Pantsless Saturday (Fail)

So, in case anyone was wondering- I've gone back to work. I get up really early, run my ass off and deal with stupid people, drive home, sometimes I eat, and if I'm lucky, I can stay awake til about 8pm. Then I get up really early and do it all over again. It's bloody crazy making. I have learned one thing though (well, I forgot that I knew)- the craziness of having a job outside of the home is very very different from having one in the home. When you work outside the home, you get to LEAVE at the end of the day. Leave the noise, leave the repetitive mindnumbing tasks, leave the hormonally impaired co-workers, and go do the life thing.

Another thing I've learned, is that staying home with all the everyone's children really was making me totally freaking insane. Of course, I realised before this that they were "driving me nuts", but "that's what kids do", and "it'll be nice to take a break". No, no break- I had to STOP and do something else.

One of my best friends has moved in with her daughter to take over the childcare. It's really great- my little guy has someone here when he gets home from school, and the other wee heathens don't really have to change their routine. Anyway, the other kids are still in the house when I get home, for about an hour. It took about 2 days before I figured it out. Just looking at them.... my vision starts to get fuzzy.... my eye starts to twitch.... it's all I can do not to turn around and run out the door. Baahhahahahahah. (To my best wifey, I love you and I'd never do you that way).

A couple weeks ago it was decided that everyone would leave town this weekend.... everyone but me.... I was so excited to have the house to myself for the weekend! No kids, no husband.... Just me and the hedgehog. Awesome. I blew off all my friends- told them it was Pantsless Saturday at my place and they were NOT invited. A party for one.

I'm still in my PJ's. I haven't left the house today. I drank all the Baileys. I watched 5 hrs of PVR'd House episodes. I did a zillion loads of laundry. Now it's 9:00, and I'm out of booze, and listening to my favorite song on repeat, and dammit, I'm lonely. 


So much for that.

Quality Time

And the merits of travelling with people who "get" you...

"My, what a huge lightsaber you have there"

I just returned from 11 days away with my family. 11 long, busy, totally overstimulating, intense, frustrating days of "FUN". Hey, I'm fun, I can have a good time, I'm actually one of the most fun people I know. Ask my friends! But I'm also a bit of a spaz. Add a group of non-smokers, a bunch of NOISE, some crowds and a tight schedule, and I become less and less fun as the day wears on. And ultimately, I end up feeling like (and acting like) a total jerk because I can't handle the over-stimulation and excitement, and ruin it for everyone else.

So glad we could make it- The fireworks at the end of the first day.

Disneyland was huge. It was noisy, it was crowded, it was spectacular, and I wish I had MORE time to spend there. (5 days wasn't nearly enough). I wish I had gone with more people, it would have helped spread the spaz out. As it was, we hurried through the nicely designed cattle chutes, from one attraction to the next, and often, my husband forgot to make time for us to sit down and EAT. Lunch was always after the next ride, the next show, just after this or that. He was SOOO excited the first day that more than once, he forgot to check whether we were even behind him before taking off into the crowd on his way to the next thing.

I get it, it's freaking DISNEYLAND- I was supposed to be shaking and weeping with awe and anticipation at the gates. My husband and his family have been there like 5 times, and he's brought previous girlfriends, and they've all been trembling and wide eyed and bubbling with joy. Yep, I had to ruin the streak didn't I? I wanted to cry, but not like that. I wanted to tear off all my skin in the middle of Main Street USA and scream and scream and scream.

Top down, tunes cranked, can't talk- choking on the wind in the back 

 It was fun to see my husband get that excited about, well, anything. I loved the look on our son's face when we got there. But my favorite moments were the ones in between everything. The stop and smell the roses kind; watching the fireworks, cruising the freeway with the top down and the music loud. My first decent cup of coffee in 4 days... Our shortest excursion was Lego Land, and we put the 8 year old in charge, we slowed right down.

 Once in awhile, I forgot myself and relaxed. Whatever remains of my inner child broke through and I just had a good time. My son and I did Star Tours like 10 times, and my husband and I rode Space Mountain over and over and over again. We got to see my FAVORITE sister get married in Palm Springs, it was beautiful, and we had a chance to reconnect with some long lost loved ones.

Yes, it was the moments in between all the excitement and the madness- those were the most fun for me. Maybe next time I'll go by myself?

'But it's the pelvic thrust, that really drives you insa-a-aane"

Appropriate Enthusiasm

 These are The Dads

Of the hundreds of pictures I have on my computer, and on my phone, there are pitifully few pictures of The Dads. And of those few, most of them are taken while they're doing stuff like WORKING. You know, "Dad Stuff". Real dad stuff. In a perfect world, Dad Stuff would be bike riding and fishing and building bird houses all the time, but this world isn't perfect. 

I have always believed that there isn't a Dad in the world that's truly fit to be a Mother. And it's true. They prove it time and again. Oh sure, they can keep a kid alive for as long as they need to- feeding, bathing, homework, piano practice... But the stuff they do best, really, is the Dad Stuff. 

