Crazy is as crazy does

Here it is 10:30 Wednesday night. My had hasn't hit the pillow before 11:45 p.m. (and that's early) for over six weeks now.

I'm currently rebuilding/reposting pictures to the Arts for Autism web site because of another denial of service attack on the hosting provider. FRACK!

And, lets not forget that Hallowe'en is in a couple of sleeps. CU-2 is going to be crowned the week of procrastination. We went through multiple costumes already - the only chick with a name from Astrisk, then it was James Bond, then ... Madonna when she painter herself silver (for an album cover). (Let's not forget that I started to pull these costume parts together for the silver-spoon princess!) Tonight she decided on a maid. She's French, so it will be a French Maid costume ... it's amazing what I can do with a curtain and a prayer. I'll be stitching something up tonight, and here's hoping a run to the local Dollarama is fruitful. (Where else am I going to find doillies, ribbon and a feather duster??!!)

And I'm still not done the cat costume for CU-3. Thank small gawds that CU-4 hasn't expressed an opinion this year. I'll break it to him Friday morning that he's going in Spiderman pjs.

Timing flies

I really can't believe how quickly time flies between posts. Maybe it's that my life isn't that exciting. (Or maybe it is and I'm just distracted ;-)

This week was a lot of full ofs ...

My aunt passed away Tuesday and I've been communications manager for my mother, where possible. I wished I could have gotten away to the States and had accompanied her on the trip, to help out and run errands and what not for her. That was not possible. My brother drove the eight hour trip in and was very helpful I hear.

Back-to-back and stacked meetings had me on the treadmill. As Grandma C pointed out, with me, it doesn't rain, but floods a la Kanata. Backwash and all.

I did get the installation up Tuesday afternoon (it already feels like a million years ago that this was done). Now it's to let travelers know there is something to be seen at Gate 14!

Though my to do list is growing, I've been able to pull of some long days and scrape stuff off. The level of satisfaction is huge. HUGE I tell you. It makes feeling running on the spot so less mundane. (Packing four to six lunches a night is just nothing to write home about unless it's a box lunch for Julia Child's cook book.)

One thing that I have been able to squeeze in again is reading. I've got the regular pile by the bedside. Most of the titles are lurching towards the return date without a page being turned. There is one that I've been dragging around with me, just because. It's one of those books where I'd buy one for every woman friend and man friend if I could afford. It's "I'd trade my husband for a housekeeper: loving your marriage after the baby carriage". Run run run to the library and request a copy. I feel, frequently as I read this book, that I am talking to one of my girlfriends who's being straight-up with me. There are many OMG moments that may help me with other relationships I struggle with. I guess that's all to say - it's worth a look-see, if you are in any type of relationship, and if you care of my opinion of books.

I'm back

After 28 hours in the car, I've touched the Eastern part of Canada. We crossed through four provinces and didn't once want to come to blows with one another.

That's not to say I'm going to do another trip with my compatriots. It was a learning experience.

Even before we left I had a dreaded feeling. Passive-aggressive comments. Whining. I thought I was leaving the kids behind for a three day road trip with The Divas. Well it was a trip.

To highlight some of the fun stuff:

Mrs. Dunster's Donuts - they haven't changed in 20+ years. Just as yummy.

Greco Pizza's donairs - we snuck out the first night there after tucking in The Diva's. I couldn't wait and had to get one into my system. OMG it was good. Beyond good. Excellent and I miss it already.

Louis' Excellent Used Clothing - a experience in and of itself and the whole reason for the trip. 10 full outfits later, plus a dozen t-shirts for Child Unit 4, a half-dozen pair of pants for the same child, six dresses and a pair of shoes for Child Unit 3, a hoody and dress for Child Unit 2 and a pile of clothes (including an Issac Mizrahi jacket) for the weekend caretaker goddess. I do believe it was a good haul and justified the trip.

Now, the hard part. Back to reality.

The Huz starts school tomorrow which should be the crowning glory for a "Better eat my Wheaties" day. Back-to-back-to-back meetings not just tomorrow but all week that extend to my evening time. I don't usually schedule my life this full. Things just sort of happened. I think I need to get some one else to arrange my dance card ...

Anyway. It's not bad. Just busy. And a bit busier then I'd hoped for. It's just that kind of September.

Here is one thing that is on top of the pile, and might be of interest to some of you in the area:
Autism Ontario Cycle of Autism is a fun fundraising event spent bicycling around the city. If nothing else, come by and say "hey". I'll be there, some where!!

Sigh

I don't know what to call this post. I started off with "Phew" then switched to "On the road again" then "Fried".

I'm all of these things.

I just finished reframing about two dozen or so photographs for a solo show I'm mounting at the McDonald-Cartier International Airport next week. If you're passing my gate 14, drop in and take a look.

I haven't begun to pack for a weekend-long jaunt East. Earlier this summer a friend had again suggested taking a road trip East to shop at her favorite store, Margolians. Apparently it's like a Frenchies, but better??!! So, we made plans, which expanded to include another friend and The Huz as driver. The time has come to put things in motion. This time tomorrow we should be approaching Montreal, the children should be fast asleep under the watchful eye of a dear friend, and well, everything should be in it's place for the kids to line up and shoot out the door to their perspective places for the day and weekend. Here's hoping.

It's a crazy trip - 14 hours one way, not counting stops. We expect to be back Monday mid-day, I hope 'cause the show's installation is Tueday afternoon.

I'm not yet excited because, well, possibly because I'm too tired. I had to start in on Grade 7 home work tonight, review Grade 6 homework, and try to deflect a senior K melt down because some one keeps thinking she can stay up later then she should.

Anyway. I'm out here. I'm trying to get out there more often. If I survive this weekend, it's my goal to start posting twice a week so that at least grandma C gets some decent conversation fodder with her son ;-).

See y'all when I get back.

I once had a simplier life

I consider myself a Luddite by persuasion.

I'd prefer not to have a cell phone (though it is handy when The Huz has gone off on a 7 a.m. grocery run and has left the list behind).

I like reading books made of paper. I don't own an iPod and wouldn't really know what to do with one. My five year old knows how to work the TV and time shifting better than me. The 2.5 year old knows how to program the VCR! Both my mother-in-law and mother are on Facebook now. I'm slipping farther and farther behind in my knowledge of technology.

The goofy thing is that I worked in hard core Technical Writing for over 12 years.

Today, well, tonight, I just figured out that I had yet another email address associated to an organization for which I am volunteering. I hadn't checked the email since it was established for me 2 months ago. There was/is a lot on my to do list now ... urg.

What really kicks my can though is that I now have collected no fewer then six email addresses. I really don't want that many and don't want to have to manage them. (The email function I looked at tonight didn't advise as to how to forward emails to my work address ...)

How do you all stay on top of your technology?

August

So, it's like been almost the entire summer, like since I posted.

Like, I feel like such a dork.

