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.