Dads are there to field all the crap that overflows our plates. "How does a compass work", "I have to build a volcano for school...by tomorrow", "The chain came off my bike", "Why does Grandma make that sound when she's sleeping".... These are the things that Dad's are supposed to be for. "Go ask your father" (or your uncle Jim, Chris, Sam, Aaron....)

And then I think about all the moms out there who don't have anyone to farm that stuff out to. And that makes me sad. And that makes me appreciate what we've got all the more.

I'm so thankful for all the Moms in my life. There's no way I'd be able to manage without them. But I have to remember to thank all the Dads- without them, (we'd be poor) there would be no last minute lampshade volcanos, a bunch of broken bikes, and I'd have to figure out how stuff works so I could explain it.

So, thanks guys. We love you.

So Long and Thanks for Taking Leftovers- or, "Whaddya MEAN you don't like PIE?"

I didn't take one single picture. FACK. I had 27 people for Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday...I FED 27 people! Yes, I farmed out a great deal of the extra work, the brusselsprouts, the rolls, the potatos, the rice but I cooked a gigantic turkey, and some more sides... It was awesome. I LOVE FEEDING PEOPLE! I love being able to fill my house to bursting with friends and family and loved ones. I love the chaos and the sounds of laughter and mess. And when you have good friends, the laughter carries on while the mess begins to dissipate at the end of the meal. By the time everyone was either gone, or settled in for the drinking and shenanigans, there was no evidence that nearly 30 people had just overrun the place. Just a bit of a mess. It was a total win. So this is me giving my self a gold star, and a great deal of thanks for all the totally terrific people who are a part of my life.

To all you Canucks out there, Happy Belated Thanksgiving- and to my Southern friends, I hope yours will be as awesome as mine.

So darkness I became.

Taken from my back porch about 2 weeks ago at 6:57 am- this was just a tiny glimpse of a stunning sunrise. Now, only a few days difference, we're beginning the descent into the forever darkness of winter. The curse of the Northern Life. We will have a small respite when the time changes, but in the meantime, our daylight hours are dwindling. Under 12 total hours today, and come December 20, we will be shrouded in blackness with a meagre 6h 45m of actual daylight. Get up in the dark, come home in the dark. The kids get a bit of a break- At school, they kick them out for recess and lunch (provided it's not colder than -20).

But woe to the solar powered beings! Stumbling around in the dark, it's often hard to be sure I'm actually awake; that my day is really supposed to begin, when the Sun itself can't be bothered to hoist itself above the horizon. And when it does, it grumbles and casts a pitiful weak light- no warmth, just a thin, watery imitation of it's summer splendour.

So for now, we will have to soak up what we can. And take pictures to remind us that "this too shall pass".

(ugh).

We Are Wive. Resistance is Futile.

Tell us... how do we like our new outfit?

OK, to hell with the Super Mom. I believe it takes a community to parent a child, and in my life- my circle of family and friends- I have that. We practice that. The Mom is/are an unstoppable collective and as one, we can wrangle all the little ones with a skill and savvy that make all the lonely little supermoms out there look like bums. Oh yeah, we're that good. There are some things that I genuinely HATE doing with the kids, but there's always another one of us who loves it. And I get to be the go-to for some things that the other mom's cant/don't want to do. No matter the matter, there is always someone to pick up the slack. We ROCK the community parenting.

But if the community parenting model is such a hit, why can't we extend that... to the HUSBANDS? Oh I'm not talking about swinging and swapping; I'm talking about "My old man SUCKS at this, can I borrow yours?". See, most men seem to have about 4 out of 10 critical skills and the willingness to exercise them at any given point. And for the right motivation, (usually cookies or appropriate enthusiasm), will whip out those "skills" and blow all the OTHER women away with their magnificence. See... the OTHER women. Some of my Wive Hive, myself included have husbands that are exceptionally awesome at (nearly) everything... if we could just get them to DO anything at all other than take up space and antagonize us.

And that antagonism and atrophy of skills is what's killing the machine here. Some of you might have one of those rare beasts in captivity- the ones that always pick up after themselves, like to get up in the middle of the night  and hold vomit buckets under children... But most of us are stuck with the guys that are tired of our nagging and honey-do lists, and will go over to another Wive and spend the day showing off and being awesome. I'm stuck with one of them myself. You can have him. He can build stuff, he's very strong, and he makes killer waffles. Give me yours if he can hang pictures, help start the garden and knows how to load a dishwasher? We can trade back when they tire of all our baked goods and flattery!

I Am Not Having This Conversation With You

I had this great post all ready to go about the conversational minefield I have to navigate in my relationship... All the things we can't discuss without fighting. Then I remembered I told someone recently that "I complain too much". And I do. But I'm not in the mood to dig through my bitter basket for nice things to say either. So I won't.

I have many people and things to be grateful for in my life. So I should just do like I always have and suck it up and reload the goddamn toilet paper.

I guess this is why we don't have hobbies?