Ok. I never was a Valley Girl (being from New Brunswick I wasn't sure what that meant. Since moving to Ottawa, I've got a better understanding ;-).

The throw back is possibly a result of a lot of flash backs I've been having of late. I found THE HORRIFIC PICTURE of me and my date, Doug (who was a bit of a big boy, though taller, dark and handsome at the time) and I at our Junior-Senior prom. Funny the coincidence of it all, I'd been talking to my senior daughter the previous week about boyfriends in high school, and that she'll have NOooo problem finding some one to like her for her looks, plus ...

When the subject turned to me, well, lets just say I was the ugly duckling. I brought swans into this world.

So, what a way to start a blog entry from being away for a while. It's been, well, been.

At the begining, I was suffering from flu-like symptoms and general malaise that just seemed to grow and grow into a big grey mass. I figure I might have been suffering from fatigue. Maybe a bit of burn out from a transitional June. Maybe grey-day syndrome, as I seem to have picked up again now that we've had a bit of sun.

During that time I survived two more reno projects - one is an extension of our kitchen into the former glorified hallway / study / computer space which involved three walls being some what removed, and a lot of fine wood working craftmanship (thank you Robert). The second reno that's coming to fruition is the replacement of windows that have been sealed for six years. Thanks to a timely pot of funds that I wasn't expecting, I was able to replace the windows with garden doors and screen in my porch to expand the living space. It's glorious to have air again.

Also during the time away I've been working on boosting the bottom line for local businesses through a post card project. So far it's had mixed results. I'm thinking that unsolicited help and a gift to a business would be a good thing, however, every one is looking for a catch. Oh well. I did obtain a grant to continue the work, which will just about cover the costs of printing.

Then there's the arts show I coordinated at the begining of August over in Quebec. That was well received and I would hazard to suggest that it was a success with all the artists making a sale or two.

There was also the fun and fabulous 5k run through the neighborhood. I had two runners in the event this year. Both doing quite well for, well, for no training. Basically they walked out the door, to the starting line on race day and went at er. Senior girl ran the 5k in about 29 minutes. The Huz covered the same distance in a respectable 35 minutes. I've been told the expectation is for me to do it next year. I'm thinking I'll put Junior girl in the 1k and _maybe_ escort her. Though, there's always a need for barrier wardens ...

The last three weeks of my away time was part of my summer "staycation" holidays. I took first and third week of this period, while The Huz took the middle week. The first week was a bit bumpy, but not too bad. I had seven or eight in tow and they were able to mostly play well with each other. My second week was harder as, for the most of the week I just had "the twins". My 2.5 year old, and my neighbors 3+ year old. Man the threes are just not a kind year on responsbile adults! Let me tell you, going back to work IS my vacation. Kudos to those women and men who's calling is to stay at home and/or care for the wonderkins. I don't know how you do it.

I'm expecting to try to be around more, now that the weather is cooling off a bit and school starts (for my kids next week). The routine is going to change a bit with three kids in one school and the eldest starting at the high school (Grade 7 gets quarintined from the 9 through 12s, they share walls though.)

This fall should be interesting. I'm trying to cut back on some activities and sort out others, to get the time to read again, and maybe stop teasing PC that I'm going to take up drawing again. Maybe ...

I think what is really triggering that is a project that junior daughter and I are participating in at the locale community centre. It's working with clay, and it's about making our community ... for the last two Tuesdays we designed our house in clay. It will be dried and added to a larger, city-wide display. Kind of neat.

Also creatively, I'm currently working on organizing an event at the Patrick John Mills Contemporary Art Gallery for November - Arts for Autism is the name of the event. It's a fund raiser. I'll be putting out a call for arts on ArtEngine shortly. That being said, feel free to spread the word. There is a receipt-in-kind for artists who's work is accepted.

And, I may have another solo show in the making. I need to confirm with the currator of the space tomorrow.

I'm also not loosing hope of finding another space for a group show ... I figure that one will come together in good time.

Alas, it sounds like I'm dumping a lot of things on my plate again. I'm trying not to, unless, of course updating here is one of the things.

Which reminds me ... we got a dog. Jasper is his name. He helps me out a lot. Smart thing. Never had a dog before that could fetch. One of our rituals has been that before he's crated for the night I throw his dog toy and he watches while I go get it for him. It's highly entertaining for both of us.

On that note. It's later then I need it to be and it's time to sign off.

Happy reading.

I'm still here

I just needed a break from technology.

Things I haven't been doing lately

• Blogging
  
• Reading anything longer then three paragraphs
  
• Going to the library
• Thinking creatively
• Feeling well
• Not loosing things on a regular basis
• Reading other people's blogs
• Exercising patience
• Cleaning the house
• Taking care of the overgrown garden
• Listening to the radio
• Thinking
• Under reacting
• Eating appropriately
• Laundry
  

And what do I have to say for myself?

This will not be a Michael Jackson post. Nor a Farrah post. And yes, I'm still alive.

We had a wee bought of maladie at this end, folllowed by a larger bout of construction (three walls to be exact). Followed by end of school activities, a CPR assessment, more school (professional development for me), a weekend out of the province (not that big a deal, it was to get my fill of guilt visiting the mothership at the cottage).

I had been meaning to post about all those things, but I was a bit disconnected for a while (see second subject in second paragraph.) Kind of hard to do bloggy stuff when your computer is scattered across three rooms.

How have you all been?

You know you've got a bad case of insomnia when ...

or, it's 4 o'clock and all is well ...

You know you've got a bad case of insomnia when ...

• you willingly scoop the cat box at 3:30 in the morning, just to have something to do
• you decide that 3:35 a.m. is a reasonable time to start tackling the mountain of laundry you've been eye balling for the past week
• you're contemplating doing gardening work, but don't because a) you might wake up the neighbhors, and b) it seems a bit creepy poking around in the garden at 3:45 in the morning\
• you make to do lists for the day that you know are going to be impossible to complete because of the fatigue that is bound to set in, ... and you do it any way
• you've been absent from regularly posting to your blog and you're posting at 4 in the morning!
  

The end of the world as I know it

Spent the weekend tending to Child Unit #1 who has a suspected case of pig flu. That part wasn't bad. The reintegration of food into a stomach that hadn't seen anything for the better part of a few days - now that was bad. Add divadom on top of that. I heart sleep, even in those stolen moments in the washroom, though the creases on my face are a bit hard to explain.

Though I'm not in full-blown panic (I might very well be in another hour or so), I write my French grammar exam for the third time tomorrow. This time I think things have stuck. Or something has shifted, (or it's the cold and flu medication,) 'cause I'm doing much better on my practice exams. Let's see if we can apply it tomorrow morning at 8:15 a.m.

Tomorrow is also Child Unit #2's birthday. She'll be 11. My baby. My former angry baby is 11. She's a lot less angry and is probably my favorite blue-eyed daughter. Lots of talent. Lots of patience. Lots of gerbils running upstairs. She's going to do something pretty darned interesting in this life time - write stories, help little old men cross the street, sing at the National Arts Centre (she's already done that one). You go girl.

