist called Middle Aged Women Behaving Badly. Just a collection of moments captured on video of women of a certain age and beyond, simply engaging in behavior that while might not necessarily have been bad, was ultimately more than they could handle. It was funny because of course they thought they COULD handle it, most likely because maybe they once could and did handle it. And then time marches on and an occasion arise to participate in something that you suddenly remember was super fun once upon a time, and before you have time to think about it, you're jumping on that trampoline, or swinging on that rope swing...and then disaster of course strikes, because let's face it, you're 44 years old, not 14, and oh yeah, the old bod isn't quite what it used to be. Even when you're a fit 44. Because whether we want to accept it or not, 44 really isn't 14, or 24, or even 34, damn it. Sometimes it's a sneaky betrayal, like the way your knee insists on hurting every time you go for a walk (you can ignore this level of betrayal for years), and sometimes it's right in your face totally unavoidable, like breaking your toe trying to re-enact an episode of dancing with the stars, or throwing your back out doing downward facing dog. I mean, I think these are reasonable things that I should be able to handle doing, and for the most part I can, but now and then my body decides otherwise and says "NO! NOT TODAY!" very clearly. And then I just feel bewildered and somewhat (or very) pathetic. Time is a weird thing. Today I had coffee with an old friend of mine. My first friend in fact when I moved back to Canada with my family at the age of 14. We have only seen each other a few times in the past 25 years since high school, but are both back in the same city once again, and so have gotten back into touch. And it's so weird really, because I can sit and talk with him and honestly, I just don't feel a day over 18. It's like no time has past at all, when of course lots has, so much that we have trouble figuring out just exactly where each other was during which year etc. So while my body continues to march to the beat of time's drum, my head and my heart apparently don't. Figuratively speaking of course. I remember asking my mother when she turned 50 if she felt different and she told me she felt just the same as she did when she was 18. I thought that was pretty interesting and amazing, and now of course, I am going through the same experience myself. I came away from my coffee chat feeling quite energized, quite bubbly, quite young in fact. So maybe that's the secret to staying young - spend some time with someone who knew you when you really were young, because that's how you still seem to each other. It sure worked for me today - plus it was a whole lot safer than death defying dance moves or trampolines!

Middle Aged Women Behaving Badly

'
OMG, this is too funny. Just look at what happens when we don't act our age....imagine explaining some of the injuries these got to the doctor....reminds me of my "dancing with the stars " re-enactment gone bad moment with my sister in law....one broken and one dislocated toe later....at least no one got it on camera...or did they????

Pregnant Women are Smug by Garfunkel and Oates

Wife Savers

I have a friend who recently was asked if she could houseclean for someone once a week. So she agreed to do it, and last week asked if I would be interested in working with her. So I said sure, what the heck, I'll make a few bucks and it fits nicely into my day while the kids are at school. Although I'll be totally honest, I wasn't sure about how I would feel about cleaning some one else's house. So I thought about that for awhile. I suppose it's because - let's be honest - most of us would automatically look down on someone who is a "housecleaner" for a living. I mean isn't it most people's goal in life to attain a standard of living where you can hire someone else to come and clean your house? Not to actually BE the house cleaner yourself. That's a terribly snobby way to think, but I was just trying play devils advocate with myself and be honest. Okay, so there's that. Then there's the idea of being knee deep (so to speak) in someone else's dirt. Was I okay with that? Well, sure, that's what rubber gloves are for, right?  In the end, I decided that I would go ahead with it, and by the time the big day rolled around I was actually feeling somewhat excited - I was really curious to see how I would feel about the whole thing once I was actually there doing it. Would my cleaning abilities even measure up to my friend's? What if I was really a lousy cleaner, I could potentially be exposing myself and revealing what the state of my own house must be - "clean??? You call that CLEAN???" scenarios were running through my head. Anyway, we walked through the house together after we arrived to decide which areas we needed to concentrate on the most, and divvy up who would do what. Then my friend dropped the bomb - apparently the lady of the house's mother in law was flying in from out of town this very evening to come stay for a visit with them. Suddenly the entire job took on a new meaning. We weren't just cleaning house anymore. We felt akin to super heroes, swooping in at the last minute to save the day. Just call us....the Wife Savers. Because let me tell ya, this was not your ordinary untidy house. This was definitely a cleaning product, clutter challenged home. So we turned up the stereo, donned our rubber gloves and went to work. Over the course of the next three hours we cursed, we scrubbed, we boxed up clutter and we sweat. We sweat a lot - who needs the gym, I'd be in great shape if I did this a few times a week! We actually went so far as to do a little home staging for mom in law - a bag of apples emptied into a bowl and set on a nice and newly uncluttered buffet in the kitchen, couch cushions plumped, you get the picture. And then we did a final walk through, gathered up all our supplies, gave each other a big woohoo! and a high five and drove our tired asses home.
Later on in the evening I was thinking about the job, and I was really amazed at how good I felt about it. I never feel that excited about cleaning my own house. Why not? I suspect it's because I wasn't just working for myself, I was working for someone else, and the whole time we were working we both kept saying things like "oh I just can't wait till they get home and see this, they are going to be so happy!"And they were - they called my friend up and thanked us for everything, and raved about how great everything looked. Oh, and could we please email them a quick note to let them know exactly where we put away all the stuff we packed up - probably so they could look for it without looking like they were looking for it in front of his mother, oops!
Oh, and one more thing. It was nice to get paid too - both with compliments and cash.

