It is Christmas Eve and in a few short hours, we will be on the road heading to my hometown to spend Christmas with my parents in the bungalow I grew up in and my sisters and their families and my brother and his family will all be there too.
Get out your abacus and count with me:
-2 grandparents PLUS
-4 adult children PLUS
-4 spouses of above adult children PLUS
-13 grandchildren
EQUALS: a grand total of 23 and the little people outnumber the adults by far.
WE'RE GOING TO NEED A LOT OF BOOZE.
I wish you health, happpiness and prosperity over the holiday season.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
It's All About the Proper Pillow
Like you really needed motivation to gag, but another reason I love my husband is that he gets it that I MUST sleep with my flattened-at-the-corners pillow and with tidy-looking sheets and comforter pulled up to my chin.
On occasion, he dares to fall asleep ON TOP OF THE COMFORTER and if you know me at all you know the vision that sails through my head at that particular moment is one in which I've suffocated him with one of the six pillows hanging out on our marital bed. Why there are six pillows (eight actually if you count the two 'fancy' cushions) to begin with can cause a slight argument between us, but nothing that a round of hot marriage sex won't cure.
Back to the pillows...
Our bedding is black and white, so there is a pillow for sleeping on, and when the bed gets made, the sleeping-on-pillow is propped against the headboard, followed by the pillow in a plain black pillowcase, followed by the pillow in the white & black patterned pillow case, followed by the black with white patterened fancy cushion and then the pale lilac fancy schmancy cushion.
PERFECT. SENSE.
My husband often makes the bed and I appreciate this very much. (See reference to hot married sex, above.) However, it does happen that the sleeping-on pillows get mixed up and I end up with his. He thinks it's funny (most of the time) there are so many pillows on the bed and that I am very particular about which one I need to sleep on. He also thinks it's extremely annoying depending on the day.
Having said that, I can tell as soon as my head hits the pillow if I've got mine or his and if I have his, he rarely gets annoyed enough to be really pissed that I wake him up to switch them. Come to think of it, he doesn't even really wake up...he just lifts his head and I jam his pillow under his face, thereby averting the previously mentioned possible suffocation.
My husband is awesome even when he sleeps.
On occasion, he dares to fall asleep ON TOP OF THE COMFORTER and if you know me at all you know the vision that sails through my head at that particular moment is one in which I've suffocated him with one of the six pillows hanging out on our marital bed. Why there are six pillows (eight actually if you count the two 'fancy' cushions) to begin with can cause a slight argument between us, but nothing that a round of hot marriage sex won't cure.
Back to the pillows...
Our bedding is black and white, so there is a pillow for sleeping on, and when the bed gets made, the sleeping-on-pillow is propped against the headboard, followed by the pillow in a plain black pillowcase, followed by the pillow in the white & black patterned pillow case, followed by the black with white patterened fancy cushion and then the pale lilac fancy schmancy cushion.
PERFECT. SENSE.
My husband often makes the bed and I appreciate this very much. (See reference to hot married sex, above.) However, it does happen that the sleeping-on pillows get mixed up and I end up with his. He thinks it's funny (most of the time) there are so many pillows on the bed and that I am very particular about which one I need to sleep on. He also thinks it's extremely annoying depending on the day.
Having said that, I can tell as soon as my head hits the pillow if I've got mine or his and if I have his, he rarely gets annoyed enough to be really pissed that I wake him up to switch them. Come to think of it, he doesn't even really wake up...he just lifts his head and I jam his pillow under his face, thereby averting the previously mentioned possible suffocation.
My husband is awesome even when he sleeps.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Sick Fest 2010
We are a house of sickness - save for one - Derek-the-teenager - and I think it's because his hormones and teenage angst are protecting him like a heat-shield. Lucky shit.
I am trying to get over a nasty head cold, complete with sinus infection, sinus pain, headache and that irritating dry cough that makes you want to vomit the tickle in the back of your throat right into next year. It puts slicing the left base of my thumb right down to where I could see the bone into perspective. A head cold is way worse.
Danielle has a milder version of the above cold.
Olivia, who is just getting over (getting rid?) of the red, chapped mouth she's had for the last several weeks, and the nasty bump/bruise on her forehead from last week (she was rubbing her tired eyes and walked into our bedroom door...I definitely know this child is from my loins because she is a huge klutz like her mother), now has gross, whiteish looking goopy-pus-stuff coming out of the corners of her eyes. I'm experienced enough to know that it isn't (touch wood) pinkeye (at least not yet), and while I can deal with cleaning up kid vomit and diarrhea, eye-goop definitely makes me squeamish.
And then Jeff started puking his guts out last night. I know he was feeling awful because I heard actual moaning (and not the good kind!) coming from him. His entire body was wracked with pain, and in between trips to the bathroom and barfing in the garbage can every 20 minutes, well, let's say Mummy here got very little sleep. I don't know what your husband sounds like when he's upchucking, but mine? Let's just say that I think the hounds of hell were likely awakened by the noise and they were scared.
Gross.
Good wife that I am, though, I got out of bed each time to empty the can, rinse it out, refill it with fresh water (did you know that puke doesn't smell quite so awful if you add water to the bucket? It also makes rinsing it out that much easier. Far less sticky bits to deal with. I wonder if Martha Stewart knows this handy little tip? Maybe I'll give her a call...)
Oh, and to top everything off? I called the furnace guy at 10:00 p.m. last night because our heater stopped working and it's minus 20 degrees outside. Cha-ching! goes the service call....
So, between the baby and the hubby, and the 5:00 a.m. alarm, I calculate that I got about 23 minutes of sleep last night.
I might be a little bitchy today.
I am trying to get over a nasty head cold, complete with sinus infection, sinus pain, headache and that irritating dry cough that makes you want to vomit the tickle in the back of your throat right into next year. It puts slicing the left base of my thumb right down to where I could see the bone into perspective. A head cold is way worse.
Danielle has a milder version of the above cold.
Olivia, who is just getting over (getting rid?) of the red, chapped mouth she's had for the last several weeks, and the nasty bump/bruise on her forehead from last week (she was rubbing her tired eyes and walked into our bedroom door...I definitely know this child is from my loins because she is a huge klutz like her mother), now has gross, whiteish looking goopy-pus-stuff coming out of the corners of her eyes. I'm experienced enough to know that it isn't (touch wood) pinkeye (at least not yet), and while I can deal with cleaning up kid vomit and diarrhea, eye-goop definitely makes me squeamish.
And then Jeff started puking his guts out last night. I know he was feeling awful because I heard actual moaning (and not the good kind!) coming from him. His entire body was wracked with pain, and in between trips to the bathroom and barfing in the garbage can every 20 minutes, well, let's say Mummy here got very little sleep. I don't know what your husband sounds like when he's upchucking, but mine? Let's just say that I think the hounds of hell were likely awakened by the noise and they were scared.
Gross.
Good wife that I am, though, I got out of bed each time to empty the can, rinse it out, refill it with fresh water (did you know that puke doesn't smell quite so awful if you add water to the bucket? It also makes rinsing it out that much easier. Far less sticky bits to deal with. I wonder if Martha Stewart knows this handy little tip? Maybe I'll give her a call...)
Oh, and to top everything off? I called the furnace guy at 10:00 p.m. last night because our heater stopped working and it's minus 20 degrees outside. Cha-ching! goes the service call....
So, between the baby and the hubby, and the 5:00 a.m. alarm, I calculate that I got about 23 minutes of sleep last night.
I might be a little bitchy today.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Balance? Suck It...