So, her ice cream cake and gravy is ready to go for dessert. She's already received one of her birthday presents. (I think that makes it WebKinz #53 or #54 - hey she gets them from her friends for presents too!) She'll get a bit more attention at school tomorrow, then some more from us. It'll be a nice day. A good day for her. Maybe I'll stop by the liquor store after we get her birthday pictures for a bottle of Dan Acroyd's label. I'll freaking need it after the last couple of weeks I had.

For any of you who happen to be looking for an update to the Gallery side of things. It's coming; it's just really really really late. So late that it might be July by the time I get things up. In the mean time, swing by for tea or walk around the parameters of the house. Though the garden hasn't got any attention this year (no seeds have made it to ground yet), I am starting a public art display.

BTW - for any of you in my area that are looking for a cool way to volunteer, Nat is looking for some road supervisors for the upcoming race in July.

Apparently I am falling off the end of the world

Or so it feels like.

I'd like to blame it on having to prepare and write for my third wack at French grammar exams. It's a deficit. It's my huge deficit. Alas, it's not the only one.

End of year stuff has got me a bit tied in knots. Three of my kids only have three weeks of school left. On one side, that's very good. On the other, I need to come up with a transition plan for the one who needs it to reduce anxiety. It's going to be a bad September. I'm just saying.

I also have the change of the month kind of things. I'm behind posting the new exhibition on the Kitchen Wall. Physically it's there, virtually (on-line) it isn't. Maybe I can get my act together tonight after the Arts Committee meeting. Though there's also getting ready for The 'Burg's Best Bargins sale this weekend. (An attempt, though albeit a bit of a weak one of trying to give the Great Glebe Garage Sale a run for its money.)

I think things would be a hell of a lot better if I could throw open the windows and not feel like I have to put a polar fleece on (thank small gawds for that invention though!).

Or maybe I just need a clone. I've got another friend working on that. She said she'd ordered hers. I'm waiting to find out where she got it, and if she likes the model. I might just request a clone of hers if everything works out.

It helps if you remember your password

So life is in full swing. The last few weeks have been running, running, running. Few fatalities, except for reformatting a memory stick that had some information that's not replaceable. Ugh and oh well.

But things are going to get quieter, maybe.

All I need now is some sleep.

For the last couple of weeks, sleep has been fleeting. We made it past the wild weekend of people traffic.

Friday night was pizza night and we fed, oh, about 28 people. Fun. Entertaining. No biggy. Looking forward to the next one too.

Saturday was a bigger then life day though. Not one, but two birthday parties. Child Unit 3 was first up to bat with a handful of five year olds. A home based party was held. It was good. Easy. Incredibly easy. Too easy.

With a one hour break, most of the kidlets were picked up except for one. Again, no biggy, except that this child was feeling the affects of not seeing his parental units for 24 hours.

The hour of respite passed quickly and the second wave of older kids came through. Eight girls were shuttled into the upper regions of the house, with their personal items and gifts for the birthday girl. Giggling ensued while they realized we'd kept the surprise party a secret from Child-Unit 2.

We all went off to the artistic activity. Coordinated the drop-off of Cu-2. And SURPRISE!

It was a beautiful thing.

We trucked back through the hood. Upon hitting the door, I was confronted by The Huz who's temple veins were throbbing. He was ready to skin some children.

As the lore that will be told in the future goes, one of the "little people" got into the guests' room and TRASHED it. And I mean trashed it. It was a neighbor who spotted one of the kids smearing something white (turned out to be yoghurt) on the window. Gifts were open, nothing was left untouched.

That wasn't pretty.

Funny though, it's like the universe was conspiring; I was totally calm, with a real laissez-faire attitude. What should have been a screaming match turned out to be manageable, no big deal, particularly in the face of nine potentially hysterical kids. We made it through. All was good.

It's got to be one of the weirdest events that's happened to me. I'm never calm, at least not like that.

Good stuff that I was back to normal my Monday!

Long weekends

Long weekends are just opportunities for me to do a bit more work, but taking it in a different direction.

This weekend was good for that. First there was the intervention where two girl friends and I went for breakfast, followed by several hours of torture, but fun torture, if bra shopping can be called fun. I'd never been sized (apparently it's not much more then I dreamed about), and hadn't had that much attention given to my frontal apparitions EVER. It was interesting.

As the klingons were out at the cottage with The Huz, I had part of the afternoon to myself. So I goofed off, folded laundry, and watched home shows until my shift at the Great Canadian Theatre Company for a Third Wall production of Henry V. OMGoodness, what a fantastic production. Their use of lighting, sets and movement. Wow. If you're in the 'hood and get the chance ... GO! Fan-freaking-tastic.

I got a late late pick-up from The Huz and got trucked out to cottage country where life is slower and people are a lot more relaxed. Well, all except for me, which the mothership regularly pointed out. (Mind you my stress level may have been a bit high as she held back for a full 20 minutes before deciding to pick at me. Thanks Mom. That just might be a record!)

Sunday was spent on photographing other artist's work to get ready for a show I'm organizing for the long weekend in August. It was a working weekend, which, I have to say to some degree, I enjoy.

For fear of turning this blog entry too much into an itinerary (again, thanks to Mom for claiming all my conversations turn out like those with her ex-husband (my bio-father) - an itinerary, I'll say that Monday was not a day of running around after artists (just because they'd not shown up in the community yet to open their cottages ;-). Instead, I stormed out of the house a couple of times because, in trying to have a conversation with The Huz, I had to field getting advice about my body language and word choice from interested parties who shall remain nameless.

A funny anticdote for those who know of some of the trials we've been having with CU-4 ... the child who never sleeps: I took him out with me on a long long walk, to tire him out. The Huz decided he needed to follow me, for what ever reason (I think it has something to do with him watching A Street Car Named Desire one too many times). So we're walking along, with CU-4 between us who stopped chattering a long time ago. The kid is walking and sleeping at the same time. How do I know this? His eyes are closed, and, when we get back to the landing pad, and tuck him into a cozy bed, he's up 10 minutes later.

Man. I'm buying cheaper replacement batteries for this kid next time.

Happy birthday child unit three

Yes baby girl. You're five!

I'm not dead yet

I've got what feels like a crushing schedule of things to get done, sprinkled with last minute requests from the children. It's all ok though. A lot of one-of things. It's the long term stuff, like grocery shopping and folding of laundry that are such suck holes of time.

Happy belated M-day to the women of the world. In all capacities, I see all women as needing to be marked that day in that we all take care of the world and it's members. Don't be too concerned gents, your day comes next month, and you'll probably get better weather for it too.