C'Mon Get Happy

It must be because I watched Celebrity Apprentice last night. No, Donald Trump doesn't exactly make me happy, although I admit that I laugh every time I see his hair. It's a new season and one of the new apprentices happens to be David Cassidy. You know, of The Partridge Family? Hence the title of this post. Anyway, poor David is apparently not meant to succeed in the cut throat world of Mr. Trump's reality show, as he got fired at the end of last night's episode. But I got up this morning, and it was a beautiful clear sunny day, and as I was making the coffee I realized I was humming a little Partridge Family tune. Not such a bad thing. If fact, I'm feeling pretty sure that it was a major help in my keeping my sanity so far on this Monday morning. It was pretty typical around here, a couple of the girls dragging their feet, another doing last minute homework that they assured me was done every time I asked over the weekend. But it wasn't bringing me down. I was feeling pretty triumphant when we arrived at school, just in time, and as we got out, one of the girls water bottles fell out and rolled under the car. I told them to go on in and I would bring it after I retrieved it. As I walked around to the other side of the car, I saw to my surprise that one of my back tires was completely flat. Completely. As in could not have been any flatter. Huh. First things first though. I carried on and was crawling around in an attempt to reach the water bottle when I heard a bemused voice ask if needed some help. I looked up to see my brother in law watching me - his kids go to the same school as mine - so I said, sure! As he was crawling around trying to reach the elusive bottle he said something like this is a good way to start your day, and I laughed and said yeah, and I also have a flat tire too. So after he managed to grab the bottle, he then gallantly proceeded to dig out my spare and change my tire, which was really nice. Only slight problem was that the spare was almost as flat as the original. But I knew of a tire place just a few blocks away, so I figured I'd give it a try and headed off very very slowly on my funny little flat spare. I was certainly not popular with the traffic behind me by the time I made it to the tire man, but made it I did, driving practically on my rim by this time. However, it turned out that the tire man wasn't there. His father was manning the desk and told me his son had to go take one of his kids to the doctor...that sounds all too familiar! But he told me to just leave my car and they'd fix it when he got back and call me. So I handed over my key, and grabbed my coffee mug that I had fortuitously remembered to fill and bring with me, and started the walk back home. It was a little dusty as they are doing a serious amount of work down the hill from the road, getting ready to put a new highway by the river that will get the truck traffic out of our little neighborhood that has built up over the years. But regardless, it was a great morning for a walk. And now it's time for another one, as the tire man just called me to say he's back and my car is all good to go. And I have a feeling that I will be humming a little retro tune in my head all the way there, and that's just fine by me. Sorry you got fired last night Mr. Cassidy, but thanks for helping to keep me smiling this Monday morning!!

Robbed of sleep

Well, after yesterday's debacle of being robbed, I am now feeling definitely robbed of sleep. The police came and poked around, we called the alarm company and arranged for someone to come and see about setting up perimeter night vision cameras and so on, and then we locked everything up, set all the alarms and went to bed. All the while trying to pretend for the kids' sake that everything was normal - don't need to send them into panic mode too. Of course both my husband and I were awake most of the night I think. He was up prowling around with a baseball bat every time he even imagined he heard a noise. Meanwhile I was lying in bed most of the night trapped between him and our daughter Kate, who has the flu and wanted to sleep with me yet again, alternately being terrified that she was going to vomit on me, or that the snoring from both her and my husband would prevent me from hearing the sounds of yet another assault on our property. This morning I sit here sucking back coffee, trying to get my bleary head around all the upcoming appointments and events in the next few days. Meetings with the alarm company, the police, someone who hopefully wants to buy our little Audi, soccer practice, soccer team party, soccer jamboree, picking up my nieces along with my own kids at school, oh, and a play date for the twins. Also must remember to get quotes for house insurance that is due this month, return a birthday gift that the recipient already had and get replacement gift, and pick up a gift for one of my nieces whose birthday I have already missed. What else? Right, make sure everyone is fed and clothed in something that will pass for clean. And take care of my sick kid too, which will make the shopping portions of my to do list somewhat difficult. Guess those just may not get done. When all else fails, blame it on a sick kid. That works. I can blame my messy minivan on the thieves who rifled through it the other night, even though sadly I wouldn't probably have even noticed anything unusual in there other than my glove compartment being open. As for the rest of the list, I will make some phone calls, write it all down on the calendar, throw in a load of laundry, cross my fingers and hope for the best. First I definitely need more coffee...

Stop thief

Why do people take things that don't belong to them? Isn't that one of the first things we try to teach a child? How many of you out there got busted as a little kid stealing a candy  or a toy that Mom discovered when you got home from the store? I bet lots. It happened in my family - my little sister and brother got itchy fingers while grocery shopping with Mom and each helped themselves to a candy from the bulk bin. Mom spotted them after they were home, and back they all went to the store, and the kids had to give back the candy and say sorry to the store manager. Lesson learned. So obviously there must be a whole whack of people out there who either missed out on that lesson as kids, or for some reason it just didn't mean a damn thing to them. Because for the second time in a year, we were robbed last night. Someone came onto our property, which is quite private, and helped themselves to some things in our carport. Yes, I know. We shouldn't leave anything in the open, not locked up, and you'd think we'd really have learned that the hard way already, since it's happened once before not long ago. I guess I will blame the part of me that despite this second theft of my stuff still has a hard time believing that there really are bad guys out there, and obviously way to close to home. We live in a nice neighborhood, but why would I think that would put off would be thieves? "oh these folks all seem so nice and have such nice homes, let's not rob THEM..." and off they go to steal from who, the people who don't have anything? Again, I know, only myself to blame. Plus there is a ton of major construction going on as a new road is being built, so lots of people around who don't live here. Again, yet another reason for us to be more careful. And so we will be. We'll be locking things up extra tight from now on. But I still struggle with it, because it sucks that I have live like that, worry about my home, and the safety of my kids, all because there are people out there who have no respect for others, who didn't learn that it's not right to take from other people, and who don't give a shit.
Ah well. Keep calm and carry on, right? Maybe next time there will be nothing out for the thief to take except my husband's ancient smelly beast of a cadillac - oh sorry, I mean his special car. One can always hope...