Trying to find a sense of balance in my life is not a new theme and I bet it's something y'all are familiar with also. (And no, I'm not from the south, but I've always loved saying y'all just because I can.)
I'm working right now, in fact I went back to work mid-September and what I can say about that is that it's a government-type job. I can also say it's a contract that ends on December 31st. I will also divulge that this is the first time in my adult working life I've not been in a permanent job and while I'm at it, I'll confess that I'm really not enjoying the uncertainty.
There are people out there who flit from place to place and that's great for them if that is their comfort zone. It's not mine. I'm somewhat of a planner and with six of us at home to feed (my mother has been living with us for a few months and that's a post for another time), let's just say that my not having a job come January is a pretty scary feeling what with the little people sort of depending on there being food to eat. (Personally I see nothing wrong with letting them suck the meat off a porkchop bone and eating the slightly-wilted, but nonetheless okay-looking spinach and calling it a day. But nooooo, they want apples. And oranges. And cereal. And a glass of milk. I say, quit yer bitchin' and be happy you're not being force-fed mashed up lima beans Mummy's pretending is a casserole...)
But I digress....balance, right. I've already bored you with my daily routine which hasn't changed except that now there is the added excitement of navigating treacherous roads on my commute to and from work. I have tried at least 3 times in the past week or so to sit down at the kitchen table after the girls have gone to bed to do some crafts. That burst of energy lasts long enough for me to realize I just don't feel like emptying out the craft bin and setting everything up because by the time that's done, I've hit my wall and am eagerly eyeing my pajamas and the bed.
Maybe this weekend....except that Danielle has gymnastics, we need to drive to the cottage one last time and cover up the pontoon properly before winter really sets in, and we're still working on the basement.
If I really need to get my craft on, I guess I'll just draw some pretty flowers on the basement walls with the paintbrush roller. Or maybe I'll smoosh the mashed-up lima beans and call it "art".
I'm working right now, in fact I went back to work mid-September and what I can say about that is that it's a government-type job. I can also say it's a contract that ends on December 31st. I will also divulge that this is the first time in my adult working life I've not been in a permanent job and while I'm at it, I'll confess that I'm really not enjoying the uncertainty.
There are people out there who flit from place to place and that's great for them if that is their comfort zone. It's not mine. I'm somewhat of a planner and with six of us at home to feed (my mother has been living with us for a few months and that's a post for another time), let's just say that my not having a job come January is a pretty scary feeling what with the little people sort of depending on there being food to eat. (Personally I see nothing wrong with letting them suck the meat off a porkchop bone and eating the slightly-wilted, but nonetheless okay-looking spinach and calling it a day. But nooooo, they want apples. And oranges. And cereal. And a glass of milk. I say, quit yer bitchin' and be happy you're not being force-fed mashed up lima beans Mummy's pretending is a casserole...)
But I digress....balance, right. I've already bored you with my daily routine which hasn't changed except that now there is the added excitement of navigating treacherous roads on my commute to and from work. I have tried at least 3 times in the past week or so to sit down at the kitchen table after the girls have gone to bed to do some crafts. That burst of energy lasts long enough for me to realize I just don't feel like emptying out the craft bin and setting everything up because by the time that's done, I've hit my wall and am eagerly eyeing my pajamas and the bed.
Maybe this weekend....except that Danielle has gymnastics, we need to drive to the cottage one last time and cover up the pontoon properly before winter really sets in, and we're still working on the basement.
If I really need to get my craft on, I guess I'll just draw some pretty flowers on the basement walls with the paintbrush roller. Or maybe I'll smoosh the mashed-up lima beans and call it "art".
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Pass The Wine, Please
My 13-year-old son has hair on his legs.
Not the cute, fuzzy little-boy stuff that you sort of expect will last forever because he's always going to be about the age of 4 or 5 in your mind, no matter how tall he gets (and he's getting dangerously close to eye-level with me).
It's man-hair.
Forget the wine, I need a shot of whiskey and a Toblerone.
Not the cute, fuzzy little-boy stuff that you sort of expect will last forever because he's always going to be about the age of 4 or 5 in your mind, no matter how tall he gets (and he's getting dangerously close to eye-level with me).
It's man-hair.
Forget the wine, I need a shot of whiskey and a Toblerone.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
A Honeymoon Photo Wherein I Reference Sex
Taken in June on the first day of our honeymoon sitting on our dock at the lake drinking Pink Bikini-tini and laughing our heads off.You probably can't tell from this photo how sexually charged the atmosphere was, but I can.
I think it had something to do with his shiny new ring.
Meh.
There are so many things I could write about on here, but, as I do in my day-to-day life, I choose to edit those topics.
Why?
We have all encountered people in our lives (either on the peripheral or smack dab in the middle) who voice their own, usually very strong and very wordy, opinions on everything from politics and religion, on whose responsibility it really is for the glaring spelling mistake in the newsletter that's already been printed and mailed to a thousand people (and no, I'm not using a current example here) right on down to whether the size of the dust bunny under your bed is more or less a houseguest that never leaves.
Why do I edit on here? There are a lot of reasons. Mostly because I'm often too busy trying to make it through every day to even have time to sit and FORM AN OPINION (unless it involves anyone in my house wanting to wear a T-shirt outside when it's minus 10 degrees, in which case, my opinion is less an opinion and more of an order of the I-don't-freakin'-think so-kind.)
I edit because I think if I unleashed some of the pent-up anger and frustration I feel, while therapeutic in the moment, would only hurt me in the end. So, I pretty much keep my opinions to myself.
But I will share this with you - stupidity doesn't discriminate.
Why?
We have all encountered people in our lives (either on the peripheral or smack dab in the middle) who voice their own, usually very strong and very wordy, opinions on everything from politics and religion, on whose responsibility it really is for the glaring spelling mistake in the newsletter that's already been printed and mailed to a thousand people (and no, I'm not using a current example here) right on down to whether the size of the dust bunny under your bed is more or less a houseguest that never leaves.
Why do I edit on here? There are a lot of reasons. Mostly because I'm often too busy trying to make it through every day to even have time to sit and FORM AN OPINION (unless it involves anyone in my house wanting to wear a T-shirt outside when it's minus 10 degrees, in which case, my opinion is less an opinion and more of an order of the I-don't-freakin'-think so-kind.)
I edit because I think if I unleashed some of the pent-up anger and frustration I feel, while therapeutic in the moment, would only hurt me in the end. So, I pretty much keep my opinions to myself.
But I will share this with you - stupidity doesn't discriminate.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Birthday Girl
Danielle is 5 years old today and if the last week or two are an indication of how it's going to go in her teens, she may not make it to 6...
I also really wish you weren't so fascinated by everything "Hanna 'tana" related because Strawberry Shortcake still RULES.
"Smile a sunny morning!
Sunny all the way!
Something new is da-a-a-w-w-n-n-i-n-g,
Bet it's called TODAY!"
Happy Birthday, Stinky-Feet-Scooter-Butt.
I love you.
I also really wish you weren't so fascinated by everything "Hanna 'tana" related because Strawberry Shortcake still RULES.
"Smile a sunny morning!
Sunny all the way!
Something new is da-a-a-w-w-n-n-i-n-g,
Bet it's called TODAY!"
Happy Birthday, Stinky-Feet-Scooter-Butt.
I love you.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Ways To Charm Me
Inform me in your matter-of-fact voice that "the old Danielle is in the garbage because she doesn't do very good listening. And this is the new Danielle - she's a lot nicer."
I couldn't agree more.
I couldn't agree more.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Question For You
I'm pretty sure I've whined about this before, and here I go again....how and when am I going to make me a priority?