So, on this end of things, I'm taking a break from the laundry (the mountain is heaped on the kitchen table), and I'm pseudo supervising Child Unit 2 who is making cookies for a after-school spa event, where the girls are going to do each others nails, and put yoghurt on their faces and eat cookies. Pretty empowering stuff. I wish I did that at my after school program. I roughly remember learning to do cross-titch unsupervised. Oh the thrills!

Once I get that unit off to la la land, I'll start in on the laundry, and maybe the French again. Yes, again. Though I passed 2/3rds of the exam, I keep missing the written part by just a few points. 4 points the first time for a pass, 3 points for the second time. I figure I just need to do the exam four more times and I'll get my B-levels ;-).

So, I'm around, just a bit buried. How are you doing?

Amuse you

If you're in the area, the vernisage is May 2 from 2-5!

Delinquants are us

Oh hell, it's been a whole week since I've last posted. It's not like I've been sitting around twittling my thumbs though.

The weather's been crap and I've been trying to work around that. My attitude has matched the weather, though, thanks to Xup I've finallly shaken the ridiculous Spring cold.

In between I've been wearing out my Keds.

In my part-time job, I've lined up three exhibitions of my photography. All for the month of May. Talk about raining and pouring.

I've also been trying to work through the issues of a neighbor who equates garden boxes with increased grade on the yard which might flood the basement when it rains ...

Then there are a couple of committee meetings that are having activities that are coming to fruition, for which I need to actually show up, and or do something, then there is making plans to check out the Women in Business trade show, the Parkdale Church Spring rummage sale (that's ALWAYS worth a trolling through), running kids to their perspective Saturday morning haunts and jaunts, as well as some tag-team kid care with a neighbor so that she can have some quality time with herself.

And I can't forget the ill fated French writing exam that I have to repeat. (Apparently trying to learn French makes me angry. Is that a surprise? I like to think so. I just thought it was the real me!)

Mix this all up in a big red bowl and add a tich of a job interview (for The Huz, not me, not yet), planning a couple of birthday parties (one is a surprise party for an 11 year old), a newly-teenaged boy who smells way to "spicy" for his own good, and winning tickets from J, life feels like it's headed for a worm hole! But in a good way.

I wouldn't be Canadian if

I wouldn't be Canadian if I didn't complain about the weather.

I've had a freaking head/sinus/allergy attack for what feels like three months. Last weekend I was hoping to set out the hammock, wrap myself up in a blanket, and let the child-units go free range while I bake in the sun and burn off the infection and soak up some vitamin D.

But NooooOOOooooo. Freaking wind was drawing a cooler wind off the water and I had visions of pulling out the itchy red woolen underwear again.

It was only by 4:30 Monday afternoon that it had warmed up enough for me to pull out a plastic lawn chair and sit, facing the mud-trodden space of yard that I dream will some day be a romantic garden space lush with flowers and vegetables to watch as the child-units trudged and trampled and packed the earth down just a bit firmer. I love my garden elves. Pack away dear ones, the garden is there for you to enjoy too.

Sigh. Child hood. There are several days where I wish I could go back and do some things over again.

Things I learned Easter weekend

We have rats.


Wine and laundry are an excellent combination.


If you can't find the youngest child unit, CHECK THE BEDS!

I also learned:

• Helman's Salad Spritzers CAN be used as a pre-tanning application. It gives such a glorious yellow pre-glow to skin.
  
  
• Bumps on the chest of an adolescent girl do not automatically mean she's got Cancer. (Yes, that was a pre-wine jump to conclusion when the said child mentioned it.)

Finally, happy Easter from Child Unit 4. (It was a busy day.)

Exactly

Chicks with sticks

That's my CU-2 there at our local community centre during the Spring opening of ball hockey!

She didn't know she could do it! I say "Tu veux, tu peux!"

You go girl!

Playing house

Child Unit 2 and our surrogate son from down the street play nicely together, most of the time. As all things do, sometimes democratic relations break down, and feelings are hurt. Today wasn't one of them.

Today, something got into them and they decided that they wanted to clean. I found it rather odd, but went along with it as far as I could take it.

They started off by clearing supper dishes. (Horray!)

Then there was washing them by hand! (We do have a dish washer.) (Another horray!)

When that was all done, they were still looking for things to wash. Turning to my left, nothing great there. Turning to my right, I spied a cat. Well, not any cat. THE cat. THE bitchy one who's meow sounds painful, guttural. Like she's going to hork up her stomach with every cry. She's sitting there, just staring at me.

Remember the close up of the Principal's eyes in Feris Bueller's Day Off when he's on the bus? I had that moment.

"Um, you could wash the cat!"

The child units perk up. "What's that? We can wash the cat?"

"Yah. Take Purr. She's not been doing a good job on herself lately."

Ca-ching. Pay back time.

And off they trot with her, after negotiating what tub they can bathe her in.

-- insert evil grin here --

Time passes ... about seven whole minutes ... followed by children thumping down the stairs

A dry cat skips up and sits on the desk to my right.

"Hey. What's this. She's back already?"

"Yah. She wouldn't stay in the bath tub."

"Nice try kids. Let me know when you need her again to dress her up in doll clothes!"

Like I said - it's pay back.

I've dropped off the face of the earth

"So, so long and thanks for all the fish" she said as she drifted over the side.

The way things are going, those might be the last words ever heard from me.

Between my exam-driven insomnia, which is resulting in a tremendously short fuse, I'm starting to fantasize in some of the scenarios that I get to discuss in my French class. If you were stranded on a desert island ... wouldn't that be wonderful right about now. Oh. Is that pause too long. I guess I drifted ... I kind of woke myself up when the drool puddled on my shirt. That lucid dreaming is going a bit too far.

Since I last checked in, I got a lot of shit stuff done. (CU-2 doesn't want me to be using language like that around the younger ones! Ooops.)

This last week was one of the quieter weeks I've had in the month of March. Looking ahead to April, it looks quiet on the week days. Stupid on the weekends though. (The Huz is co-teaching his final CPR classes before he can hang out his own shingle. I'm scheduled for not one, but two strategic meetings for two different organizations, plus a day-long workshop on kids on the ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) range, and to boot, it's in French.

Better be eating my Wheaties!

Then there's Spring. And I see the freaking mud in the yard and I think about sneaking out at 3 in the morning to go and play in the mud and build raised garden beds and prepare the earth for I don't know what, because, if anything is like last summer, I went to my parent's cottage for three weeks during the height of the season and the skunks got my vegetables.

I promise myself this year will be different. I'll be successful to raise peas and lettuces and tomatoes. I won't be taking three weeks off straight (I have that week in December where I am needed at home after all) and something will sort it self out for child care so everyone's needs are cared for.

And then, there's part of a conversation I've had with PC about going back to drawing, and I mean really going back to drawing - not just the sketches I've been trying to work on based on her tutorials.

And the triggers of pangs of needing my own work space after reading an article from Meg Ruffman, actress-come-carpenter and tv-based handiwoman. And the pile of cardboard that I saw destined for the landfile outside the Timmy's down town. I know I could do something with it. I just need a place to stash the stuff and a space to sit down and draw and design.