the Oscars 2011

Is it just me, or was there a real lack of glamour at the Academy Awards this year? The whole show just seemed very unremarkable. I couldn't figure out what was missing at first, and then when I realized how thrilled I was at seeing Warren Beatty and Annette Bening, well, I asked myself, where are all the other MOVIE STARS? Okay, for those of you who don't know, yes, I had a huge crush on Warren Beatty when I was about 13. I even had a poster of him from Heaven Can Wait on my bedroom wall. What can I say? I had particular tastes, even then. But really. Other than an appearance by Kirk Douglas which I thought was pretty much the most entertaining presentation all night, where were all the other big stars? I'm talking the Meryl Streeps, the Jack Nicholsons, the Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt. You know who I'm talking about. The MOVIE STARS. Isn't that why we watch the show in the first place? I don't want to sit for 3 hours listening to people who act like humble, hardworking joes just doing a job. What is the point of the movies at all if not for the thrill of escape from reality???? Please. Give me your over the top actors every time, at least on that night of nights. It's supposed to be all about the glamour, the scandals, the gossip, offensive self indulgent speeches that drag on and on, never ending movie montages set to swelling movie scores, some outrageous choices of dress, and some DRAMA, am I right?? Ho hum, I have to conclude that it was indeed a very boring, beige event. Maybe next year they should just computer graphically insert some of the old hosts and presenters into the proceedings. Inject some life into the whole thing. At least invite some MOVIE STARS to come, for gods sake. Did they all take the night off to watch the show at home in their jammies? Booo.
Anyway, that's my take on this years Oscars. Next year, less humble mumblings, and more glitz and glamour please. Pass the popcorn.

Bullies - nature vs nurture??

We hear a lot about bullying these days. When I was a kid, we knew what a bully was, and yes, some us  were bullied. I myself was a target many times growing up - we moved a lot, from country to country, so I was often at the disadvantage of being the "new kid" who had a funny accent and weird clothes etc, plus I wore glasses throughout my entire childhood, and I had braces as a teenager...you get the picture. Somehow despite these obstacles I managed pretty well, and was never picked on for long before I had figured out a way to fit in. But I certainly didn't have any help from special programs at school, or rallies, or pamphlets, or books or seminars. So with all these new resources available and the fact that bullying is so in the news all the time, why does it seem that the problem of bullying has gotten far more serious than I remember it being when I was a kid?
Here's what I think. When I was a kid, and someone picked on you, you told your teacher, or your parent, or your big sister, and one of them went and kicked the crap out of the bully's parents, or the bully. Unless you were talking about a whole gang of bullies, in which case you were basically screwed and you just did your best to fly under the radar as much as possible with all the other little kids getting picked on. It was just one of those many rites of passage of childhood that we all survived and at least then we weren't alone. The problem is that now if you're a bully you can get away with just about anything. Because not only can no one get away with punishing you, such as a teacher, or another parent, your own parents most likely don't give a damn what you do to other kids anyway, and they certainly don't give a damn what your teacher thinks, or other kids parents think. So there is absolutely no one left to punish the bullies out there. And they know it, so they go to even greater extremes than they once did.
This is why I believe that the Young Offenders Act is a load of crap and should be thrown out. If kids know they cannot be punished and held accountable to anyone for their actions, of course they'll do whatever they damn well please! Duh! Isn't that like the basic first rule of parenting?? Actions and consequences?? Apparently not the first rule anymore. I suspect that this basic facet of raising your children must be completely missing from an appalling number of households out there, because how else do you explain why so many kids are growing up to be these horrible little monsters who have no respect for other people? They cannot all be born sociopaths. Therefore I believe it is the parents who are responsible, and the parents who should be held responsible along with their progeny for any heinous acts they commit which should be punishable by law.
Okay, so what should the consequences be? Some lawmakers out there need to come up with a family version of punishment for harassment. Do they get their house toilet papered and egged every Friday night? Do they get wedgies doled out on a daily basis? Do they have to supply a different child with their lunch money every day?
I don't know what the answer is, but it's about time we started figuring it out. Maybe what we need is a good old fashioned Anti Bullying super hero, a vigilante to take matters into their own hands and clean up this world. Wouldn't that be interesting? I know one thing - that's a super hero that I could believe in! What do you think? Any takers out there??

birthday parties

When did birthday parties change so much? I mean from when I was a kid? Honestly. We dressed up nice, took a present to someone's house, ate snacks their mom had made, played some goofy games, got a little loot bag and went home again. Now, you have to drive your kid an hour across town to some whacked kids gone wild type of place where the host parent pays a ton of money for someone else to provide some form of entertainment for the children, some crappy food, and meanwhile I have to hang around at a mall or find some other way to kill 2 hours, because it takes too long to drive all the way home, and then turn around and drive all the way back, and I have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon, like spend time with the rest of my family, and if they had just opted to have hot dogs and chips and play pin the tail on the donkey at their house that is next door to mine I could be home instead of wasting a ton of time and gas money on a child's birthday party. Sorry but I just don't get it. I throw all my kids birthday parties at our house. Always have. Yeah, I have to take a little time to plan things out, make sure I have food organized, some games ready to play. So what? It's my kids birthday. I want to celebrate it with them, spend some time with them and their friends. Isn't that the point? Kids don't really need that much else do they? It's one day a year, surely it's not that much to ask of a parent to put a little bit of time and energy into running a birthday party for their child. Sure sure, I hear you saying, but we don't have a big house, or we both work and don't have enough time. I think it's a cop out. It's just like everything else in society today, "instant". As in pick up a phone and hey presto, instant birthday party. I get that when the kids are a bit older maybe they want to go out for pizza, or to a movie with a couple friends, something like that. Okay, I can accept that. But when they are little like mine are - 7 and 8 year olds - I think a couple hours of fun at home is a good time. I put a little time into something like a scavenger hunt for my daughter's party last year when she turned 8, we made it an "Amazing Race" for the kids. And then just let them run and play and snack etc. My kids love to help come up with some fun stuff for the goody bags to hand out at the end. And they love helping figure out what games to play, what their party theme will be. And I love throwing the party with them. But I feel like I'm in the minority, and I don't get why. A couple years ago I mentioned to another parent that it was my daughters birthday party coming up, and she said "oh really, so where are you going?" and it took me a moment to understand her question. "Well, nowhere, actually, the party is at our house," I replied. "oh really, that's different. Good for you, "she answered back, leaving me trying to figure out what exactly that meant. I'm sure part of it, maybe a big part is that although the party is supposed to be for the kids, more and more it seems possible that it is actually for the parents, as in who can come up with a bigger better version of the birthday party than the last one the kids went to. Hmmmm. So is that it, a combination of keeping up with the Jones's and just sheer laziness, not wanting to take the time to put the party on yourself? That sounds pretty awful. I'm sure there are plenty of parents out there who would take great offense to my opinions on this. That's okay, it is just my opinion, after all. They are just as entitled to theirs as I am to mine. Just please don't expect to drive my kid across town bearing gifts to your kids birthday parties any more - if that's how you want to throw your parties, the least you could do is provide transportation. And that's all I have to say about that!