I woke up this last Sunday completely overwhelmed by an urge to ESCAPE my life for a day. By 11am, I had bailed on my husband and son to go to church (yeah, I do that sometimes) and see my friend play in the band (yayforgeeks). With 5 minutes left of the closing set at the end of the service, I get this 911 text from another friend; They had been camping at the lake- "we need help! We SANK THE BOAT". 

After 2 stops for some tow straps and shackles, some pumps and hoses and an extra body, we arrived at the lake to see what  could be done.

"Oh dear, well, that doesn't look sooo bad..."

"Wait- yes it does... that's BAD"

Amidst all the chaos and panic, we had SPECTATORS! YAY! ; the guy on the left is the conservation officer (this is in a Provincial Park). The handsome fella there in the middle was just a random jackass (one of many that day) who thought his $19.99 Internet Degree in Applied Engineering might come in handy. He was helpful in a way- if you stood behind him, he could block the wind and spray (but the glare off his fat bald head totally ruined the view).

The pump would have worked REALLY WELL... except every 7-8 waves, 3 more would come over the board and fill the whole boat in 15 seconds. It still helped some... until they sucked up a shirt.

Plans "A" thru "M" were scrapped around the 3 hour mark.

Plan "N-2" was a dual attack- start backing the trailer under the boat WHILE winching the boat onto the trailer (yes, this sounds pretty normal, except there were also several hundred gallons of water IN the boat and it was sunk right into the silt and mud and crap at the bottom- it wasn't prepared to budge)  At this point, our buddy had pretty much given up on the damage control and just wanted the boat out of the water. It mostly worked, pretty much mostly...

 After several attempts at repositioning the trailer so we could drag everything out without taking half the dock...  

Oh, THAT'S what all that crunching and snapping was... 

WE'RE OUT! (and random jackass on the right)

It took about 6 hours, not counting all the time our buddy spent before we arrived breaking winches and stuff trying to do it on his own. 

I was so tired! All that watching and standing and heckling... (I got to carry some stuff and at one point even operated a roll of tape!) I didn't even think to take a picture of the carnage inside the boat once all the water was out. But that was just plain SAD to see. 

By the time we dropped everything off and collected my van from where I left it, it was almost 11pm. 12 and a half hours earlier, I was just thinking I would rather stab myself in the face than spend the day at home! Imagine that! Thanks Russ! And I'm REALLY sorry about your boat!

Where the Cat is Not (pic heavy)

This is Mister Chevchev. 

Mister Chevchev is a seriously cool cat. Like, actually, the most Chill Beast I've ever had the pleasure of having around. He came to stay with us and brought his human companions; my brother, his wife, and their daughter for a few months. And these are some of his little adventures.

Now, normally, we don't get to have Kitties. I have allergies, and my husband has The Hatred, and ultimately,  I've discovered I'm not that fond of cats in general... But this guy was so laid back that most of the time, you'd never know he was there- in fact, he was actually everywhere- sometimes even in more than one place at a time! We took to calling him "Transdimentional Kitty". My Facebook Friends know him best as "Where the Cat is Not"; the first time he was busted somewhere strange I had said "Now, I don't have a cat, and if I did have a cat, he wouldn't be there" and that's where it all started.

(click on the "read more" link to see all the awesome pics)

Chaos, Panic and Disorder... My Work Here is Done

The Scouts leaders called a parent meeting this week. Apparently they had some major issues last year, not the least of which being, the overwhelming lack of control they had over the group. Too many kids, not enough leaders, and a bunch of Idiot Parents made for disaster. I seem to have committed myself to sticking around during meetings this year to act as an extra body. Though, thinking further on the matter, I probably should just have myself committed.

Fix it 'til it's Broke

My son has NO sense of humour. Does not get sarcasm. Does not recognize non verbal cues. Does not get that from me. He's neurotic, hypersensitive, and emotionally fragile (he's also incredibly compassionate, straightforward and sincere). Really the only thing wrong with him is his mother. Yep, it's all my fault. Case in point; the Potato Aversion.

Mom- "Ew! Gah! you've got bloody potatoes in your ears! That's nasty! Here, hold still dammit."
Son-  "Owww! stop that! No it feels funny! I am holding still"

Ok, this seems pretty simple. Dirty ears to clean ears.... This goes on til he's like 4. I call them "ear potatoes" and he runs away every time he sees me coming with a q-tip.

My mom asked at some point, "Gee, he sure eats good- but what's his thing with Potatoes?".

Oh, yeah, he wouldn't eat potatoes of ANY kind. Not mashed, not boiled, not fried... Then she overheard the Ear Potato Drama one day and thinks to ask him. "Hey kid, why don't you like to eat potatoes?" To which the 4 year old replied "I don't want to eat things that come out of people's ears".

This is what happens to only children. Especially boys I think. My mother once told me there was no difference between having 1, 2, or 7 children. A mother can only give 100% of her time- period- therefore 2 children cannot take more than 100%. The flaw in that system, is that no one child can withstand 100% of a mother's attention. It's just not healthy or constructive. I don't have any other children to divert my compulsive need to shape and mould a personality. Maybe that's part of the reason I ended up filling the house with other people's kids- a distraction of sorts. I'm so bent on creating this well adjusted, productive, good looking, intelligent, capable...member of society, that I may be warping him beyond all hope.

