Tremendous-ness

I am both in awe and jealous of Jodi Picault's writing. She is, quite simply, one of the best writers I have had the pleasure of indulging in EVER.

Go. Go NOW and read one of her books.

You'll put me in your will as a way to say thank you, she is that good.

Amen.

Shakin' my world like a one-night stand

I learned new things this weekend:

#1 - Do not bruise the booze. It must slide, slither and glide.

#2 - Vodka martinis. Shaken, not stirred. 3 olives. Now my favourite drink.

#3 - I can catch and kill mosquitoes with one hand very successfully after 2 martinis.

I'm drooling already thinking about sipping at "Mummy's little helper" after work today and it's only 9:00 a.m.. That can't be good.

Next thing you know he'll be teasing wild coyotes for kicks

My son came home from school yesterday with a note from the principal and it wasn't a commendation for exemplary behaviour.

Apparently, he has been teasing an older boy on the school bus for how long now, I don't know. When I asked him what happened, he told me it wasn't that big a deal, that the other kid started it, and he really didn't feel that bad about it. When my son told me he'd called the other kid a "booger-eater" because the other kid picked his nose and ate it, I truly could not stop myself from laughing out loud - at the same time realizing that here was a golden opportunity to teach my son a LIFE LESSON, which he wasn't going to learn if I didn't squelch my laughter.

During our conversation, I tried to get answers to "Why? Why would you say that?" and "How would you feel if someone was picking on you?" and the classic guilt-inducing line "I did not raise you to treat people this way."

My son's inital response to all of these questions was "But MOM! You and Dad both told me it's okay to get in trouble once in awhile!"

O-o-k-a-a-y... Mummy needs a lesson in clarification tout-de-suite.

The principal made him apologize to the other student earlier in the day, but I also made him write a note of apology to both the principal for his crummy behaviour, and to the other kid for hurting his feelings and then he was sent to bed early to THINK ABOUT WHAT HE'D DONE.

I wanted his punishment to fit the crime, for him to realize that we must take into account other people's feelings, while still standing up for ourselves.

But seriously? "Booger-eater" is older than my prom dress...and still just as slap-my-ass-funny!

Too Long Between Cuts

I have thick hair. Unruly, will not stay straight, stick your finger in a light socket frizzy, disobedient, unmanageable hair.

I'm going to get a haircut this afternoon with my hairdresser Frank, who for years, I thought was gay because he is a MAN who works in a hair salon. Three years after finding out, um, no he's not and since then he's had two adorable looking children and I'm still kicking myself in the ass for being so assumptive and judgmental.

I'm appreciative that he keeps me on as a client because he is the only person on this planet who can tame the massive triangle forming around my head into something resembling an actual hairstyle.

Frank will blowdry my hair straight and it will be smooth, and shiny and silky to the touch and I will be petting myself on the head regularly for the next several hours just because it feels so good.

And when I wash my hair I will be sad because the soft flatness of it will be gone and it won't have hugged me or told me that it loved me or wished that it, too, could stay forever.

There will be tears after it's all over. And ice cream. Lots of ice cream.

In Which There Is Much Writing About Frustration

I'm having one of those days/weeks/months where I'm fairly certain I totally, completely, utterly suck at motherhood. Lack of a decent night's sleep is partly the problem.

My son woke up in the middle of the night because a mosquito was buzzing around his head and driving him batty because, of course, mosquitos know that you are trying to sleep and choose that moment to annoy and laugh their little mosquito butts off because, hey, look, I made the giant human jump up and down and, BONUS!, cry. I vaguely remember mumbling something along the lines of, "Go back to bed. There's nothing I can do."

He woke up the night before because of a bad dream. Something about a skull and a glowing red eye. He crawled into bed with us because he was scared, and after an hour of his gangly arms and legs smacking me in my face and stomach, I put him back in his own bed, mumbling something along the lines of "Go back to sleep. Don't think about anything scary." Ever so helpful, that little nugget of wisdom...

Then there is our daughter. I am getting my ass kicked daily by a 2 year old. Daily temper tantrums. As in, EVERY SINGLE DAY daily, in case I haven't made that point clear enough. Screaming, crying, stamping her feet, throwing herself to the floor when we try to get her dressed, get her in the tub, get her to the table for dinner, or I dunno, touch her elbow.

Logically, I know that this is a phase that will eventually pass. Emotionally, I know that I'm on the verge of a breakdown.

Every time she screams I can feel my heart beating faster, my blood pressure rising, and a red haze sometimes covers my eyes. My hands shake and I cover my ears to try and muffle the sound, which, on days when I feel stronger, reminds me of the far-off train whistle I heard every morning growing up in the small town I lived in. I go into the bathroom and shut the door to try and get away from that high-pitched, endless screech of "N-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!!".

Days like today, I'm on the verge of tears myself because I am so frustrated with her and pissed off with me that I cannot FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE IT STOP. Days like today, I want to run away. Days like today I question whether I'm cut out for this. Days like today, I want to stay in bed and throw the covers over my head and watch back-to-back episodes of House or Third Watch or Days of Our Lives. Days like today I can't help but say "F-U-U-C-K..."

On days like today, eventually, I think of my Grammy. She died in March of 2000, and I miss her still because she was so smart and beautiful, and her advice was always to the point and practical. I sniff the little pillow she made a long time ago and that my daughter now sleeps on to see if I can smell her. Once in awhile I swear Grammy's scent is still there in that pillow and I remember that she would always say "This too shall pass." And I can her voice saying, "You're the parent. ACT LIKE IT."

She's right. I take a deep breath and get ready to do this again tomorrow.

Victory is nigh

She peed ON THE POTTY. Three separate times. PEED! ON THE POTTY!

I am so giddy with the thought of not having to clean up Malteser poops that I might just go out and celebrate by buying her anything she wants. Ice cream? Sure! Another pair of sparkly sandals? Of course! Another Dora DVD?

I'm not that high.

Circle of Life

After getting home from my son's ball hockey game last night, he got ready for bed, and like every other night, I put Scratchy the hamster's cage in the hallway because like all hamsters, Scratchy has a habit of scratching at his shavings and crunching noisily on his seeds and carrots during the middle of the night, which wakes the boy up.

Before setting the cage down, I checked on the hamster who was still sleeping in his little house. Except that Scratchy wasn't sleeping. Or moving. Or breathing. I called my son into the kitchen where I had brought the cage and told him as gently as possible that his little pet had died.

We both started to cry. We checked again. And again.

My son didn't want a hug from his mummy, which he has always wanted in the past when something upsets him. This time he wanted to be left alone in his room. I could hear him crying, his heart hurting and with a peek through the half-open bedroom door could see the tears flowing freely down his face.

There are moments in life that always stand out more sharply than others because of the pain we feel, the sadness we show, the tears that fall and seeing him go through this experience was a crystal clear, stand-still reminder for me that my son is on his way to becoming a man one day.

I tucked him in after we decided that we will have a little funeral and bury Scratchy in our backyard.

Then he hugged me.