I'm holding onto that illusion for now, at least. Or, maybe I can squelsh the feelings I've got for a while longer. I've got stuff to do that pays the bills.

my letter is C

Needing a kick in the back of my chair, I asked Jen to send me a letter for this meme from Small Town Mom. Name 10 things I like, all beginning with the letter she assigned me: C.

Maybe because it's been a rough week, (pre-teen kids can be soooooooooooo moody!), interrupted sleep, and general life in this nutty house, I'm feeling the need to wrap myself in cotton wool and think of a few of my favorite things. (This post was actually started sometime LAST weekend!)

1. Candy - actually sugar in it's nicest and refined sense. Like in cakes, and cookies and candy corn. But then, that's not a particularly interesting fact because I think most people share a similar love of sugar.

2. Carol - This happens to be the name (with variant spellings) of many important people in my life. My mother-in-law happens to top the list. I'm going public and outing myself with this news. I really like my mother-in-law. Man, am I lucky too. I know of a parcel of people who have mother-in-laws that are difficult. She's my go-to girl when things get difficult.

3. C-levels - what I'd actually like to obtain when I write my French exams next week. C = B+ to A range. An E means you're exempt from ever having to write the tests again. EVER. I've seen studying, since September, just to get my B levels! (That's the equivalent of a C to a B- in a university level course.)

4. Curls - I've got amazing curly hair. It's a cross between a Jew-fro and a poodle. As a kid, I kind of ignored my hair. As an adult, I've fought with it, wanted to divorce it, chemically straightened the life out of it, and have now come to accept that I need to get a Bishon Friezé when I'm older, just so that we're fashionable and match.

5. Cancun - or some where equally warm. My sister just came back from the Grand Cayman Islands and writes of a glorious week of scuba diving and lolling on the beach in 28 degree Celcius weather. I'm kind of jealous of that. Then again, she lives further North and deserves a break from the ice and snow jams she faces 10 months of the year.

6. Cripes! This exercise isn't as easy I thought it would be when I asked Jen for the letter for the meme. It's taken me the better part of a week to get this far. And, to support this entry, I like the word cripes. I don't say it out loud very often and seeing it written, it reminds me of my childhood when real swearing, like we hear these days, was less fashionable.

7. Contemporary - I've fallen in love with the home style. Growing up, I used to love Connecticut Loyalist for home styling. Now that I've hit my middle age (I'm assuming I'm at the top of the heap now and everything else is just headed for the great retreat), my tastes in food and in housing has changed considerably. I now love the sleek, monastic lines of contemporary houses like Jens, or those I find in Dwell magazine (I have such a crush on this mag!). It's not like I'm ever going to live in a house like that, or that mine will change. (The Huz likes country styling, so we've compromised somewhere in the middle, to 1970s-self-storage-unit chic.)

8. Cartoons - love 'em. The original Bugs Bunny show. Calvin & Hobbes. Archie. (I think I still have a speudo-crush on Jug Head.) I still buy Archies now and again for Child Unit 1 on the expressed condition that he lends them to me afterward.

9. Community - I heart mine in a BIG way. Could it be the walkability. The culturual centre? Not just. It's the people. There's just something about the people that live in and around this place. I like 'em and they make this a place worth living in.

10. To paraphrase the great Cookie Monster - C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me. And C is for oatmeal-raisin cookie dough that I'm too lazy to finish baking, so I've packed some raw dough in my lunch box for tomorrow. Maybe I'll get around to baking the last of the cookies tomorrow night. Or maybe I'll just make a new batch. The chocolate chips are calling to me!

Oh cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C.

Gone, but not forgotten

That'd be my brain, not me.

I'm still here. In body. Mostly.

After surviving the ridiculously over-scheduled first three weeks of March (including March break madness), things are calming down a bit. I actually have nothing scheduled for any other evening this week until Friday night! Woo hoo. (Tonight The Huz did stand-on duty as parental supervision/bouncer/Girl Guide Cookie toughie, so I was the point person for child wrangling.)

I hope to get back to my regular rounds of lurking and occasionally posting on other people's blogs this week, as tonight I've cleared through almost all of my residual paperwork that comes with household and volunteering duties.

For those of you following the French training fracas, I'm down to one week before I write the comprehension and grammar exams. Nine days to the oral exam.

Over at Nat's place, her main squeeze goes for the poking and prodding tomorrow. This is possibly the only time in one's life where a person actually wants to get a "C" on their exam. J'envoie des pensées positives, en français !! (Merci babelfish!)

Dinner

At one point in time I tried to make fudge. It didn't turn out well. (It got a bit rolled and then squeezed, so when I went to present it to the recipient, it kind of looked like a poo sample.)

Tonight, The Huz prepared dinner and topped fudgy attempts. He decided he wanted to take a Citizen's recipe that they'd showcased last week out for a test drive. He bought some unsuspecting round steak that he marinated and bundled overnight. It was in the oven, under covers before I ever got to see it.

When I did, it made a lasting impression on me. In the dish, I wasn't sure if it was an animal's penis or a rope of shit. Seriously. And be thankful that I didn't take a picture of it. (I had to have him mash it up for me before I sat down for dinner.)

And, even before eating it, I told him he was never to use the recipe again.

On a more funner note, The Huz teased me with a post about a 5-minute, microwavable cake.

So, being the good experimentor I am, I let two of the kids loose in the kitchen while I tried to take another through the deep hells of homework.

It turned out rather ok, though the complaint was that it was too much and too dry. I picked at it afterwards. If you have a real hankering for cake and have some ice cream, or amazing coffee around, it might be worth a shot.

Here's the recipe:

5 minute cake

• coffee mug


• 4 tablespoons flour


• 4 tablespoons sugar


• 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa


• 1 egg


• 3 tablespoons milk


• 3 tablespoons oil

In the mug, mix all the dry ingredients, then add the egg, milk and oil.

Put in the microwave for 5 minutes.

Watch as the cake crests (oooh, ahhh). No need to panic. It will collapse after the heat is done.

Eat.

How to take care of a run away juvenile delinquent!

Nightly, supervised walks!

















That stops him in his tracks!

I am so behind

I think I'm first. Especially with blogging about happy, sunny, fun subjects.

I went to an organized breakfast on Saturday, for local bloggers, and realized how much a whiner I really am. It seems that this spot actually becomes the last spot for me to just drop the bomb when everything else has already unraveled.

I am so sorry to my five (or fewer readers) that I've lost my whit or any ability to say anything remotely interesting.

It was during the breakfast, while whining to Zoom about my not liking my kids, that she asked me why I had them if I felt that way. My only answer was that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I've given extensive further thought to this. I didn't ask for these kids. When I looked in the catalog, I asked for the well behaved, pre-molded, academically competent good ones that they showed on the cover. At least, that's what I thought I want. I didn't expect to get:

THE DIVA
A too soon to be teenager, who's got learning and social issues that put him in the range of maybe a ten year old. And that's a maybe. I don't know were his learning/social issues end and being a boy starts. (Grandma Tim suggests that a lot of what I'm going through is just boy shit.)