I want so badly for him to turn out better than me, better than his father, better than the other male examples I had to go on as a child. "Thou Shalt Not Wear Stained Sweat Pants Beyond the Front Door", "Thou Shalt Learn To Properly Load A Dishwasher", "Thou Shalt Not Speak Unkindly to Thine Lady Friends"... (thou shalt surrender the remote control, the last bite of chocolate...) Every fatal flaw in the men I have known in my life MUST be eradicated. Every personality glitch I have suffered to hold me back in my own experience, must be stamped out. It's like I have ONE shot to leave something better behind in the world, and once in awhile I wonder- what I should be leaving, is "well enough" the hell alone!

The fastest way to hate what you do...

(is to do it 9 hrs a day, five days a week with no end in sight)

I am blessed. BLESSED!

 I remember my son's first day of preschool. I looked on with a mixture of relief, and total terror, as he ran into the room and started playing without once looking back. Not once did he cling to me, or make a fuss for the teachers because I wasn't there. He was ready. I was ready....sort of... I was fortunate-due to a series of unfortunate circumstances- in that I was able to spend the first 3 years of my little boy's life at home with him. I was there from the moment he woke up in the morning, to his final sigh of sleep at night. I was there for every meal, every bath, every play-date. I took him everywhere I went; grocery shopping, visiting, banking... 24/7, 365, I was a full time, hands on, Mom.

 Oh dear god, was I ever ready to go back to work! That next year blew by so fast. I was in school in the mornings, and working in the evenings, with a few blissful hours in the afternoon to rub together ALL to myself! Dinner hit the table and I was out the door. DH was in charge of bathing and bedtime and all I had to do was get up an hour and a half earlier in the mornings to fix breakfast and lunches before the boys got up. Part time school, part time job, part time Mom.

I look back at that time in my life with warm fuzzies. That blissful year where I got to be a little of everything, and it seemed like just enough for it all. I don't remember being pulled or stretched outside of my comfort zone, nobody demanded in excess of what I was able to give. I had a social life, my husband and little boy were happy (well, my husband has never been happy, but he didn't complain SO much), I felt useful and on my game. Then I had the BEST IDEA EVER....

And follows the worst year in my recent history. But that's for another post- I don't want to get myself riled up this early. At the end of that, there came a day where I was forced to choose between my full time job, and the needs of my family (the non-monetary needs that is)...The decision was pretty easy- by then, the stresses of full time work and trying to full time parent were driving me off the deep-end. Both endeavours were suffering my divided attention, and I wasn't happy with the results. I quit my job at the same time we moved into our new home, and got the bright idea that I should take on everyone else's kids.

At once, the most rewarding and the most crazy-making task I've ever taken on; there were days that I had 8 children to get ready for school, take to the bus, pick up, feed and entertain. Countless hours, countless loads of dishes and laundry, band aids, rolls of toilet paper, tears, boogers, fights... On my current resume, I have listed "Dayhome Operator", and lists most of these things and finishes with "and other responsibilities, including but not limited to helping with loose teeth". No kidding.

It's time again though to move on. I have decided to go back to "work". (I say this as though the last two years have been a vacation! HA-HA!) I look on this new horizon with the same mixture of terror and relief as the first time. What about MY KIDS? Will they run in to a new house with a new caregiver and carry on as though they've always been there? Will they look back to see if I'm there? Will the next person know who won't eat broccoli and who needs their apples peeled? Will they be too squeamish to pull a wiggly tooth? These kids are almost as much my own as, well, my own. I've done all I can to ensure the transition will go smoothly. Most of them will still be coming HERE, but to a different grown-up while I'm at work.

 At work! Where everyone can get their own damn juice.

Feel like crap?

ah, what you need is THE MEDICATION!

The Medication can make you more like the someone everyone expects you to be! Are you tired, worried, stressed, sore and/or lethargic? Do you sometimes have thoughts of using pointy objects to harm yourself or those around you? The Medication may just be the medicine for you!

Studies show that people who take The Medication in conjunction with other non-specified-self administered treatments, may start to feel and behave differently, this is a sign that The Medication is working! People close to you may notice that you are "Not yourself" or "Acting strange", and is also a sign that you're underlying "you-ness" is being suppressed, and that  The Medication is doing it's job.

Some moderate to severe side effects have been reported, including but not limited to; headache, dry mouth, loss of appetite, significant changes in weight, monobrow, insomnia, excessive sweating, changes in libido, tinnitus( ringing in ears), rash, itching, nausea, digestive upset, forgetfulness, loss of coordination, inability to concentrate, horrible irrational fear that you're about to die, unusual dreams, frequent urge to take on new projects/responsibility, lapse in judgement, brittle nails, hair loss, excess hair in unusual places, tingling and numbness in the extremities, and a general sense of apathy to the crises you're in at the moment.