This is a constant struggle and I have great admiration for all women out there who somehow find the time to exercise, to do crafts, to spend time with your friends, to volunteer, to read a book - to do whatever it is that gives you pleasure and energy for the demands on the rest of your time.
My day generally starts at 5:00 a.m. with the alarm going off and if you know me AT ALL, you know that I'm not exactly a morning person unless I can be very quiet (at one time I would have suggested "quiet as a mouse" but having heard them in the walls and ceilings of our house I can inform you quite honestly that mice are about as quiet as a 4-year-old's birthday party. Therefore, being quiet as a mouse should actually mean that you are screaming loudly, fighting over a Barbie doll and on a sugar rush that has you speeding around like you've just swallowed your first hit of meth.)
I shower and get ready to leave for work by 6:15 (this routine always includes checking on the three kids and giving little hugs & kisses - hubby too - and double checking there are enough bottles made for the baby because lately she's been waking up a lot - growth spurt-check.)
My commute is approximately 40 minutes long, depending on the traffic and I start work at 7:00 a.m. I eat lunch around 11:30 and weather-depending go for a walk and try to read a bit of my book. Workday ends at 3:00 p.m, commute home is longer because of traffic, pick up the baby at daycare by 4:00, the kids are home from school at about 4:15, and then I'm swarmed for the next few hours. Time to talk to the kids for a few minutes, try to get baby settled so I can make dinner, hubby gets home around 4:30 and he helps with homework if needed, we break up an argument or two over what constitutes an appropriate snack considering dinner will be ready within the hour. The teenager is hugely helpful with the baby and setting the dinner table and then it's dinnertime, clean-up after dinner, playtime with the kids, bathtime, bedtime and before you know it, it's 7:30 and time to put in a load of laundry, make tomorrow's lunches, get everyone's clothes ready and finally GO PEE because I should have done that 2 hours ago, and then it's almost 8:00 and I'm exhausted and ready for bed myself.
Hubby helps out a lot too, but he's swamped with renovating our flooded basement (I still haven't told you about that, but I will) every spare minute he has and he's also on call 24/7 with our local fire department, as well as being a captain there and in charge of training (which they do every other week.)
And somewhere in this long day I am supposed to be exercising my soft ass into rock-hard shape, or do some stamping/scrapbooking crafts, or finish that damn blanket I started knitting some time ago.
Am I really this lousy at time management? HOW DO YOU DO IT? That's not a rhetorical question by the way. I would like to hear your answers.
This is a constant struggle and I have great admiration for all women out there who somehow find the time to exercise, to do crafts, to spend time with your friends, to volunteer, to read a book - to do whatever it is that gives you pleasure and energy for the demands on the rest of your time.
My day generally starts at 5:00 a.m. with the alarm going off and if you know me AT ALL, you know that I'm not exactly a morning person unless I can be very quiet (at one time I would have suggested "quiet as a mouse" but having heard them in the walls and ceilings of our house I can inform you quite honestly that mice are about as quiet as a 4-year-old's birthday party. Therefore, being quiet as a mouse should actually mean that you are screaming loudly, fighting over a Barbie doll and on a sugar rush that has you speeding around like you've just swallowed your first hit of meth.)
I shower and get ready to leave for work by 6:15 (this routine always includes checking on the three kids and giving little hugs & kisses - hubby too - and double checking there are enough bottles made for the baby because lately she's been waking up a lot - growth spurt-check.)
My commute is approximately 40 minutes long, depending on the traffic and I start work at 7:00 a.m. I eat lunch around 11:30 and weather-depending go for a walk and try to read a bit of my book. Workday ends at 3:00 p.m, commute home is longer because of traffic, pick up the baby at daycare by 4:00, the kids are home from school at about 4:15, and then I'm swarmed for the next few hours. Time to talk to the kids for a few minutes, try to get baby settled so I can make dinner, hubby gets home around 4:30 and he helps with homework if needed, we break up an argument or two over what constitutes an appropriate snack considering dinner will be ready within the hour. The teenager is hugely helpful with the baby and setting the dinner table and then it's dinnertime, clean-up after dinner, playtime with the kids, bathtime, bedtime and before you know it, it's 7:30 and time to put in a load of laundry, make tomorrow's lunches, get everyone's clothes ready and finally GO PEE because I should have done that 2 hours ago, and then it's almost 8:00 and I'm exhausted and ready for bed myself.
Hubby helps out a lot too, but he's swamped with renovating our flooded basement (I still haven't told you about that, but I will) every spare minute he has and he's also on call 24/7 with our local fire department, as well as being a captain there and in charge of training (which they do every other week.)
And somewhere in this long day I am supposed to be exercising my soft ass into rock-hard shape, or do some stamping/scrapbooking crafts, or finish that damn blanket I started knitting some time ago.
Am I really this lousy at time management? HOW DO YOU DO IT? That's not a rhetorical question by the way. I would like to hear your answers.
Ways To Charm Me
Give me one of your best little-boy hugs because in your sleep-induced haze you've forgotten that you are now a teenager and are not supposed to "need" me anymore.
I love you, too.
I love you, too.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
You Have GOT To Be Joking
I was cleaning up the kitchen Sunday night as Jeff came upstairs with a weird smile on his face and quickly walked past me to our bedroom. Within seconds he was passing me again, headed down to the basement where he has been working his arse off doing the renovations after our basement flooded (wait a tic, I haven't told you about that yet, have I?), again with the weird smile but I noticed that he was trying to hide a tennis racket behind his back.
You know what this means, don't you?
EXACTLY. Bat-chasing time.
Which means I promptly hid. And by promptly what I really mean is I dropped the dishtowel and coffee mug into the sink and ran to our bedroom to slam the door shut before I started screaming hysterically. As I passed the living room, I asked/told/demanded that Derek go down there and make sure Jeff had killed it and report back to me. I didn't lose my mind completely because I had the foresight to close the girls' bedroom door (they were asleep) in the event that motherfucker got its' way upstairs, something I refused to think about for more than 5 seconds because then I would start screaming and crying and freaking the hell out.
A minute or two later I heard "thwack" so I was pretty sure mission accomplished, and then I was informed that, "Oh, no, Mummy, it wasn't a bat. It was....(pause).... ummm....(pause)......just a little mouse."
Now, I am sometimes known to be naive or slightly gullible when it comes to life in general, but NEVER when it comes to this because the little hairs on the back of my neck were still standing at attention, so while on one hand it was sweet they were trying to protect me from this little phobia of mine, I also knew the truth - everyone knows you can't kill a mouse with a tennis racket - you need peanut butter, a good trap and the ability to not be too grossed out by the sight of a dead one. But bats are STUPID and thank god for that. I also thank my husband for his great aim.
And now, the great tradition of scanning the ceilings and windows and curtains continues, followed by many sleepness nights to come.
I HATE BATS.
You know what this means, don't you?
EXACTLY. Bat-chasing time.
Which means I promptly hid. And by promptly what I really mean is I dropped the dishtowel and coffee mug into the sink and ran to our bedroom to slam the door shut before I started screaming hysterically. As I passed the living room, I asked/told/demanded that Derek go down there and make sure Jeff had killed it and report back to me. I didn't lose my mind completely because I had the foresight to close the girls' bedroom door (they were asleep) in the event that motherfucker got its' way upstairs, something I refused to think about for more than 5 seconds because then I would start screaming and crying and freaking the hell out.
A minute or two later I heard "thwack" so I was pretty sure mission accomplished, and then I was informed that, "Oh, no, Mummy, it wasn't a bat. It was....(pause).... ummm....(pause)......just a little mouse."