tax time

So tax time is looming again. Cut off dates for RRSPs etc coming up at month end, and time to start crossing my t's and dotting my i's, so to speak. In other words, time for my annual worry fest to begin. Does anyone else hate this time of year? I absolutely dread it. I don't know why, really. I keep track of all my paperwork as it comes in the mail. I have a few extra things I have to do as my husband does earn part of his income each year under his own business name, and so I have to keep track of that in addition to all the other bits and pieces that go with tax time - things you can write off, etc. I'm no accountant, so I try to keep it as simple as I can, but it can be a bit tricky, as I'm most of you out there can attest to. The thing is, I have this problem with honesty. As in I am super honest, to the point where I worry that even if I think I've done everything correctly that it will somehow turn out that I didn't and I will be in big trouble.  I am horribly paranoid that I will do something wrong, forget something or what have you, and then one day there will be this knock on the door and these guys who look something like the evil virus dudes from The Matrix will be standing on my front porch, waiting to take me away to whatever special hell is set aside for people who screw up on their income tax. And I'll be shrieking "but I didn't MEAN to, really! I swear I thought I had everything in that shoebox organized properly!!"as they drag me off, and no one will ever hear from me again....
So every year after tax time is done, I promise myself to be more organized, to get everything ready long before the cutoff day. That way I won't have anything to be worried about, I will know I've done everything right. But every year I seem to end up in low grade panic by the end of April. Okay, so the fact that I am already worrying about this and it's still February is a good thing I figure. I am hoping this means that I will be really motivated to get everything in order right away, and then this year I swear I swear I am going to get that filing system set up that I always say I'm going to do, and it will all be easy peasy this time next year.
Remind me to look back at this next year in April and see what I have to say then. Assuming that I haven't mysteriously vanished after posting this which somehow alerted those scary Matrix tax guys to my presence and they carted me off the moment after I filed my taxes, oh man...

tying the knot

This year two of my long time single friends are getting hitched. In fact, one did so just yesterday down in Mexico. The other is tying the knot in May. I have known both these ladies for many years, and I have to say it has been very fun to see how excited they both were when they got engaged. It has been a few years since I've had anyone close to me get married, and so I have gotten back into the wedding fever vicariously through them I guess. It's really quite fascinating to watch someone else go through the madness that is getting married. I forgot how consuming it is. Suddenly there is nothing more important than what dress you will wear for example - my one friend fell in love with a dress that she bought, sent us all tons of pics of her in it, and then when she picked it up eventually from the store and tried it on at home was horrified to find that she didn't think she liked it all any more. She shouted to her fiance (she was in her closet trying it on because she was so worried that he might try to peek at her!) whether he thought it might be alright if she bought another dress, and he bravely answered back that it would seriously affect their wedding budget if she did...Anyway, I guess she took it over to her sister's and tried it on in an actual room with her shoes etc and decided it was fine after all, phew. My other friend who got married over the weekend posted a comment in her Facebook status the day before the wedding that she was having some trouble composing her wedding vows. The day before!! Well, she was pretty infamous back in our university days for staying up all night before a final exam to study (I should know, I was often with her), so perhaps she still performs best under pressure.
It got me thinking, what were my vows? What exactly did my dress look like again? In my experience, most brides that I have known don't actually end up remembering all that much about their wedding, it's all such a blur. You worry for months about all the tiny details, hyperventilating over every facet of the big day - what your colours will be, who your guests should be, who will sit with who, what will be your song, what should your favors be, what kind of flowers should you have, oh my god, and then the day comes, and does any of it really matter in the end?
Well, I suppose it does. It IS your wedding day, after all. It SHOULD be special. Because no matter what changes, what happens down the road, whether you stay married happily forever after or not, in that moment, on that day, you are saying to the world that you are willing to give it a try. And that is all a wedding is really about, I think. Two people going out on a limb in front of people they care about, taking a great big leap of faith with each other. Sometimes they don't land well, and sometimes they fly. But you'll never know which it will be if you don't take that deep breath and say "I do."
Besides, who doesn't love a great wedding?? It's definitely not just the happy couple who don't always remember much the next day...!

Fab Four

Why oh why is everything in this world designed for a family of four??? Every dinner deal, every vacation trip deal, every nice looking car, everything. Of course I am complaining bitterly because I have a family of five. I just had to overachieve and squeeze two babies out of my second pregnancy, and so now we are one the cursed families that don't fit into anything good in this world. Arrrgggh. I don't know how many times I have wished that my twins were at least identical instead of fraternal - I have these plans where we would book a trip somewhere for four and get the special rate, and then we would dress the twins alike and just keep hiding one somewhere so we could pass for a family of four, like in the bathroom on the plane, or in the bathroom in the hotel lobby when checking in...except that of course my twin girls look nothing alike anymore, other than being about the same size. They won't even wear their hair the same length any more, damn them! So selfish. Ah well. So it occurs to me that for every family of five out there like mine, all pissed off to be missing out on the good deals, there must also be some families of three equally pissed that it costs them as much or more to eat out or travel as it would if they had an extra warm body attached to their family....hmmmm. I may have found a loop hole! I wonder if there is like a match making agency out there somewhere for odd numbered families like ours, some company that would match us up with a family three, so that all we would have to do would be to book our vacations together, for example.  Geez, if there isn't such a service available I should set it up! Hmmmm. Of course for safety's sake you'd have to have one of the adults in my family travel with the family of three, just in case they became a little too fond of one of my kids and didn't want to give her back, and then I suppose that I would be the one who would end up sitting with my three kids on the plane for example, while my husband would "take one for the family" and sit with the strangers, and probably just drink cocktails and sleep the whole time, while I dealt with spilled meals, bickering, and vomit bags...but think of the money we'd save, right, it's about the money.
Maybe I should just lobby for deals for families of five instead.