His choice to distance himself from the rest of the family doesn't help because I tend to leave him alone way to long (my opinion, not his) and he's falling between the cracks, 'cause he's not demonstrative they way his sibs are.

THE FAVORITE
This is my academically successful pre-teen who has everything - brains, beauty, can sing, can dance, can act, and is just the tiniest bit under-motivated. She expects things to just drop into her lap as she's capable of batting eye lashes and manipulating people into doing and getting things for her (kind of like her bio-dad). She pulls one hell of a huff when some one actually pushes back and says no. (Her tantrums are nothing compared to the next one though.)

This kid is the easy kid. Very very likeable. She gets elected to do the fun stuff with others (like when some one wants to go shopping) in place of me because she's fun and agreeable most of the time. She's got good social skills and is highly communicative. Everyone who meets her remembers her for good manners.

THING 3
When I'm mad, or irrasable, I refer to my children as Thing 1, 2, 3 and 4. We're having a bad night tonight with Thing 3. She had a fun day out at a birthday party. Came home. Got to have a TV dinner (dinner in front of the TV watching Ace of Cakes) and then went out for a walk. When we got to Bridgehead (near our original destination), she started spouting off about wanting one of their amazing cookies. Although I can sympathize with her, the answer was no. I'd baked today. Pretty freaking amazing chocolate chip cookies, I think, and she could have those at home. The tantrum starts. We get her home in one piece, thanks to my surrogate son (the kid who lives down the street and has almost moved in with us because of his regular prescence in our home). At home she starts up again. The Huz actually put his foot down. She decided to do what she does best, push the envelope. She took a cookie and stuffed it into her pie hole.


We had a similar issue last week where she decided to whine at me for the time it took for her to leave the school and hit Giant Tiger. I told her she had a choice between whining or eating her snack that we'd just got. (Chocolate is very cheap and very fresh at GT.) She whined her response. You can see where this is going.

At home, while putting away the groceries, I remarked to The Huz that I couldn't find the chocolate I'd paid for. He said that Thing 3 had asked if she could throw out the wrapper in our garbage can in our bathroom (hide the evidence). There was much shrieking and gnashing of teeth and all-in-all, it resulted in one of the toughest penalties I've handed out yet.



The Huz sends Thing 3 to bed. The cycle begins. Thowing herself into full physical tantrum and shrieking, The Huz tags off on me. (Thing 4 has already done damage to him - back strain.) The look of terror that comes across her face when I give her the look. "I want Daaaadddyyyyyy!" is repeated over and over and over again while I giver her options of walking or being hauled up the stairs over the shoulder, fireman style. She's no longer such a small thing and me getting pitched backwards down the stairs is becoming a reality. Doesn't help when she holds onto the railings. Daaaadddyyyyy comes up behind me for reinforcement and pries off her curled fingers from the railing.

Upstairs, she's deposited in her bedroom, where she kicks out her legs under her, doing a hell of a lot more harm then I could do. She's peeled from her day clothes, all the while screaming "I'll listen." (We actually do give her chances to change into her jammies by herself, or with help. It really doesn't help our side of things because she starts back into the broken record about wanting what ever got her into trouble in the first place.)

Teeth are brushed and fingers are pointed to the bed. That we've all suffered through the change of day light savings and it is her bedtime seem to be pointless.

Doors are closed as a period to end the sentence of the day. Eventually things do quite down. Not without a lot of reassurance that tomorrow is a clean slate and we'll start again then.

THING 4
AKA the juvenile delingent? How about the runaway? At just 2, I'm getting a taste for what to expect later on I guess.

Last night the mother-ship was over giving The Favorite a bit of one-on-one time. They spent part of the day cleaning up Favorite's room (what'd I tell you about the manipulative side of things?) and deciding that because she wasn't happy with her bedding, maybe she should get some new stuff. (Eyes rolling here. New? OMG, I can't remember the last time I bought brand new bedding! It's usually more of the new-to-me kind.)

Post-dinner hour, I was getting the tour of the After, being all too well familiar with the Before. I get a call from The Huz: is Thing 4 upstairs? A quick check. Nope. What's up? He's not downstairs either. WTF?!

The Huz runs onto the back porch and sees a 2 1/2 foot thing bobbing down the street. After assuring himself that it wasn't the racoon, he calls back up to me to say we've got a runner. I skim over the 11 stairs, body check The Huz as I get out the back door. He's still trying to pull on footwear. Silly man. Why do you think I'm always wearing some kind of appropriate for outdoors footwear?!

I run like a Clidesdale with bad bladder control issue down the street. It's dark and he's on the wrong side of the street, outside of the lamp range. I still reach Thing 4 before The Huz does, though he's not far behind. Unbelievably, Thing 4 is completely dressed for the occassion. Boots, polar fleece and a coat. (The polar fleece is overkill - it was still quiet warm out from the day.)

The Favorite has followed out of the house. Did I say before that she's also known as the responsible one? Diva is clueless. Thing 3 is already in bed, we hope asleep. The Huz carries Thing 4 home. I change.

Life goes back to its regular rythm.

Pick a day, any day and add to this mix anything something different. I don't know head licem, a municipal bus strike, general illnesses, weather, school issues, a non-responsive co-parenting household, aging parents, language training, day light saving time, Spring.

Hi. My name is Mirigo and I have a <> problem.

I feel that I could have managed three ok. Possibly with fewer problems. Four is what I've got now. When the older kids are more functional, it'll probably be ok. Right now it's rough. It's been a rough winter. And I'm a whiner. At least I've got my own blog ;-).

Self-doubt

I think it comes with the territory, self-doubt does. Or, at least comes with the season.

I've been going through a rough patch between parenting, and work and pursuing my passion for photography. A lot of questions and few answers. Seems I'm not alone. I don't mind. I actually enjoy the company ;-)

Funny thing that - that self-doubt. While I was roaming around, void of adult company this past weekend, I was having a conversation in my head about canning my now multi-year initiative of showing my work through the display space I created in my home. I guess I'd stirred up enough of something that, that same day, not but an hour or two later, I got an unexpected visit from three septuagenarians who were looking for MY gallery space.

They were early (I usually have the house tidied for visitors, and baking in the oven by 2 o'clock). I had borscht on the boil. Not the cookies I'd been planning. They came. I babbled, at a loss this weekend for words. My head so far stuck in a pity-me hole that I wasn't prepared. We had a very short visit.

They weren't planning to by anything. We chatted about the February show that was about to be flipped. She pointed to the middle one.

How much? Hmm. Well. Framed ... yes, it's much more expensive. Let me show you what it looks like. Yes. Yes. I recommend their services. They do such a nice job.