Now, I am sometimes known to be naive or slightly gullible when it comes to life in general, but NEVER when it comes to this because the little hairs on the back of my neck were still standing at attention, so while on one hand it was sweet they were trying to protect me from this little phobia of mine, I also knew the truth - everyone knows you can't kill a mouse with a tennis racket - you need peanut butter, a good trap and the ability to not be too grossed out by the sight of a dead one. But bats are STUPID and thank god for that. I also thank my husband for his great aim.
And now, the great tradition of scanning the ceilings and windows and curtains continues, followed by many sleepness nights to come.
I HATE BATS.
Ways To Charm Me
When asked, "Where are your pleases' and thank-yous?" reply matter-of-factly "Well. Mummy. I lost them."
Monday, November 8, 2010
Mushy Brains
This is a blanket I started knitting, oh, 4 years ago? I pulled it out of the closet to try to pick it up again and if you look closely (towards the bottom of the pic) you can see that I've become completely clueless on how to continue.Knit 2, purl 4? Knit 4, purl 2? Knit 4, purl 4?
Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Sunflowers
Friday, November 5, 2010
Ways to Charm Me
Inform us with that side-cock of the head, serious-looking face and 16-year-old-attitude in your almost-5-year-old body that you and your friend, Noah, had a "wedding test" yesterday where you "practiced" getting married.
You should know your father almost passed out.
Ways to Annoy Me
Stand against the opposite wall of the elevator so I can feel you looking directly at me as I face the elevator doors like you're supposed to.
Creep.
Creep.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Starbucks Christmas Blend
One of the highlights of the coming Christmas season is this coffee.
Cue the choir of angels.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
So Long, Farewell
Halloween is over for another year and I am still counting my blessings. If you are new to this blog, take note - I am an All Hallows' Eve hater.
There are so many things I don't like about it - the widespread usage of clown make-up, the running rampant clowns (they pop up everywhere and each time I see one my hysteria only grows), the creepy-zombie-vampire-bloody-gory-body-parts-hanging-off-trees-and-in-store-displays; and the complete availability of mountains of mini-chocolates and candies.
It snowed on Saturday night and was still cold with lots of the white stuff covering lawns on Sunday night and bless her little heart, Danielle was satisfied with 40 minutes' worth of trick-or-treating. The baby was wrapped up snugly, and Derek was nice enough (and grumbled only a little) to escort his little sister to front doors where the child-who-NEVER-shuts-up became mute. Albeit a very sweet, sparkly mute princess. He even scored a bag of candy at one place because they thought it was so cute that a big brother was helping that way.
Meanwhile Jeff and I were freezing our asses off curbside - my eyes glued to the stroller in front of me while he scanned the streets for clowns. And a testament to how much he loves me is that he will warn me to keep looking the other way if he sees one. I'm pretty sure he'd also beat the shit out of one if it came over to me. (Another reason why I'm happy I married him...)
There's lots more to tell, but never enough time for me to get online to write it down. But I'm trying.
I hope you are well!
There are so many things I don't like about it - the widespread usage of clown make-up, the running rampant clowns (they pop up everywhere and each time I see one my hysteria only grows), the creepy-zombie-vampire-bloody-gory-body-parts-hanging-off-trees-and-in-store-displays; and the complete availability of mountains of mini-chocolates and candies.
It snowed on Saturday night and was still cold with lots of the white stuff covering lawns on Sunday night and bless her little heart, Danielle was satisfied with 40 minutes' worth of trick-or-treating. The baby was wrapped up snugly, and Derek was nice enough (and grumbled only a little) to escort his little sister to front doors where the child-who-NEVER-shuts-up became mute. Albeit a very sweet, sparkly mute princess. He even scored a bag of candy at one place because they thought it was so cute that a big brother was helping that way.
Meanwhile Jeff and I were freezing our asses off curbside - my eyes glued to the stroller in front of me while he scanned the streets for clowns. And a testament to how much he loves me is that he will warn me to keep looking the other way if he sees one. I'm pretty sure he'd also beat the shit out of one if it came over to me. (Another reason why I'm happy I married him...)
There's lots more to tell, but never enough time for me to get online to write it down. But I'm trying.
I hope you are well!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Lousy At This Old School Bloggin' Thing
The entire month of August passed without an update from me. Did you miss me? I missed you, too, in between long sips of Pink Bikini-tini and enjoying the sunshine at the lake.
Maybe instead of going back to the days of trying to write something every few days, I should just post monthly updates instead. Of course, that would mean I'd have to ACTUALLY POST MONTHLY UPDATES. What a concept.
The end of August was a high time (the two older kids went back to school and not a moment too soon. There is a reason summer vacation is 10 weeks long because as much as we love the little buggers that's also about how long it takes for us to drive each other crazy before bloodshed or severe alcoholism kicks in.) They were thrilled to be back and once the school-bus drama (another post...maybe next month?) got sorted out, everything was coming up roses!
The low time came at the end of the month when we put our beloved-pain-in-the-ass, Marla, down. We have known since last summer the day was coming and our poor 14 year old pooch was suffering with hip dysplasia, deafness and a whole host of other problems.
Jeff and I brought her to the vet's together and I thought I was going to vomit from crying so hard. We got to spend a fair bit of time with her while the sedative was taking effect and we told her over and over how much we loved her, what a good dog she was and also saying thank you. Thank you for being so awesome, thank you for loving us even when we were total shitheads to you, thank you for giving me that extra sense of security that someone else was there to protect me and my babies if need be. In seconds, she was gone.
And I know she's not in pain and for that I'm glad, but I'm left wondering when I'm going to stop hearing her nails clicking on the floors? When will I stop walking around "her"? As in the spots in the kitchen where she was always laying down waiting for a piece of food to fall or the rug in the living room and just this morning I did a step-back/step-over because I thought (like always) she was laying on the floor right behind my feet. When will we all stop filling up her dish with water because it's there next to the water cooler?
And as of Monday this week, I'm back to work.
*sigh*
My life of leisure is officially over.
Maybe instead of going back to the days of trying to write something every few days, I should just post monthly updates instead. Of course, that would mean I'd have to ACTUALLY POST MONTHLY UPDATES. What a concept.
The end of August was a high time (the two older kids went back to school and not a moment too soon. There is a reason summer vacation is 10 weeks long because as much as we love the little buggers that's also about how long it takes for us to drive each other crazy before bloodshed or severe alcoholism kicks in.) They were thrilled to be back and once the school-bus drama (another post...maybe next month?) got sorted out, everything was coming up roses!
The low time came at the end of the month when we put our beloved-pain-in-the-ass, Marla, down. We have known since last summer the day was coming and our poor 14 year old pooch was suffering with hip dysplasia, deafness and a whole host of other problems.
Jeff and I brought her to the vet's together and I thought I was going to vomit from crying so hard. We got to spend a fair bit of time with her while the sedative was taking effect and we told her over and over how much we loved her, what a good dog she was and also saying thank you. Thank you for being so awesome, thank you for loving us even when we were total shitheads to you, thank you for giving me that extra sense of security that someone else was there to protect me and my babies if need be. In seconds, she was gone.
And I know she's not in pain and for that I'm glad, but I'm left wondering when I'm going to stop hearing her nails clicking on the floors? When will I stop walking around "her"? As in the spots in the kitchen where she was always laying down waiting for a piece of food to fall or the rug in the living room and just this morning I did a step-back/step-over because I thought (like always) she was laying on the floor right behind my feet. When will we all stop filling up her dish with water because it's there next to the water cooler?
And as of Monday this week, I'm back to work.