Trash or Treasure?

They say the eyes are the mirrors of the soul. Meaning I guess that by looking at someone's eyes you can tell what kind of person they truly are. I don't know if that's true, but I would like to apply the theory to something more everyday. I'll call it "the minivan is the mirror of my life". This I do know to be true. The condition of my minivan is generally a very accurate reflection of the my life, I have to say. Today I attempted to clean it out, and found all kinds of things, none of which belonged at any time to me. An empty coffee cup from McDonalds, another from Krispy Kreme, an empty cardboard hot dog container from 7 Eleven, along with several napkins from all three of the above mentioned establishments. Two broken umbrellas, two working umbrellas. A backpack containing my husbands curling shoes, and his curling broom. A Tinkerbell rainjacket. A double bedsheet, 2 towels, a frisbee and a sandbucket, complete with some rocks and sand. Several reusable grocery bags, and two plastic grocery bins. Two empty wine bottles and an old jacket of my husbands. Four empty plastic water bottles. Okay, you get the picture, the list continues but I won't bore you with the rest of it.  So I bagged everything up and either threw them out or deposited them in the laundry room. You could map out the story of my family's day to day existence by the things I find in that car. Now expand that theory to my house. I swear that every horizontal surface in my home is magnetic, because no matter how many times I clear them off, I turn around and they are covered in crap again. My children and husband seem drawn to them like zombies..."ooohh, empty counter, must empty everything out of my pockets on to it....ohhhh, empty dining room table, must cover it with toys and crayons and half empty glasses of water..."And I run around behind them all like a deranged escaped lunatic shrieking "whose cup is this?? why are there socks on the coffee table?? who put pinecones and rocks on the buffet????"
And then they all just look at me, totally puzzled, and I realize that it's all just completely lost on them. Where my eyes see garbage, their eyes see treasures. And I do not have a clue how to change that, or if I even should. So I sigh and end up telling them to just put their stuff away - if it's precious, then at least treat it like it's precious, as I am handicapped in that way and cannot tell the difference between their trash and their treasure.  Maybe one day something will end up being worth a bijillion dollars, and I can hire a maid.

Big Love

I'm not a huge TV watcher, at least I don't think I am. In part because who has time to watch TV? I don't, not until after homework is done, kids are in bed, lunches for the next day are made, etc etc. The other reason I don't think of myself as a big watcher of TV is the lack of anything worth my time to watch. Lisa's guide to choosing a show to watch - if it has a laugh track, forget about it. I know most of the shows that were popular when I was a kid all had laugh tracks - MASH, Happy Days, Threes Company - so maybe I just over did it, because now I can't stand the laugh track. So I gravitate towards watching the Food Network, because I love to eat, and almost anything on HBO. One of my favorite shows the past few years has been Big Love. That's the one about the polygamists in Utah. When I first started watching it I would tell people about it and they would be like, ewwwww, that sounds so WEIRD! Now of course it's all the rage. Everyone is talking about polygamy, it's in the news right here in British Columbia where we have our own controversial little polygamist community, and then there's a new reality show called Sister Wives, which I would swear was the basis for the fictional Big Love. Anyhoo, weird or not, I find the whole concept and hence the TV show quite fascinating, albeit in a kind of creepy morbid way, like when you drive by a car accident and you don't want to look but you just HAVE to look...
It's just not possible to watch the show without stirring up a discussion. Aside from all the religious hoopla about how God said that basically they'll go to hell if they don't engage in plural marriage (whew, the things men will say to get laid, I tell ya) what would it be like to actually have several wives if you were a man? Or share one man with a group of other wives? I have to say I like the concept of the built in daycare system - one wife goes to work, another stays home and takes care of all the kids - and I don't mind the idea of having my bedroom all to myself at least a couple nights a week. But come on. Ultimately it's just begging for trouble. I bet they have some amazing knock down drag 'em out fights, some serious hair pulling if you know what I mean. Eventually someone would have to rebel.
And really, why the hell would you want to share your husband? If you're going to go to the bother of being married, at least be married to someone who can practice enough self control to just be with you. Isn't that the point? Otherwise you might as well stay single. Aside from the daycare set up, I really can't see the difference. It seems to me it's just the man's way of saying okay, now you're mine, you can't see anyone else. If you were single, you would be free to date other people if you wanted to. Just like he is, as long as he's "married" to them, that is. It's a win win sweet set up for the men in that society.
I think the name of the show should be changed from Big Love to Big Ego. Because that's what those men have, egos the size of a small planet, in order for them to set themselves up with multiple wives and multiple children in their own little kingdom.
Whew. It's too early for this much drama. I think I need to go watch something on the Food Network now...

Valentines Day

What is the deal with Valentines Day? I mean, really. We hate it when we're single, and we almost hate it more when we're attached. There's just so much pressure to perform. Okay okay, I wasn't exactly thinking of sex, although I guess there's that too! More specifically, the pressure to come up with the perfect gift, the most romantic moment, the gushiest card, you get the picture. I tend to be more of a practical person than a romantic, and so how can I complain when my husband knows me well enough to make sure my gifts reflect that sometimes? Case in point. My thoughtful husband presented me with a lovely gift yesterday, a snazzy little make up bag that was full of expensive hair care products. I thought it was really nice, especially since I do struggle with my hair, and was impressed that he had thought of such a gift that was all about pampering myself. I was looking forward to trying out my new shampoos etc today, and once the kids were all at school and I had some just for me shower time set aside, I opened the cute little bag and started to examine the hair products. Hmmmm. Yes, they were expensive, and yes, they were a designer brand, but it also turns out they are designed specifically for aging, dull, lifeless hair. I might have been offended except that I realized I couldn't make out what the labels said without putting on my reading glasses....
So in the end, as I sit here with glowing bouncy hair I have to admit his gift was a winner, and remember that a ton of single women out there would give their left boob for such attention. As for me, I  presented him with a sushi cook book and a request for dinner, thus transforming my gift to him into a gift for myself.Actually now that I think about it, I suppose my little shampoo kit was kind of the same thing for him too....