The Medication may interact adversely with other drugs such as: topical treatments for fungus and eczema, you may wish to forgo treatment for those conditions in favor of the greater benefit of  The Medication.  The Medication has been known to cause moderate swelling of the brain, difficulty breathing, heart arrhythmia, internal bleeding, and splenic rupture. Talk to your doctor if you think you may be experiencing any of these symptoms; in most cases, the benefits of The Medication will far outweigh the bleeding to death you are experiencing.

Take The Medication as directed. Overdose of The Medication can cause vomiting, diarreah, bleeding from the eyes and ears, and may cause permanent blindness, deafness, paralysis or hospitalization or even death. Do not stop taking The Medication without advice from your doctor. Severe Discontinuation Syndrome has been know to cause sudden death in some patients. Occasionally, other drugs are used to slowly wean patients off of The Medication, however, use these with caution as they may become habit forming and will require The Medication to counter those effects.

Talk to your doctor today to see if The Medication is right for you! Your doctor will be compensated monetarily for prescribing The Medication. This incentive ensures that the people who need The Medication the most will recieve treatment.

Remember, why be yourself when The Medication can make you more like the person everyone expects you to be!

YAY! THE MEDICATION!

Ju$t*n B*eber is a bad word

I know a few posts ago I told you about the "Michael Jackson" incident, but I ended up having to further the ban on bad language in the house to include more than; Shit, F**k, Ass (and anything that includes the word), Bitch... those are pretty standard, but there were a few slightly less obnoxious words  that I was also really sick of hearing. The words Hate, Kill, Die, Destroy, Sex, Penis, Girlfriend, Michael Jackson, and finally, "Justinbieber". I am so sick of Justinbieber that it has now become an official swear word in my home. How do you like that!

** This is another oldie that I dug out of drafts. I wanted to share it with you. My son, ever the little Sheriff, will actually freak out on the other kids when they're here "NOOO You're not allowed to say that! You-know-who is a bad word!"

hahahahaha.

Throwing things.

It's been a rough winter for me. I've spent a great deal of time battling fatigue and trying to balance my life for the better. I've also lamented over my plight as a Stay at Home Mom, and terrorized anyone who would listen. It came to a head around Christmas time; I was exhausted, depressed, and feeling way overburdened and WAY under-appreciated, and there seemed to be no end in sight. 

The only solution I could come up with (other than voluntary lobotomy)- I had to go back to work. Sick of being broke, weary of ferrying children around, and overdone on the micromanaging, I thought the simple sanity of a regular nine-to-fiver would cure all my ills. My husband, Mr Man himself, was no help at all; "You need meds", and "You have to get rid of these kids" and, "You're miserable! Do something!" were just a few of the inspiring gems he would throw out there- I should mention the fact that from the end of November to the beginning of January, he went to work for a whopping 3 days. He was recovering from a surgery, and taking advantage of a slow spell at work he made up for all the lost time at home by rekindling his relationship with the sofa. So in addition to the 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and sometimes even 7 kids in the house, I had one rather large, often smelly, 38 year old INFANT to take care of. Oi, I get chest pain just thinking about it. Oh he tried to be supportive- he often remembered to keep his mouth shut when I got frustrated and shouted at the kids, and sometimes he would offer a special reminder elbow to push me out of bed when my 6am alarm went off and he didn't have to get up. He stayed out of my way in the mornings, often not getting out of bed to bother me until at least 1pm! Yes, I think I will have to leave him if he ever retires. 

So I broke the news to all the parents, who were all very understanding and sympathetic, and started mentally preparing myself for a return to the workforce. So "Yippee" I said to myself; "I can arrange after school care for Anthony, and find a daytime only job close to home... and get up early and farm my son out... and pick him up in the evening.... and go home and clean up and cook dinner.... and put my son to bed......" Oh, right, I remember this, and this is what some of the parents go through to bring their kids here. A whopping 3 hours a day with their kids so they can go to work every day and deal with stupid people for not enough money. Right. 

And how many parents would just kill to be able to be with their kids more? How many cupcake days at school do they miss out on? What am I doing? 

My own mother worked graveyard shift when I was a kid. There was no money to afford a sitter or after school programs. So she worked at night when my dad was (supposed to be) home, and took us to school, slept, picked us up, fed us, put us to bed, and headed back to work. She was not there for cupcake days either. Ask her now, and she'll tell you she would have given anything to be able to spend that time with us as kids. 

** I came back to this post today, I had stuck it in drafts sometime before we went on Vacation. After 2 weeks sitting on my arse in the sunshine and thinking....I have returned to life feeling slightly less awful about it. Slightly.

I'm still frustrated with my "role" in this family, I'm still avoiding some responsibilities, but I don't feel quite as crappy as I did. I needed a break.