*sigh*
My life of leisure is officially over.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Hats
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Another Wedding Pic...
When I Say Ugly, I MEAN Ugly...
We spend most of our summers at the lake and because I am on maternity leave we are spending more time than usual up there. Why not? I'll never have this kind of freedom again, so we're taking advantage of it.
And then a bird hit the windshield that same evening.
After this, I think we're going to move into a bubble.
I think some of you know that my husband is also a professional bass fisherman which means he spends a fair amount of his free time practice-fishing and doing tournaments - he had one this weekend. What I'm getting at is that while he is gone, I am with the kids keeping them entertained and this is often accomplished by playing with them in the water at our little section of beach.
After Saturday's experience I am now scanning our little piece of shoreline a lot more closely before any one of us dangles one tiny toe in the water...Livi was safe in her playpen, the dog was tied up, Dani was coloring in her books and wanting to get in the water with me but I asked her to wait a sec until I could get cooled off, which took all of 60 seconds because as you know, children are DEMANDING.
I ducked under and came up feeling cool as a cumcumber and Danielle decided she no longer wanted to get in the water. Seconds after this I'm a very happy mummy to have a child with the attention span of a gnat. I sat down in the camp chair (in the water) and watched Marla (the dog) walk 3-4 feet to my left and there she was sniffing at something, but I don't see anything, so I turned my attention back to the kids and then I heard a low growl. The kind of sound MY DOG DOES NOT MAKE. I looked back over and focused on a furry grey head that turned to stare at me and in the same second I screamed, ran for the kids, and screamed again for my neighbours, Clark and Marilyn, who came running.
It was the sickly, perhaps rabid, raccoon that has had everyone at the camp on high alert for the past two weeks. To make this story shorter, let's just say I owe Clark & Marilyn and another neighbour Paul (who did the dirty work getting rid of the critter...who knew that 2x4 would come in handy?) a lot of alcohol as thanks!
That drama ended quickly and then we looked over to find THIS UGLY THING sitting there on top of our pontoon wondering where the hell his dinner (and breakfast and lunch and brunch the day after) had disappeared to. It's a turk
ey vulture and they are prehistoric and frightening.
ey vulture and they are prehistoric and frightening.And then a bird hit the windshield that same evening.
After this, I think we're going to move into a bubble.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
9 Weeks
That's all the time I've got left on maternity leave. How the hell does it pass so quickly?
It feels like only a few weeks ago I gave birth to Olivia and I had all the time in the world...
Baby Olivia turned 9 months old on Monday - she is crawling everywhere and pulling herself up to a standing position anywhere she can. She is a smiling, happy, easy-going baby and I thank my lucky stars to have ended my baby-career on such a lovely note.
It has been incredibly busy - so much so that my brain feels like it has been scrambled and I can't quite string together a simple sentence to explain it all. If you'll forgive me, maybe I'll just write down a few noteworthy bullet points!
It feels like only a few weeks ago I gave birth to Olivia and I had all the time in the world...
Baby Olivia turned 9 months old on Monday - she is crawling everywhere and pulling herself up to a standing position anywhere she can. She is a smiling, happy, easy-going baby and I thank my lucky stars to have ended my baby-career on such a lovely note.
It has been incredibly busy - so much so that my brain feels like it has been scrambled and I can't quite string together a simple sentence to explain it all. If you'll forgive me, maybe I'll just write down a few noteworthy bullet points!
- Jeff and I got married on June 12 and it was exactly what we wanted in our wedding. We had fun, the guests had fun and honeymooning was fantastic!
- The bass boat almost died. (Believe me, if you're married to any type of fisherman, but especially a bass fisherman - this is CATASTROPHIC news.)
- The kids finished school on June 22nd and we're still in shock to realize that Derek is turning 13 this fall and going into grade 8, while Danielle will be 5 and going to kindergarten.
- We are trying to decide what to do about our poor dog, Marla. Do we put her down which seems the humane thing to do or do we wait for her to go at home and traumatize the kids who may wake up and find her dead?
- If Danielle gives me attitude one more second she is going to lose every single thing in her room except her bed, a pillow and her blankets. Seriously. The shoulder-shrug and the "whatever" coming out of her mouth is enough to make me want to bitch-slap her. (And NO, OF COURSE I WOULD NEVER DO THAT, but jeezus, you other mothers get it, don't you?)
- We've been spending a lot of time at the lake because I'll never have this kind of time off work again. It really sucks to not be filthy rich.
- I'm in love with my husband. Still.
- I love my (generally) happy, and healthy children.
Life is good and I am blessed. Over to you.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Life Is For Living
I sort of knew it'd been awhile since my last post, but I didn't realize it's been a month.
What's new you ask?
Baby Olivia is over 6 months old already and she is healthy, strong and more beautiful every day. She also poops. A lot. And sometimes it comes out her diaper and squishes all over her father's shirt. And sometimes he passes her to me and it squishes all over my shirt. And sometimes it falls on the floor and the 4 year old kneels in it and FREAKS OUT. And it's only then we realize we have baby shit ALL OVER US and it is gross.
Danielle is constantly making us laugh with silliness which is exactly how 4 year olds are supposed to behave. And she behaves more often than not which is refreshing change from the hellish temper tantrums she used to have every single day and twice on Tuesdays.
Derek is 12-going-on-13. He finally broke up with his girlfriend some time ago, and he did it as nicely and quickly as possible. He is awesome with his baby sister and tolerates Danielle and when I asked him this morning, "Why Derek? Why must you pick at her in the morning when we know how cranky she is?" His reply said it all. "I'm her big brother, Mum. IT'S WHAT I DO."
That's all I've got time for at the moment. I'm going to write more soon. Just a couple of other things:
1. I've been living and enjoying life which means my thyroid meds are working.
2. Julia - I'm thinking about you and sending you BIG HUGS.
What's new you ask?
Baby Olivia is over 6 months old already and she is healthy, strong and more beautiful every day. She also poops. A lot. And sometimes it comes out her diaper and squishes all over her father's shirt. And sometimes he passes her to me and it squishes all over my shirt. And sometimes it falls on the floor and the 4 year old kneels in it and FREAKS OUT. And it's only then we realize we have baby shit ALL OVER US and it is gross.
Danielle is constantly making us laugh with silliness which is exactly how 4 year olds are supposed to behave. And she behaves more often than not which is refreshing change from the hellish temper tantrums she used to have every single day and twice on Tuesdays.
Derek is 12-going-on-13. He finally broke up with his girlfriend some time ago, and he did it as nicely and quickly as possible. He is awesome with his baby sister and tolerates Danielle and when I asked him this morning, "Why Derek? Why must you pick at her in the morning when we know how cranky she is?" His reply said it all. "I'm her big brother, Mum. IT'S WHAT I DO."
That's all I've got time for at the moment. I'm going to write more soon. Just a couple of other things:
1. I've been living and enjoying life which means my thyroid meds are working.
2. Julia - I'm thinking about you and sending you BIG HUGS.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Enough With The Drama
Time for me to take a long, deep breath. So many things have been happening lately - some good, some great, some that make me shake my head with a "WHAT THE FUCK...?"
I'm a firm believer in things happen for a reason and sometimes we don't always understand the reasons (in fact, sometimes I'd like to kick reason's ass) but there is a purpose in it all.
Some of the great things that have happened is that a while ago, Jeff and I finally set our wedding date. And it's taking place THIS YEAR on June 12th. (I think I was more than generous in offering to work around his fishing tournament schedule, don't you?) We are having a small and intimate wedding with our immediate families and close friends only and we are happy and excited about it. The plans are gelling together nicely, although my younger sister may not come which would suck, but that's her choice. (The background there is that my hubby-to-be is close friends with her ex-husband and I'm not about to tell him he can't be friends with someone. He's over 18, he can make his own choices. I love my sister with all my heart, and understand her hurt and anger because i think she feels like we're choosing him over her, but my god, that is SO NOT THE CASE....)