Unframed? Yes. Ok. Take it now? Just a minute. Let me find an envelope.

I was buoyed for most of the rest of the day while I sat on my news that I'd closed the deal.

Photography is a hard sell in Ottawa. And I did it.

Maybe I should keep things going a little longer ...

WANTED! My sense of humor back

OMG. I grew up with the expression "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

This is the 21st century though, and we've got People magazine and Perez Hilton. So we can through that adage out the window.

Which actually brings me to the point. I've been finding it much much easier to skulk around other people's blogs lately then to keep the whitisms up on that one 'cause I'm feeling a bit stressed, possibly a bit more then usual. Maybe. Or maybe this is just my natural state, and I'm actually up to date with all my paperwork for a change so now I've got time to look at the heaps of everything else that I've neglected, instead of using those activities to distract me from stuff I didn't want to do.

Maybe.

Reading Nat's, Allison's and PC's blogs have given me reason to pause and find solstice in the blogging sisterhood. Last week I had a dental incident that still runs under par to what PC experienced, though kind of mimics the tone.

Earlier this week, I was advised that my office would be moving (a la Allison) to an inside channel (no windows, no longer) and that it would be cut in size to about half, or smaller. (Really no big deal on that one, as I felt I had a bit too much space to begin with. There are other issues that go with it though, including being partnered to sit next to the same colleague for the last five years. I really would like a change.) And then there's the whole change anxiety that Nat speaks of. All my change is happening while on French training. I get to come backto a changed/smaller office, possibly different duties and FRENCH TESTS at the beinging of April.

Meanwhile, I have yet to find some one who's transitioning children in school (I've got one going into secondary school, and one transitioning to the pre-preschool program); toilet training woes; any one dealing with another bout of "faux amis" (aka head lice); cabin fever nope - sorry - Jen's got that one covered - I too am looking at garden porn and dreaming of fresh dirt; and general anxieties for the five with whom I share my abode.

I think I need a drink. Thank goodness Mike's got that one covered!

Spring must be around the corner!

I saw the first really signs of Spring, and no it wasn't the red, red robin, who came bob, bob, bobbin along.

It was in Tony's Shoe Repair window!Tony's starting his tomato plans! Woo hoo! Spring can't be that far away now!!

No place is safe any more

I should have known that there is now no place that is considered a safe zone in my house when Child Unit 4 piled into bed between The Huz and me with his bag of marshmallows. I guess he don't need no stink'n security blanket! He's going hard core.

The change

I keep telling every one who will listen: "in six weeks everything will be better".

In six weeks we'll be in April. The weather should turn to be so much nicer. No winter shoes. No sneakers. No hats. All put away for another whole six months. Just long enough for me to start considering this paraphernalia is quaint.

In six weeks, the first of my four child units will officially become a teenager.

In six weeks, I might just put in my order for garden seeds.

In six weeks, I'll get a new haircut and go from looking like Lorne Elliot (the resemblance is uncanny sometimes) to more like Lyle Lovett.

In six weeks, I should be done my French language training. (I so hope to small gawds that I am. I'm so freaking overloaded, there are days I barely know my name.)

In six week, my soon-to-be-teenaged-child-unit's high school should be decided, and we should all be on the happy road to preparing a transition plan.

In six week, I will have a significantly lessened bout of cabin fever which is resulting in an extremely trigger happy fuse that goes off when there is any sort of vibration near me.

In six weeks, I'll be six weeks older, six weeks wiser.

Right now I'm trying to enjoy the minutes that are before me. I'm trying to be conscious of the my needs, even though it's soooooo much easier to help some one else out. It feels better and more fulfilling to project outwards, then inwards. It's a matter of course.

Valentine's SWAG

I'm almost post Valentines.

The hand-offs went ok. (I only saw the results of one of the kids, because the other two drop off into the abiss.

The SWAG that CU-3 came home with! OMG, you'd have thought it was Hallowe'en or Christmas or something.

I only did the paper maché heart thingy because CU-2 asked. (I've learned my lesson about volunteering my "talents"!) And still, the exercise wasn't without it's pains.

I like the other ideas you came up with - like Bliss suggestion to take the offending child out for a coffee, and try the old bait and switch, though, every time I do this type of project I think of some of the things you've done ... does Goldilocks ring a bell?

Jen, I don't know. Sometimes I think it's bribary.

Nat, if I could have found Scoobie cards, I'd have gone that way. I've got a varied collection of past partially used boxes of Valentine's - Calliou, Blues Clues, general bi-lingual animal ones, and my all time favorites the ones that depict wrestling sensation The Rock. (And I quote "Roses are red, violets are blue, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. Happy Valentine's Day.")

I'm trying to coax the children to choose from these cards. Funny that the 12 year old won't choose Calliou eh? But he picked them out when he was four!!

What I do for love

I think I need an intervention ...


= Three nights of effort + paste encrusted fingers + wrecked "new" jeans + multiple grey hairs

to finally get this:

for 19. And that's for ONE of the kid's classes.

And I kept wondering why I wasn't sleeping well.

Weird

Ok. First day on the buses. Very weird feeling. The buses are almost empty. Very weird feeling. The Huz is on his new schedule and gets home before I do. Very weird feeling. I'm beginning to feel frustrated in my job again. Also very weird feeling.

That last one might just be a result of looking at this ad, except I have yet to daydream about punching small animals:

A site for sore feet

We have bus service! Finally.

I almost feel the same way when I get to put away my winter coat in Spring.

Influence

It's kind of neat to realize when you have influence over your children.

Today two things happened with CU-3 of which she self-reported. The first is that another little girl at school was feeling sad and was missing her mother. CU-3 went up to her and said "Cry. It's good for you." (That's definitely a me-ism).

The second one was tonight, while I was chasing the Hell-child all over the house (as he run buck naked too!), I'd made a comment about how I was unhappy about their shared room. When I came back, the floor was clear. CLEAR! (I almost fell to my knees and wept with joy). I look over at CU-3 sitting on her bed. She looks back at me and say "The cleaning fairies did it."

It's not much. It sure helped my evening go better. Maybe five will be a good year for us all.

Stages

The Huz reports that there are several distinct stages of putting Child Unit 4 to bed.

Stage 1: Denial
Includes massive bouts of denial, both verbal, and physical, including acts of wiggling and wriggling which, perhaps only a sumo wrestler could match.

Stage 2: Playing Possum
Includes closing his eyes, biding his time, waiting ... waiting for YOU to make the first move, usually out of bed.

Stage 3: Second wind
Includes crying to get you back for more attention, and attempts to break the sleep hold, but as a result of low coordination because he is tired, results are awkward and ends in a tightened grip of covers wrapped around him.

Stage 4: Submission
Includes marks of statue eyes (eyes rolling back into his head), and deeper breathing patterns, though, occasionally can be confused with Stage 2. Any attempts to leave at this stage results in Parental Whiplash, crying and throwing of covers.