I've since re-committed to taking all the kids, at least until the end of the summer, at which point we will revisit the issue. All the kids will be in school full days by then, and I should be able to find a job during school hours only. Then it's possible that I might keep going with the kids, but the schedules won't be as nuts. I had to ask for a bit more money from everyone, which they all gladly agreed to. And they all went out of their way to tell me what a big deal it was to have their kids come here. That helped a lot.

So, I'm important, I'm needed, I'm appreciated... If only by the people who pay me to take care of their kids, I am a pretty big freaking deal!

This Booze is for Looking At.

The Dusty Stash

I could walk up to you on the street and tell you that I think you have a drinking problem. You -assuming you're a "regular" person who might drink occasionally, and occasionally might drink too much- would look at me like I'm a fucking whack-job and say "No... I don't".

I could return with "Ah, well being in denial about your problem only proves to me, that you have a problem". I could also further qualify my claim with "See, I almost never drink, and certainly never to excess, and therefore, since your recreational drinking habits are not the same as mine, and, I am a much finer specimen of health and well-adjustedness (SNORT I just made up a word!), that must mean you have a problem".

At this point, you may consider inflicting harm on me, this self-righteous **** standing in front of you, trying to beat you to death with bad logic... anyone would understand...

I deal with this kind of crap on a regular basis from my DH and his family.  I can't seem to make them understand that there is a HUGE difference between me actually having some sort of problem and THEM having some sort of problem with ME.

I understand alcoholism. Who doesn't have "alcoholism in the family" somewhere? Everyone has fucking alcoholism in the family, just like everyone has Alzheimer's, Prostate Cancer, Obesity, Depression, ADHD.... Somewhere in every family, someone is screwed up with something.

Yes, I suffer from alcoholism. Not at my own hands though. I've watched chronic, excessive drinking destroy more than one person in my family. We're talking alcohol abuse that caused people abuse. Angry, slobbering, blind, raging drunks. I understand alcoholism. 

 What I don't understand is the pervasive philosophy on life where "I am better at this than you; if you're not doing LIFE like I am, you're doing it WRONG". I blame the internet.


It's not just my in-laws, religion is like this, same with politics... Sometimes it's me! I get irritated with people about their parenting, their relationships, their religious beliefs, their driving.... Sometimes I really believe that if they were "doing life" like I do, they'd be better off. But I don't waste my time terrorizing people with my beliefs- at least unless they want to know what I think!

So picture this scene - Cancun International Airport, busy Duty Free shop. DH and I are browsing and trying to decide what we'd like to take home with our booze allowance. Bear in mind that we have recently rehashed the drinking issue, and I have already decided that I will get my bottle and give it away.

DH "What are you getting?"
Me "I'm getting a bottle of Kahlua for Tara, what are you getting?"
DH "Well you might as well choose yourself since I'm not going to get any of it"
Me " What the Fu** is that supposed to mean?"
DH " Well, it means I'm going to buy a bottle of something, and when I go look for it for a drink, it will be gone"

** people are looking at us now.

Me " Oh, right, I forgot, your booze is 'for looking at'- so go pick your 'for looking at booze' and I'll get Tara a bottle of Kahlua and that's the end of it"
DH " Yes, of course, you're going to make something of it! Just pick whatever you want!"
Me " That's a trap and I know it! I'm going to pick something, and I'm going to go home and eventually drink it, and you're going to go look a couple months down the road and start picking on me if it's gone!"
DH " Oh for fu** sake!"
Me "Well it's TRUE! So which is it!?"

** ...we're getting a little louder now...

DH " What the hell are you talking about?!"
Me "Is this booze for drinking or is it for looking at? "
DH "Pick a fuc**ing bottle before I smack you"

ahh... Yes, it's a bloody wonder I don't have a drinking problem.


Did I pick what I wanted? Yes.
Do I have AN OUNCE of doubt that when it's gone he's going to have something to say about it? NO.
Did either of us "win"? NO.
Am I going to enjoy every last drop of that Captain Morgan Special Dark Jamaican Rum? You bloody bet I will!!



**** It is important that you readers understand, DH and I have been bickering, sniping, and posturing as a means of communication and power grabbing for over 11 years now; we're almost in the pros. No spouses or bystanders were harmed in the making of this public incident!

Hola, Buenas Dias, Dos Cerveza Por Favor, Gracias mi Amigo.

I felt kinda silly for not taking very many pictures on this trip, but all the while, we were at the same resort as last year, and I didn't see the sense in taking pictures of all the same things.

Anyway, here are some of the highlights...

The towel animals. I have had to take a picture of every towel animal on every vacation for the last 7 years. Also in this photo "Calvin" and "Buddy" and in the top right, "Balloon Dog".

I didn't join the boys on this excursion, but I hear tell there were Zip Lines, an Alligator Pit, caves and an underground river.

As you may have rightly deduced, I did not take any of the photos at Xplor...

all over the park they have cameras that are activated by computer chips inside your helmet! 

Before the pedicure...

My #1 son and his main squeeze ;)

The "yacht" (It was basically a slightly large boat... I had my hopes up for one of the BIG ones). They let us off at one point to snorkel, and I think they were trying to have us swept away by the crazy strong current so they could steal our kids and sell them... but they wouldn't have been able to sell our kids- I guarantee it!