And then something that has both puzzled and hurt recently is receiving a Facebook message from a cousin that I haven't been close to in years - I've emailed him a couple of times to say, "Yo. Dude. What's happening, what's new? I'm thinking about you" and I got a reply yesterday wherein he basically told me to piss off because we're not close anymore. O-o-k-a-a-a-y...There was a lot of pent-up anger and hurt in his reply and at first I felt like I had to defend myself to him. I'm sorry you feel like I stopped all contact when I moved away from home (at the age of 18), and I'm sorry I haven't been in touch more often, sorry I've been working my butt off every day, sorry for living my life and raising my kids, and oh-by-the-way-did-you-hear-I-just-had-a-baby, you damn moron, and MAYBE, just MAYBE, I might be a little bit fucking busy?
Whew, guess there's a lot of pent-up anger here too.
I didn't write that to him because I decided then and there that I DO NOT have to defend living my life for the past 20 years and he will either get over it and be an adult about things and we will hopefully get a chance to get to know each other now, as grown-ups, or...he won't.
And then yesterday, I started my period.
Drama. Drama. Drama.
ENOUGH.
I'm a firm believer in things happen for a reason and sometimes we don't always understand the reasons (in fact, sometimes I'd like to kick reason's ass) but there is a purpose in it all.
Some of the great things that have happened is that a while ago, Jeff and I finally set our wedding date. And it's taking place THIS YEAR on June 12th. (I think I was more than generous in offering to work around his fishing tournament schedule, don't you?) We are having a small and intimate wedding with our immediate families and close friends only and we are happy and excited about it. The plans are gelling together nicely, although my younger sister may not come which would suck, but that's her choice. (The background there is that my hubby-to-be is close friends with her ex-husband and I'm not about to tell him he can't be friends with someone. He's over 18, he can make his own choices. I love my sister with all my heart, and understand her hurt and anger because i think she feels like we're choosing him over her, but my god, that is SO NOT THE CASE....)
And then something that has both puzzled and hurt recently is receiving a Facebook message from a cousin that I haven't been close to in years - I've emailed him a couple of times to say, "Yo. Dude. What's happening, what's new? I'm thinking about you" and I got a reply yesterday wherein he basically told me to piss off because we're not close anymore. O-o-k-a-a-a-y...There was a lot of pent-up anger and hurt in his reply and at first I felt like I had to defend myself to him. I'm sorry you feel like I stopped all contact when I moved away from home (at the age of 18), and I'm sorry I haven't been in touch more often, sorry I've been working my butt off every day, sorry for living my life and raising my kids, and oh-by-the-way-did-you-hear-I-just-had-a-baby, you damn moron, and MAYBE, just MAYBE, I might be a little bit fucking busy?
Whew, guess there's a lot of pent-up anger here too.
I didn't write that to him because I decided then and there that I DO NOT have to defend living my life for the past 20 years and he will either get over it and be an adult about things and we will hopefully get a chance to get to know each other now, as grown-ups, or...he won't.
And then yesterday, I started my period.
Drama. Drama. Drama.
ENOUGH.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Struggle, Struggle, Tiny Light, Struggle, Struggle
It's getting through my head that new habits are hard to form. I'm trying to change 30 years of negative thoughts about my body, but I will be honest and say that my confidence is...very low. You know those makeover shows where they suggest that you focus on one body part you like? Everyone has one little thing, right? I can't find my one little thing. I finally admitted to my fiance that I don't like anything on my body - to the point where I can't even look at myself in the mirror when brushing my teeth.
I would NEVER say negative things to my daughters (or my son for that matter) or friends and I understand that what's on the inside is more important, but at what point did I give myself permission to treat myself so horribly?
How self-indulgent and fucked up am I?
I'm SICK OF IT.
I would NEVER say negative things to my daughters (or my son for that matter) or friends and I understand that what's on the inside is more important, but at what point did I give myself permission to treat myself so horribly?
How self-indulgent and fucked up am I?
I'm SICK OF IT.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
A Favourite Thing
I just got this necklace and I love it. I love the circles. I love the knots. I love the design. It's awesome.It was also cheap and from Avon.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
File Under "Huh" - Part Deux
Meet my new best friends. Aren't they pretty?The results of my thyroid ultrasound and bloodwork came back - turns out that I have an extremely underactive thyroid. A normal thyroid level is at a 2 or 3. Mine is at 87. (You'd think that high number would mean I have an over-active thyroid but it appears it's all about the opposite with this thing.)
Which explains the fistfuls of hair that have been showing up in my comb pre-and-post shower as well as dropping here, there, and everywhere. It also explains why I've been feeling cold constantly (I'm almost always the person who is too warm and can we please open a freakin' window already?), the dry skin, the fatigue, the lack of energy, oh and THE WEIGHT GAIN.
I have been beating myself up emotionally and mentally because I could not figure out why I haven't been able to lose weight despite a solid effort of eating healthy and exercising regularly. And now a huge surge of relief that it hasn't just been all in my head - I'm being too lazy; I'm eating poorly; I didn't work out hard enough.
My doctor said I'd start to see a difference in about a week, and then I'm doing a follow-up in a month to make sure the thyroid level is where it's supposed to be. In the meantime, I'm getting excited about waking up in the morning to take this little yellow pill because I know it's going to help me get healthier. Which means I'll have more energy for my life.
It's a good day.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Nectar of the Gods
Sweet baby Jesus, how this red wine tastes so good....Little Penguin Shiraz.
Mmm. I may have just had a tiny orgasm in my mouth.
Mmm. I may have just had a tiny orgasm in my mouth.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Victory
She HATES having her hair tied up in any way, but this time, it was her idea, so that makes it worth it.She also made it impossible not to tell her a hundred times how beautiful she is. A regular occurance to which (as shown here) she usually replies, "Argh, NO I NOT. I SMART."
Rough & Tumble Princess
It was crazy hair day at school. Considering it's usually a battle to even get a simple barrette in her hair, I savoured this victory for DAYS!
Tiny Pockets of Time
There are many instances when I'm able to quiet the voice(s) in my head and truly appreciate little moments as they happen. The endless list of things I need to do, get done, plan ahead for - disappear - because a moment like this occurs and I realize I've actually taken a deep breath and am so thankful for my life, for my children, for my hubby, for friends and family.
It can be the unexpected, most amazing hug from my son that lets me know that, in fact, my little boy still IS inside the continually hungry and getting taller every day body.
It is hubby telling me he thinks I am a strong and amazing "wife". (I'll explain the quotation marks in another post!)
It is the toddler telling us very seriously that she is going to buy her ding-dong house at Walmart with her monies. (Definition: Ding-dong house refers to the overpriced Fisher Price plastic playhouse made for kids. It comes with a working doorbell. We are currently searching out a large cardboard box and will stick a wireless doorbell to it...et voila! A ding-dong house that didn't just cost a couple of months' worth of truck payments! It's called innovating.)
It is a moment like this I was able to capture when baby fell asleep in her swing. Here comes that deep breathing again...
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Holding Pattern
Baby Olivia has a cold so she hasn't been sleeping well at all during the day or at night. For example, exhausted baby fell asleep about 15 minutes ago, and right at this moment, she is doing the fussy-I-want-to-wake-up-but-I'm-oh-so-tired-cry....and it's quiet again. Quiet......and here comes the cry again.