the shoe fairy

Sometimes I really do think I am on the verge of completely losing my mind. Perhaps it's just sleep deprivation. Last night I was woken first by my daughter Emily standing over me exclaiming "MOM!" and  I struggled up from sleep saying "WHAT?" and Em said "I LOST MY TOOTH!"  At moments like this it is critical to somehow find a way to stay rational, or become rational when you are still more than half asleep and your heart is pounding, so that you respond in an appropriate mommy-ish manner. So instead of batting her away and mumbling something like oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack, please go back to bed and leave me alone, I managed to sit up, take some deep breaths and say oh honey, that's great, where IS your tooth? and stumble off into the darkness with her to stow said tooth away safely for the tooth fairy, and dab up the blood that is still oozing from her little mouth, and stagger back to bed again. I even managed to think clearly enough to convince her to wrap up the tooth and leave it upstairs with me, rather than let her take it back down to stuff into her tooth pillow that she keeps for these occasions. I eventually coaxed myself back to sleep, only to be woken by the telephone ringing around 4am, oh dear god, you know that's not a good thing. As I leap up and stumble off through the dark house in search of a phone, in the midst of my second heart attack of the night, my only conscious thought is oh my god, either someone just died or it's one of those dreadful wrong number long distance phone calls from India that we get periodically and I am going to have to spend 20 minutes trying to explain to someone that the person they are looking for really doesn't live in my house, so they don't call back again the next night. Anyway, I find a phone, say "HELLO???" and hold my breath. It's my father in law OH SHIT, who's dead, who is it??? and after he asks to speak to Mike I ask WHAT'S UP as casually as I can and he replies that they have a work emergency at a building he needs to ask about, and I am already starting to shut down again as I hand the phone over.
Anyway. Somehow I manage to get some more sleep, and wake up in time to realize that my husband is already up and gone, it's time to get the kids moving, it's Valentine's Day, AND I still have to remember a certain tooth fairy task. I head downstairs and remember, oh my god, did I put a Valentine in each of the kid's Valentine bags that my daughter Kate had cleverly thought to make, hoping to ensure some kind of loot for them on Valentine's morning?? My god, I did. I had gone to bed and then suddenly recalled those bags sitting by the fireplace (I guess we hang Xmas stockings by the fireplace, so Kate must have figured it was a safe bet to put her V Day bags near it too) and I had gone downstairs in the dark and cut out 3 pink hearts and written them each a message and stuffed it in their bags with...what? "Wagonwheels??" "We got Wagonwheels for Valentine's Day??" came the puzzled comments from the living room. Okay, give me a break, it was late, I was tired, and it was the only form of chocolate I could find at that hour.
So the girls mentioned that Em had lost her tooth, and I said, oh yeah, I completely forgot, why don't you run upstairs and get it from my room and put it away safe for the tooth fairy to find tonight? And off she went, and moments later she returned shrieking that her tooth was already gone and there was money in the little wad of toilet paper instead. She didn't even seem to notice that the tooth fairy had left an odd assortment of spare change rather than the usual tidy one dollar coin. :)
Feeling pretty with it we got through the rest of the morning routine fairly unscathed, and then it all fell apart. Em couldn't find one of her shoes. This is a many times a day event in our house - nobody but me ever puts their shoes away when they take them off, which would just be messy except that every time someone comes into the house our dog gets all excited and grabs the nearest shoe and runs off with it...So I lost my temper, yelled at the dog who of course had no idea what he'd done, yelled at my messy house, yelled at the girls to just get in the car, yelled at my husband for not putting the car seats back properly yesterday after he hauled a bunch of empties to the bottle depot, yelled at the god damn shoe fairy for taking a shoe as well as a tooth and sent Em off to school in her rain boots. At least they matched.
On a side note, after I got home, took some more deep breaths, had some coffee, I discovered the missing shoe stuffed half under the corner of the fridge, and in an attempt to redeem myself as a good mother I drove the pair of shoes to the school and deposited them in Emily's cubby outside her classroom. And people wonder what I do with my time....

Car vs car

Yesterday I took our little Audi to the glass shop to get the windshield replaced. At some point it got a crack that just kept expanding, so it was definitely time. Plus, we have decided to sell it. We bought it when I went back to work so we would have 2 vehicles to transport the kids in since I worked a lot of crazy hours, and my husband's work van doesn't accept passengers. Since then, I not only have quit work, but my husband bought yet another car, so we really really don't need this many vehicles. Sadly, it is my sweet little ride that is going to go, not the most recent addition to parking lot that is my driveway. Basically because of the two, the Audi will garner us the most money. Which means that it looks like I am stuck with the worlds ugliest car parked in front of my house. Sorry Mike, but come on, it's soooo true. We're talking about a 1975 Cadillac Sedan de Ville that's about 5 million feet long (really) and smells like someone died in it. Even with the 25 little tree air fresheners that I bought it for Christmas. Speaking of which, I really tried to give it a chance at Christmas, figured I was being too hard on it, so I not only bought it air fresheners, but also some nice fuzzy dice to hang from the mirror, and a sweet hula girl to jiggle on the dash. And then when we were going to my inlaws house for Christmas dinner, I sucked it up and accepted a ride in the Beast for the very first time. My husband was so proud, pulling up in front of his parents place, with all his extended family looking on from the living room window. It was a great moment, right up until the engine suddenly revved up really high, and a huge cloud of smoke came billowing out from underneath it, and we all evacuated in a hurry, coughing and laughing all the way to the front door. Well, all of us except Mike of course. Sorry big guy! Now I just always think of Uncle Buck's car every time I look at it. Which is every day, since it is parked blocking one of the main entrances to our house. There used to be a nice rhododendron, an azalea, and a maple tree among other living things planted in that spot - but yes, he paved paradise and put up a parking lot.....but I realize that some battles just aren't meant to be won. By me at least. Because for now, it is my husbands pride and joy, and really, I tell myself, there are worse things for him to be obsessed with. Besides, I get a sick sort of pleasure from it myself, just in the making fun of it. It must satisfy some inner need I have to pick on something, even it's just a big old butt ugly car that smells like a corpse with dirty socks on. Just as long as I don't have to ride in it - by now it must know I hate it, and I start to imagine that it will turn all Christine on me, and it will try to trick me into going for a ride, and that will be it, I will never be seen or heard from again, just another one of it's many victims....hence that evil smell!
So for now I will be patient, and hope that eventually something else will come along to replace the Beast in my husband's heart.  And only accept rides from my minivan.

daycare - what do you think?