After Pedicure :D

My two ragamuffins at the Cancun Airport... going home :(

It was a great trip. I really really needed to relax, and that's exactly what I did. I read a book a day (mostly trash), drank LOTS, and got some much needed sunshine- a little too much sunshine the one day, but it was totally worth it.

Next year I think we're going back to Hawaii. 

ALOHA!

Can you imagine?

Found this with Stumble Upon

http://www.menmakedinnerday.com/rules/index.php

And I couldn't help thinking (go read the "rules"), that the gratuitous praise and gushing were a little out of order. I mean, I already do ALL OF THAT on a daily basis. It's expected of me as the bloody wife. I don't  get "bonus points" for not calling for help, I don't get extra credit if I clean up as I go, and I certainly do not get any special allowances to "gloat" over the finished product. I'm lucky if anyone makes eye contact with me during the meal, and I consider it a special treat if anyone can even be bothered to clear  the table at the end of the meal! So SCREW YOU  "menmakedinner" people! What a waste of webspace!

How about National Men Do The Wife Work Week? How about Men Pick Up After Themselves Month? How about Men Remember to Appreciate Women More Than Once Or Twice A Year Year? I could totally get on board with that!

Here and gone

She would MURDER me if she knew I put this up :)

Yeah Mom, that's a PICTURE of YOU on the INTERNET!
We flew her up for the little birthday- I told my brother "Ok you go pick up Em, and then go stand by Mom, and I'll sneak a picture". That look she has right there is me gettin busted! So worth it.

Until the Sh*t Hits the Fan

Victilly? Biltoria? Whatever. In spite of the fact that they don't have an iota of chemistry as a TV couple, I totally, totally LOVE Billy and Victoria (Abbott). Of course, it helps that Billy is just freaking dreamy. I have such a soft spot for their Romeo and Juliet predicament, and the way Billy would do anything for her, anything... even buy a baby off the black market... 


Oh, yes, I'm holding my breath. You see, last year, the maniac Daisy drugged Douchy Romallotti, had her icky, creepy way with him, and showed up a month ago ready to burst with this "love child", which turned out to be his for sure by way of DNA testing (the best thing to ever happen to the Soap world). Aaaaaanyway, Daisy managed to scam her way out of jail (she landed there the minute she got back into town for the crap she pulled before she left), and into Douchy's care. She faked her labor, escaped, Douchy found her, delivered the baby for real, clobbered Douchy over the head, abandoned the baby in a church, and ran for Canada. Oh I could go on with the back story, but that would take days. Suffice it to say, in a roundabout way, Sweet sweet Billy bought that baby from a black market "adoption facilitator", and brought her home to Victoria, who reluctantly accepted this unusual gift.

Sigh.

The next episode teaser show's Douchy's mom, Phyllis, standing in Billy's living room asking "where did you get that baby?". It's only a matter of time before someone puts 2+5(864*3)-5 together, and figures out that it's really Douchy and Daisy's baby and this will probably be the undoing of Victilly, and will definitely break Victoria's heart... Best case scenario, years will go by and no-one will ever find out until the new baby Newman-Abbott is all grown up and away at boarding school (where all good soap kids go). I can't get enough of Biltoria, and I'm already mourning in anticipation of the disaster to come.

Aren't you glad you have a day job?

Are you guarana finish that drink?

I will stay awake. I will make your breakfast and pack your lunch. I will get all the kids to the bus and to school on time. I will get my niece to nap, and get lunch on the table and pick the big kids up on time and catch up on the laundry and make dinner and help the child with his homework... I will do all these things, and when you give me that look when I stagger past you in front of the TV on my way to bed at 8pm, I will pretend not to notice, I will be asleep when you come up,  and I will get up at 6 tomorrow morning and do it all over again. You're welcome.

The ones that I took the gimpy elastic out of and had to use a safety pin to make them stay up.

"If a bulb dies in the kitchen, and there is no one to make a sound, does it get changed?"

The scenario- There is a light burned out in the kitchen; it's pretty obvious, and will make cooking for everyone this afternoon kind of a pain in the ass.

What to do? Light bulbs are not my department, so it certainly won't be me up there changing it.

Possible outcome # 1) He gets up and notices on his own and changes it. Whenever he does this, I make sure to lavish him with praise and tell him what a sexy manly man he is.

#2) He does not notice, and I have to ask him to change it. After several reminders (nagging), and pointing out that we have company coming, he gets up and changes it. *note that it will depend on whether the company is people I've invited or it's his family, if it were the latter, he would already be up, changed the light bulb, shoveled the walk, cleaned the living room... but since it wasn't his idea to invite people over, it's not important to him.

#3) The most likely turn of events (based on historical data); I will ask, then nag, then insist that he gets up there and changes the light bulb. He will become immovable, maybe ask why I don't do it myself, possibly point out "well, I'm not the one who invited a bunch of people over". And when said people arrive, one of the guys will hop up there and change it for me. Of course this makes him even more resentful, but it satisfies me just fine; I just wanted it done.