It's been like this all night long for a few nights in a row now, so I too am not getting any sleep. The kind of no sleep where you put your mug full of hot coffee in the fridge, the coffee cream in the cupboard with the cereal, and you have no idea why you are staring at a handful of toilet paper while sitting on the toilet because you can't remember why you sat down on the toilet to begin with. Note to self: You are peeing.
The possible thyroid problem is not yet resolved but will be in another couple of weeks. Blood test results are in and I'm off to discuss them with my doc next week, after the ultrasound on my throat, so we'll see what's up.
To sum it up today - I have three healthy, beautiful children and a fiance who loves me so despite extreme exhaustion and my struggle with depression, I know my life is a good one.
And now, to sleep, perchance to dream. (But I'll settle for an uninterrupted 20 minute nap.)
P.S. Thank you to everyone who comments on my posts. I do read them and your support (yes, YOU!) means so much to me.
It's been like this all night long for a few nights in a row now, so I too am not getting any sleep. The kind of no sleep where you put your mug full of hot coffee in the fridge, the coffee cream in the cupboard with the cereal, and you have no idea why you are staring at a handful of toilet paper while sitting on the toilet because you can't remember why you sat down on the toilet to begin with. Note to self: You are peeing.
The possible thyroid problem is not yet resolved but will be in another couple of weeks. Blood test results are in and I'm off to discuss them with my doc next week, after the ultrasound on my throat, so we'll see what's up.
To sum it up today - I have three healthy, beautiful children and a fiance who loves me so despite extreme exhaustion and my struggle with depression, I know my life is a good one.
And now, to sleep, perchance to dream. (But I'll settle for an uninterrupted 20 minute nap.)
P.S. Thank you to everyone who comments on my posts. I do read them and your support (yes, YOU!) means so much to me.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Olivia
Nicknames: Lola, Poopy, Olive.
All things considered, it's a wonder she's as cheerful a baby as she is.
All things considered, it's a wonder she's as cheerful a baby as she is.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
File Under "Huh"
Apparently the ping-pong-ball size lump on my throat isn't normal. It's likely a thyroid problem but I'll know for sure in a few weeks time after the blood test and ultrasound results come in.
In the meantime, the only image in my head is the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is visiting the "goiter lady."
Grotesque...and yet she can't look away from it in the same way I can't stop touching it!
In the meantime, the only image in my head is the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is visiting the "goiter lady."
Grotesque...and yet she can't look away from it in the same way I can't stop touching it!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Obsessed or Possessed?
I've been debating in my head for some time on whether I have the courage to write it down here, in this unknown but public space, my struggle with food. Struggle may be too light a description. It's more or less an obsession - and not the good kind.
I think about food ALL THE TIME. It is a mostly hate relationship. As in, it's behind every single thought I have throughout the day, it's the first thing that pops into my head when I wake up and it's the last thing I think about when trying to go to sleep. As in, I can't believe I ate that, why didn't I push myself harder during my workout, why didn't you work out yesterday too, why didn't I eat an apple instead of 6 cookies...why? Why? Why? I understand on an intellectual level that eating good, healthy food puts proper fuel in my body so that I have energy for everything.
The problem is that I am addicted to sugar and cannot seem to shake it. I cannot get through a single day without it. I start off with all good intentions in the morning by eating a good healthy breakfast (usually old-fashioned oatmeal with a few walnuts, blueberries and cinnamon thrown in), and of course a cup or two of coffee with 1/2 and 1/2 and tiny bit of SUGAR mixed in. And by tiny bit, I do mean so little that really I could do without it at all, which I'm working towards. Then, mid-morning that little white devil in my ear starts thinking about anything and everything sweet that might be in the house and the nibbling starts. I have read everywhere that when cravings start the best thing to do is do something else. Except in my case? Trying to focus on something else (the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, oh, right, the BABY) only intensfies the cravings.
Willpower, willpower, where art thou?
I think about food ALL THE TIME. It is a mostly hate relationship. As in, it's behind every single thought I have throughout the day, it's the first thing that pops into my head when I wake up and it's the last thing I think about when trying to go to sleep. As in, I can't believe I ate that, why didn't I push myself harder during my workout, why didn't you work out yesterday too, why didn't I eat an apple instead of 6 cookies...why? Why? Why? I understand on an intellectual level that eating good, healthy food puts proper fuel in my body so that I have energy for everything.
The problem is that I am addicted to sugar and cannot seem to shake it. I cannot get through a single day without it. I start off with all good intentions in the morning by eating a good healthy breakfast (usually old-fashioned oatmeal with a few walnuts, blueberries and cinnamon thrown in), and of course a cup or two of coffee with 1/2 and 1/2 and tiny bit of SUGAR mixed in. And by tiny bit, I do mean so little that really I could do without it at all, which I'm working towards. Then, mid-morning that little white devil in my ear starts thinking about anything and everything sweet that might be in the house and the nibbling starts. I have read everywhere that when cravings start the best thing to do is do something else. Except in my case? Trying to focus on something else (the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, oh, right, the BABY) only intensfies the cravings.
Willpower, willpower, where art thou?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Think "Tootie" from the "Facts of Life"
Ooooo, there's gonna be troub-b-l-l-e!
P.S. The dress is hers. The rest was her big brother's idea.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Difficult Days
It's been tougher than I ever imagined in my wildest dreams to come to an acceptance that the time has come to say goodbye to my little boy and hello to the stubborn, hellish pre-teen and teen years.
We fought this week with a ferociousness I did not think was possible and it wasn't pretty. It didn't end with a funny-Cosby-show-lesson-learned moment either. There was an enormous amount of frustration with each other that led to confrontation on my part, as in me telling my son that he will not treat me like something he's trying to scrape off the bottom of his shoe, that he will talk to me with the respect and courtesy he shows his teachers and his step-father and father.
He looked at me like he hated me. Then he stalked (he stalked!) to his room, slammed the door shut while hollering "Why can't you just leave me ALONE?"
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. When his bedtime rolled around that night things were calmer and I got my usual hug and kiss goodnight but for the life of me I could not stop tears from falling, full-stream, down my face. This moment, this one here and now, we'd talked about a few times before - we knew the day was coming that we would start arguing, that he would feel pissed off at me for a variety of reasons, but my god - I had no idea how much it was going to hurt. It took my breath away.
And it got worse because as I smelled that little spot on the back of his neck mothers always sniff because the essence, the spirit, of your child is found there....my heart broke even more because his little-boy-smell...was gone.
It's. It's just...gone. And I know it's never coming back.
We fought this week with a ferociousness I did not think was possible and it wasn't pretty. It didn't end with a funny-Cosby-show-lesson-learned moment either. There was an enormous amount of frustration with each other that led to confrontation on my part, as in me telling my son that he will not treat me like something he's trying to scrape off the bottom of his shoe, that he will talk to me with the respect and courtesy he shows his teachers and his step-father and father.
He looked at me like he hated me. Then he stalked (he stalked!) to his room, slammed the door shut while hollering "Why can't you just leave me ALONE?"
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. When his bedtime rolled around that night things were calmer and I got my usual hug and kiss goodnight but for the life of me I could not stop tears from falling, full-stream, down my face. This moment, this one here and now, we'd talked about a few times before - we knew the day was coming that we would start arguing, that he would feel pissed off at me for a variety of reasons, but my god - I had no idea how much it was going to hurt. It took my breath away.
And it got worse because as I smelled that little spot on the back of his neck mothers always sniff because the essence, the spirit, of your child is found there....my heart broke even more because his little-boy-smell...was gone.