How much are your kids worth to you? Can you put a monetary value on them? I'm sure the vast majority of parents would be horrified at my question and reply with a resounding NO, and go on to say that their children are priceless, etc etc. So what's my point? Submit a quote for daycare to many of these same parents and watch them flip out at the cost.
I myself have been on both sides of that fence. I have worked in licensed daycare facilities, provided daycare in my home to other people's children, and have been a working mother taking my own children to a daycare. Having seen daycare in action from both points of view, I fully realize how important it is to have your children in a daycare environment that both you and your children are happy with. And sometimes that means paying a little more, or driving a little further, or whatever.
Consider this. Most dog owners at some time or another take their dogs to a kennel, say when they go on vacation. The average kennel charges anywhere from $20 to $30 on average per night for your dogs stay, plus you often have to provide your dog's food. The average daycare charges about the same per day for each child. Does that seem right? Daycare providers have sole care of your child, are completely responsible for their welfare. I guess kennel operators also have the same accountability for your dog, but really, is it comparable? We're talking about your CHILDREN.
Daycare providers in general do not get the respect that they deserve for the extremely important service that they provide for our society. Perhaps that is because nearly all daycare is provided by women, and it reflects the way society seems to still view the homemaker/mother/care provider role as secondary, or not as important. Basically, I guess what I'm saying is that daycare is not VALUED in the way that I believe it should be.
I am talking in generalities here, I do know plenty of folks who treat their daycare providers with respect, and are obviously grateful for the service they provide, and how well many of them do provide it.

What do you think?

what's it worth?

We are lucky enough to have a good sized room in our basement that the kids use as a playroom. Actually what seems to happen is that the playroom spills over into the rest of the rooms in the basement, because the girls apparently regard the entire bottom floor as their zone. I wouldn't really have any problem with that, except that they never clean up after themselves. Slowly but surely (and sometimes not so slowly) the entire basement is transformed into a something resembling a home that has just barely survived some natural disaster like an earthquake or a tornado. Now I know that although I'm not down there actually making the mess, I still have to share the blame for it with my girls. Number one - I don't remember to enforce a clean up at the end of the day/play period a lot of the time. Number two - I encourage my kids to just go and play without my participation being necessary. Isn't that the whole point of having a big basement for the kids to play in? So play they do, and play hard. They are very into making stuff out of something else, so there is always a lot of cutting, gluing, painting, colouring etc going on, as well as a lot of fort building which necessitates dismantling all of the furniture and draping of sheets and blankets. And I think that's great. Except for that moment when I venture down at the end of the day to make sure the door is locked or get something from the freezer, and I enter the wreckage of that days activities. Because I know that I have let it go too far, and now when I ask them to clean up, they will take one look at what they've done, and be totally overwhelmed by the task at hand, and much wailing and protesting and dividing up of who actually messed up what will ensue.
So. I spent the weekend telling them to clean up, or there would be no play dates for any of them for a month. I thought that would be pretty good incentive to get them moving, as they love having friends over and vice versa. No dice. By Sunday, I threw in a monetary bribe, offering a dollar to anyone who cleaned up, providing the whole area was cleaned, not just what that particular person deemed "their" share of the mess. They lollygagged around all weekend, procrastinating until Monday rolled around and the mess had only deepened. I couldn't believe they wouldn't even do it for the money. So after school Monday I announced that until the basement was cleaned up, there would be no play dates for a month, no allowance of any kind, and no TV for a full week, which would include all of the coming weekend. Talk about pulling out the big guns.I went upstairs and let them work that one out. I don't think my kids watch a huge amount of TV, some in the evening sometimes, but usually very little during the week. But apparently that was the deal breaker. After a just a few minutes of frantic discussion, up they came to let me know they were ready to clean. I handed out garbage bags and helped them break the job up into separate tasks - one person in charge of toys, one for books, one for craft items and so on, and then I set up my ipod on the portable stereo for them and cranked it up and left them to it. And they cleaned. By the end of the evening it was done, and although it needs some tweaking, it looks about a million times better. Now I have to keep up my end and be the daily clean up enforcer so we don't have to go through this all again next week....

The Corrections

So I just finished reading The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. One of those darkly humorous books about what would appear to be a run of the mill midwest family on the outside, but then goes into lovely gorey details of how totally not run of the mill each family member is, and of course the family as a whole. The kind of book that makes me go, ahhh, I am not so weird after all, and geez, my family is doing okay. Except that at the same time, I kind of had the feeling that we are all just one wrong turn away from actually being the family in the story, or dangerously close neighbors anyway. Yikes.

the new dishwasher is here! the new dishwasher is here!

Yeah, I feel like Steve Martin in "The Jerk" when he realizes the new phone books have arrived, I am THAT jazzed. After a month of doing without, my new dishwasher will be arriving sometime tomorrow. When the old one died and my husband ordered the new one, I tried to be totally cool when he revealed that it was not available for a month. I thought, oh come on, my mother didn't grow up with a dishwasher, and my grandmother certainly didn't, and they managed, I will not be a modern woman and whine about doing a few dishes.