I'll let you know how it goes.


***update***
So he noticed it on his own, but I think we're supposed to wait until they all burn out? He talked about replacing the kitchen pot-lights and eventually the rest with CFLs, but he didn't change it. I artfully avoided mentioning the matter to any of my guests last night, as, other than the bulb issue, he was somewhat helpful through the day. He did shovel the walk without being told, and he came with me to do the shopping, and even helped with some of the prep-work for dinner. So... I'm still cooking in the dark.

Recovery

Frost in the Bus Shelter

8:16 pm Thursday evening- I'm sitting here sipping my sensibly, sans-caffeine tea, waiting for the not-my-monsters to get picked up. The PVR is full of recorded programs from this week and last; I haven't watched them, I've been busy sleeping at night instead. What a novel concept! Sleeping! At night! 

The horrible slump I was in leading up to (and including) the holidays is slowly lifting. I have a thing or two to look forward to, the weather (today especially), has been unseasonably, uh, "tolerable", and with the help of a sugar-free Rock Star drink for breakfast every day this week (oh don't even go there), I've been able to stay awake all day! 

This doesn't necessarily mean I haven't wanted to live in pajamas all week, and spend my mornings snoozing on the couch, and stay up until 2 am watching Star Trek movies- No, I still feel like crap, I'm super stupid tired all day, but at least after forcing myself to stay awake for the whole 15 hour stretch, I can hardly wait to get to bed, and there's not a single TV program that can convince me otherwise. 

It's the time of year where everyone makes all these great, healthy resolutions, and then shamelessly breaks them, because that's what resolutions are for apparently. I didn't make any, not consciously anyway. But I've been unbearably miserable for the last several months, maybe even longer. I don't know if this is going to work, or maybe I'll have a major MI from all the ginseng and guarana, but at the moment, I feel somewhat "normal".

I've got my Kitchen Mojo back along with my new and improved outlook (ha ha). I've been inventing and experimenting and having some pretty happy success. I know the boys appreciate it- even though it would apparently kill them to say so. The cleaning ladies are going to have a bloody cow when they come back, I tell you what! I'd like to think my "Housekeeping Mojo" is going to return as well, but then I remember, I never had any of that to begin with!

I don't know where any of this is going, but I'd like to speculate that I will start to feel better soon. Well enough at least to be more fun to be around, and for the day-to-day stuff to seem less impossible. Yes, less impossible would be fine :)

Feel No Pain

(the plastic hillbilly teeth were a nice touch)

Another year gone by, and what do I have to show for it? 10 more pounds, enough grey hair that I don't get ID'd anymore, and a sense of bitterness surpassed only by my lack of desire to get up off my arse and do anything to change it. How sad is that?

Last month I "celebrated" 3 anniversaries. The first, was our 10th wedding anniversary. Ten whole years married to my DH. I find it unsurprising that I can average my weight gain to 10 lbs a year for those 10 years, and not wonder how that came about. If I'm overweight, I'm "Un-Sexy", and if I'm unsexy, I can't be made to wonder what life outside "this" is like. Fat is safety. I did stupid things and had a great deal of fun when I was not fat; therefore, I shall be fat and sensible and boring. Aren't those the best reasons ever?

December also marked the first year in our new home. (and the actual birthday of the home). The house itself is shifting and settling; we've noticed that the upstairs bathroom door drags on the tile in the summer, and opens easily in the winter, and that if the monsoons in the summer are bad enough, the water collects at the man-door to the garage, and runs straight through to the bay doors in the back. We have some drywall repair to do as some of the screws are backing out and making little bumps in the paint. One whole year since we moved in, and there's still some unpacking to do! I'm afraid that if I finally unpack the very last things, we'll have to move. 

And finally, last month was the end of one entire year since I quit my job. I have been a stay-at-home mom for 12 months, and probably the last 11 of those months I have spent struggling to come to terms with the fact that I really suck at it. I don't have a single supermom bone in my body. That's not to say that I can't fake it, it just takes a great deal of effort. Trouble is, I have now made commitments to other working moms, and would feel horrible shame if I had to let them down. So I've decided to hold out for the rest of the school year, and spend some of the summer hooliganting around, and then... back to work. Besides, even if I went back to work tomorrow, I would have nothing to wear! 

I think if I had to claim one single resolution this year, it would truly be to stop kicking myself for the choices I've made. To own up to my life and say "this is mine, I made it this way, and I like it just fine". I have nobody to blame for my situation, and really, why should I? I am truly blessed! I have a hardworking husband, who busts his ass and makes my staying home an option, I have a terrific son who is loving and smart and at least moderately well adjusted, I have a beautiful home to fill with friends and family and laughter and mess... I have   all my arms and legs and senses intact. Not everybody can claim all the things on that list, which makes me extremely fortunate. 

So today, this minute, I am satisfied. 

Happy New Year.