It's. It's just...gone. And I know it's never coming back.
Friday, January 8, 2010
An Interesting Thing Happened On The Way to The Grocery Store...
I never made it. I drove to the grocery store, parked the car, baby sound asleep in her carseat...and my legs went numb, familiar panic choked my lungs and throat and I started to feel dizzy. Yeah! Anxiety attack! Two thumbs up to the older couple tossing odd looks to the crazy lady crying in her station wagon, clutching at the steering wheel and trying to dial a cell phone.
Did I mention how much I'm enjoying being sleep deprived? No? IT'S FUCKING AWESOME.
On another note but a definitely related topic, to Anonymous who comments on my blog: Thank you for your encouraging words and electronic hug - it's very much appreciated. This is my third go-round with post-partum depression and you'd think it'd get easier, but it doesn't. The good news is that because I'm not having any more babies, this will be the last bout and I can go back to dealing with and trying to manage the regular-drag-my-ass-out-of-bed-day-to-day-depression instead! You know, until peri-menopause and menopause begins.
Honestly though, hubby knows what's going on and he's been incredibly supportive and doing what he can to help and that includes talking to the kids and asking them to "help Mummy a bit more". (The 4-year-old's vicious temper tantrums are a huge energy drain and when you're running on empty but trying to squeeze out a touch more patience it is frustrating. Sort of like when you knock a glass over, stand it back up, only to immediately knock it over again. And again. And again. And then you grab the glass and throw it against the wall to teach it a lesson. Except that, obviously, my daughter isn't a glass and I would never do anything to physically harm her, so in this particular situation, she's temporarily lost the brand new toys Santa brought her and she will get them back one at a time for each day she behaves like a tiny human being instead of Satan's evil-doer frothing at the mouth.)
My mum and dad also know because I've told them, but I haven't specifically told my sisters, brother or any friends - I sort of think they've all got enough of their own stuff going on and I don't want to bother them - not that my parents also don't, but it's just different - they're my parents.
As I look over at the beautiful sleeping girl (who as of yesterday, by the way, weighs 12 lbs, 8.5 oz.) I realize that now just might be an opportune time to try and have a nap. Not an easy task for someone who is, admittedly, not a napper, but I'm going to try.
And that's the word for today.
Did I mention how much I'm enjoying being sleep deprived? No? IT'S FUCKING AWESOME.
On another note but a definitely related topic, to Anonymous who comments on my blog: Thank you for your encouraging words and electronic hug - it's very much appreciated. This is my third go-round with post-partum depression and you'd think it'd get easier, but it doesn't. The good news is that because I'm not having any more babies, this will be the last bout and I can go back to dealing with and trying to manage the regular-drag-my-ass-out-of-bed-day-to-day-depression instead! You know, until peri-menopause and menopause begins.
Honestly though, hubby knows what's going on and he's been incredibly supportive and doing what he can to help and that includes talking to the kids and asking them to "help Mummy a bit more". (The 4-year-old's vicious temper tantrums are a huge energy drain and when you're running on empty but trying to squeeze out a touch more patience it is frustrating. Sort of like when you knock a glass over, stand it back up, only to immediately knock it over again. And again. And again. And then you grab the glass and throw it against the wall to teach it a lesson. Except that, obviously, my daughter isn't a glass and I would never do anything to physically harm her, so in this particular situation, she's temporarily lost the brand new toys Santa brought her and she will get them back one at a time for each day she behaves like a tiny human being instead of Satan's evil-doer frothing at the mouth.)
My mum and dad also know because I've told them, but I haven't specifically told my sisters, brother or any friends - I sort of think they've all got enough of their own stuff going on and I don't want to bother them - not that my parents also don't, but it's just different - they're my parents.
As I look over at the beautiful sleeping girl (who as of yesterday, by the way, weighs 12 lbs, 8.5 oz.) I realize that now just might be an opportune time to try and have a nap. Not an easy task for someone who is, admittedly, not a napper, but I'm going to try.
And that's the word for today.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
A New Year on Familiar Ground
The holidays are over and I have been utterly exhausted for quite some time. It's been building up for a while - between having given birth a few short weeks ago, preparing for Christmas and family visiting, which also meant trying to figure out meals to feed a minium of 8-10 people regularly, not to mention the middle-of-the-night breastfeeding which turns into me not sleeping for more than 2-3 hours a night.
Let me just say that sleep deprivation is not a fun trip. (Not like that time I smoked some Mary J. and laughed my ass off through likely my 32nd viewing of Bridget Jones' Diary. I'm pretty sure I passed out because I remember talking to my sister Melissa at the beginning of the movie and I kid you not, ONE MINUTE later the movie credits were rolling and I was still laughing...now that was a trip.)
I am constantly worrying about something bad happening to Olivia. Mostly that she's going to choke on her own spit and I won't hear her and be able to save her. The first night in the hospital, she did start choking on amniotic fluid she'd swallowed and that was very scary and I haven't been able to get that awful sound or vision out of my head. She was turning red, then purple right before my eyes as the night nurse was pounding her back trying to make her puke it up. Which she did. She settled down quite nicely in fact. My heart, however, has not stopped racing every single time I put her down to nap and it's accompanied by abject fear where my fists are clenched, my chest heavy with pressure because I can't breathe, my whole body shakes from nauseousness and tears. Enough tears that my eyes are puffy and a special shade of red that only comes from such little sleep and crying 3 hours a day.
I am yelling at my other two children too. A disrespectful attitude from my son, temper tantrums from my daughter is enough to send me off - their unacceptable behaviour has become mine because I swore AT them this morning (as in, "I AM FUCKING DONE WITH THIS CRAP IN THE MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME? GET YOUR FLIPPIN' SNOW PANTS ON AND GET OUTSIDE BEFORE YOUR BUS GETS HERE! N-O-WWWWWWW!!!!!")
I'm more than familiar with depression , as you know, from a lifetime of trying to manage it, but right now, I feel like I'm drowning in this shit.
Let me just say that sleep deprivation is not a fun trip. (Not like that time I smoked some Mary J. and laughed my ass off through likely my 32nd viewing of Bridget Jones' Diary. I'm pretty sure I passed out because I remember talking to my sister Melissa at the beginning of the movie and I kid you not, ONE MINUTE later the movie credits were rolling and I was still laughing...now that was a trip.)
I am constantly worrying about something bad happening to Olivia. Mostly that she's going to choke on her own spit and I won't hear her and be able to save her. The first night in the hospital, she did start choking on amniotic fluid she'd swallowed and that was very scary and I haven't been able to get that awful sound or vision out of my head. She was turning red, then purple right before my eyes as the night nurse was pounding her back trying to make her puke it up. Which she did. She settled down quite nicely in fact. My heart, however, has not stopped racing every single time I put her down to nap and it's accompanied by abject fear where my fists are clenched, my chest heavy with pressure because I can't breathe, my whole body shakes from nauseousness and tears. Enough tears that my eyes are puffy and a special shade of red that only comes from such little sleep and crying 3 hours a day.
I am yelling at my other two children too. A disrespectful attitude from my son, temper tantrums from my daughter is enough to send me off - their unacceptable behaviour has become mine because I swore AT them this morning (as in, "I AM FUCKING DONE WITH THIS CRAP IN THE MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME? GET YOUR FLIPPIN' SNOW PANTS ON AND GET OUTSIDE BEFORE YOUR BUS GETS HERE! N-O-WWWWWWW!!!!!")
I'm more than familiar with depression , as you know, from a lifetime of trying to manage it, but right now, I feel like I'm drowning in this shit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)