After a month of doing dishes after every meal for a family of five, all I can say is OH MY GOD I MISS MY DISHWASHER!!!!!! If for nothing else but the way you can hide the dirty dishes away, instead of having them pile up on the counter by the sink, by the oven, by the coffee maker, basically everywhere, because we like to cook, and a family of five plus a big meal equals one hell of a lot of dirty dishes. For a month I have been running after the kids "Hey you! What do you think you're doing?? Didn't you just have a drink of water a little while ago?? Use the same cup please!!!!" I purred with pleasure when my husband pulled out a stack of paper plates on Friday night to go with the pizza we had ordered....I am so pathetically easy to please. When the phone rang this morning and the delivery man asked if they could come tomorrow, I practically screamed YES YES YES! and did a happy dance right there in the kitchen, once again confirming to my kids that I am more than a little nuts. So okay, sorry Granny, I AM a modern woman, god help me, but seriously, if my Granny or any of those housewives had been given the chance to own a dishwasher, they would totally have jumped all over it. Unless they were COMPLETELY mental, and then sorry but I just have no sympathy for that.

So WOOHOO to tomorrow, and the arrival of my new favorite large appliance. Well, kitchen appliance anyway. I don't even want to get started on what my mental condition would be if my washer/dryer were to croak on me. Although at least there are such things as laundromats, so I wouldn't be forced to go down to the river and hand wash my undies with rocks or anything. Ha.

Canine karma

Keep calm and carry on. A great mantra to repeat and live by, right? Massively challenging for a big mouth, temper losing control freak like me however. But I continue to struggle to meet this challenge, hoping that the day will come that I will achieve both inner and outer serenity and all who know me will be able to say, wow, she is just so soothing to be around. Okay, okay, I can hear you all saying, hey Lis, maybe don't set your goals too high, right? Baby steps, baby steps. So after blowing my top at my brother and sister in law this weekend, I am out to redeem myself, if only to myself, and challenge myself to keep it all together when things don't quite go my way.

Fantastic opportunity to put myself to the test arrives Tuesday when what should be a straightforward trip to the vet with my golden retriever goes awry. To say my dog is a big baby is a massive understatement. Basically he is a 100 pound cowering whimpering lap dog. He has this amazing super power of being able to shed virtually all of his hair at once, onto me when he starts to have a panic attack. Which he does upon arrival at the vet's office. I speak in soothing tones, comforting him, telling him (and myself) that it's just a quick visit and we'll be on our way home soon. Dr. Natasha (yes, she has a heavy Russian accent for real!) gets things underway, and it's all going quite well, when a tech suddenly enters the room and tells Dr. N. that she is needed right away. Dr. N apologizes and explains that she has to go deal with an "emergency guinea pig situation", but she'll be right back. Hmm. So Xander (that's my dog) and I wait for several minutes, and finally Dr. N. returns, but moments later the tech is back exclaiming that the guinea pig is in distress, and Dr N grabs a teeny tiny stethoscope and rushes off again. This time we wait even longer, and I can feel my old friend big ugly impatient red temper tantrum starting to stir. I mean, come on, someone could at least let us know what's going on, or send us home, or something. But I take a breath, and wave him off, no easy feat as I am working hard to keep Xander's panic attack from turning into a full blown heart attack, oh my god, that's all my vet needs. At some point another tech brings him some water, and offers me a coffee, leading me to believe the vet is not coming back any time soon. But I tell myself - and Xander - that it's fine, we have no where else we have to be right away, and imagine the trauma room scene playing out nearby. Do they have teeny tiny little paddles fired up, is someone yelling "clear!" while a tearful family looks on from behind the team of medics? Pay it forward, I tell myself, be a thoughtful patient person, because I would expect the same priority treatment if my pet was in dire straits. I strove to communicate this to my dog, and felt him start to calm down - easily done as at this point he was actually lying on top of me, as much of himself as he could get into my lap anyway, so I could get a pretty good read on how fast his heart was beating etc.

Anyway, eventually the vet came back, pronounced my dog to be in great health, finished our check up without further disruption and we headed to the desk to pay the bill, feeling really good about how we had both managed to keep it together over the past hour. And then it happened - a true moment of cosmic karma payback, a tangible reward for our most excellent behaviour. As the receptionist handed me the bill, she smiled and told me that as a thank you for our patience they were throwing in a FREE fecal test for Xander. Woohoo! I smiled right back and said "right on!" Can you imagine my excitement?  I could hardly wait to rush out and gather that sample to bring in.  My healthy dog and I headed home proudly with our fecal sample gathering kit glowing like the trophy that it is.

But seriously, while it may not seem like much of a reward for maintaining my cool, I'll take what I can get. Count your blessings and all that.  Because in the end, I never did find out what happened to that guinea pig....

cleaning house

So.....it's been awhile. Remember that cold etc that I had last fall? Well, it turned out to be pneumonia and a  sinus infection, and the combo of the two laid me out for pretty much the rest of the year.

Nuff said. It's January, and I am more or less back in action - being super sick was fabulous for weight loss, although I admit to getting carried away and ate most of it back over the holidays, oh well.

Another thing being super sick did for me was what it seems to do for many folks - made me appreciate my good health when it started to return. I want to hang on to that feeling. I want to take better care of myself, without living in fear of becoming unwell again. I want to live more in the now, and still protect myself for the future.

How exactly do I do this? Well, in New Year's resolution fashion, I have set out a plan to clear away anything in my life and my home that isn't working. I'm talking anything from relationships to hairdryers. If  it's busted, it's outa here. If I can fix it with a minimum of energy and/or cost expended, then okay, it can stay. But otherwise, it will be purged from my world. It's about cleansing my life, and myself. Reducing the wear and tear on my existence, clearing the path of my journey, whatever. Too many apps running wears out the battery, so to speak. Or something like that.

And hopefully while I am cleaning out the closets, I will manage to clean out my mind and my soul a little too. See myself more clearly once the clutter of life up till now is sorted out and put to rest. If organizing your home can make it run more efficiently, enable you to find what you want, and  allow you to have space for the things you enjoy, then I'm hoping the same principle can be applied to my life, for my self.

I will keep you posted!