Stage 5: Success
This stage is marked by regular deep breathing patterns and parental freedom. Any attempts to leave at this stage are successful.

Still working on that love list

In the meantime, here's a pop quiz. Can you tell the difference?

My anti-love list

Day 48 of the bus strike.

Balmy -25 degree weather.

French training.

Husband who pretends he's listening, then asks me a question directly related to what I just said to him.

Pre-adolescence.

Potty training.

Any time any one any where says "Oh oh."

Feeling that I'm in over my head. (I've joined a group and offered to be the Board Secretary. I've been getting a deluge of emails since. I'm wondering what the krunk I got myself into now!)

Maybe tomorrow I'll be in a better place and can post a love list. Any suggestions to get that one started?

Fall out

The fall out from the Terror Child's activities have finally been noticed, though I don't know that I really can call it fall out, more like a like sprinkling Spring shower.

CU-1: "Heh, who took my candy box out."

Me: "I don't know CU-1. I found it downstairs."

CU-1: Looks at me suspiciously.

Me: "Did you check out your locker? Do you see what was there?*"

CU-1 paddles off.

The end.

*At Christmas, CUs-3 and 4 got into his other Christmas candy, which I said I'd replace, which I did, finally.

Terror child update

These are of the Terror Child, in better times.

Funny, the side effects of the chocolate. It was the easiest evening in over two weeks that he went to bed with much less of a fuss.

Tonight it's back to the usual shenanigans and the running of the stairs. (The Huz is going to have a back side that can crack walnuts by the end of this.)

Living in this house should come with a WARNING

I've repeatedly told my children that they signed a contract at birth. They claim they don't remember. I tell them, that's their problem, not mine.

For example, when one child provokes the other, and I'm in my did-I-really-sign-up-for-this-I-can't-recall-doing-so moods, I'll tell the warring children that it's in their contract to annoy one another. Usually that brings a break in the proceeding, long enough for them to get distracted and leave one another alone.

Apparently my contract says that I'll have a steel-trap mind for stuff that lies around our home. Not a particularly useful super power until you get the desperate call at work from The Huz who's channeling an equally desperate kid who can't find his or her mittens-lunch-box-home-work-glasses-socks-shoe-favorite-lucky pencil.

I have to say I think it's really sad that I've got a response for him like "check the laundry room shelf on the right hand side, left side of that shelf, in the green bin, at the back, under the cotton wads). It's very sad.

Alas, it's not these common place occurrences that have triggered today's entry. No. I wish it were. It has more to do with siblings getting into places they're probably not supposed to be going into.

Take this evidence, for example:
When The Huz went upstairs for the eighth time this evening to try to put the Terror Child to bed, The Huz found chocolates, partially consumed, apparently not being of the liking of the immediate consumer.

This was never his box of chocolates to consume. The greater problem isn't trying to scrape the child off the wall after having consumed sugar, it's having to deal with the sibling to whom the box of chocolates belongs who isn't here to deal with the immediate disappointment.

Even more regrettable is that the child on the loosing end already had another candy stash broken into.

So here's my problem. Do I try to guess the number of chocolates post-consumed and replace those? Do I hide the box and pray to small gawds that he doesn't notice the box is missing? Do I even confess what the sibling did? Oh the choices.

That's minus honey!

Taken from inside the kitchen this morning at about 7:30 a.m.

A short post on anti-social vegetables

Perpetual Chocoholic (who's running a very good tutorial on drawing) guessed correctly about my reference to anti-social vegetables in the previous post. So here's the short version of the back story.

I've been working very hard to try to reduce, reuse and recycle (mostly ME). So that means many more vegetables and the like. For some, vegetables are a great thing. In our house, they're the anti-social element of the house and it kind of goes like this:

I make a modified version of the cabbage salad (aka known as a party salad or a chinese salad or the like). It's pretty good. Feeling peckish, and watching the Food Network (not a great combination), I serve myself a serving ... then another ... and then The Huz joins me. He's the one that kind of started the conversation. After he finished his serving, he said "oh, my body's not going to like me in the morning" to which I corrected him "No. Your colleagues at work won't like you."

So, the next day it was Pizza night in our house, and we've put on a ban of potty talk at the table (at my mother's request). I was talking about the great salad, that kind of had miserable side effects and refered to them as "the anti-social vegetables".

And dang, they sure are yummy.

Monday love list

Oh so many good things happen when so many bad things are going on. In a week we'll have an Obama-nation (and I consider that a good thing)!

Stealing the idea from Meg, here's today's love list:

• snow
• snow storms
• music I can sing too (AND remember the lyrics to)
• having a light bulb moment
• hair after it's been outside in the cold
• surprise rebate cheques
• boxes that come in the mail
• French class, especially when it's heavy with boy humor
• anti-social vegetables
  

Things I love a bit less

• hypocrites
• head lice
• dirtied diapers
• people parking haphazardly
• endless house cleaning
  

I guess locuses are next

As if I don't have enough to do, I was greeted by two members of the after-school staff asking me if I received the telephone call they'd apparently placed to me this afternoon.

It all started with itching.

Itching and small children are NOT a good thing.

I am so thankful for sympathetic teachers too, and heavy chemical shampoos, that don't do that much good, except possibly let me sleep tonight thinking that I've got a start on things.

Yes. We've got a wild case of head lice in at least two of the kids. I'll be checking the other two Friday, when they come home, because their father is usually in complete denial about things.

Hey PC, just to let you know, you've trained me well.

Nights like this, I ask "why me".

I so wish I was talking about the bear

Poo, not Pooh.

There. I said it.

A result of popular demand (yes, can you imagine I have had people say I should blog about this?) I'm am writing about Child-Unit 4's toilet training successes and failures. And, no, there won't be any pictures to go along with this story (only because they came out too blurry to post).

So, from this point on be warned. This is not a cutsie post about fluffy kittens and puppies. You probably want that anyway, then the stories that follow. Back track and click the link now, unless of course, you're a Mom, a former Mom, or a maybe a recovering Mom that needs to get over a baby sniffing addiction! ;-)

Toilet training the last of the family lineage has been, um, a treat. I'm told these stories I will be able to look back on and laugh off in a few years.

I don't think I can wait that long.

Toilet training, in earnest, started December 26.

After CU-4 received training underpants for Christmas (he was VERY excited Christmas morning when he opened the box, pulled them out and started jumping up and down saying "Bunny! Bunny! Bunny!") we warned him his diapering days were almost over.

Hour upon hour we trotted him back and forth to the toilet. For the most part, mostly misses. Occasionally he'd tease us, or our timing would be good enough and he'd relax and dribble into the toilet. Yeh! One for us. But those stories don't make for an interesting read. Oh no. I'm about to tell you three true stories:

#1 - the near miss
CU-4 was put on the toilet and The Huz got distracted, mumbled something to me about "boy" and "toilet" as he passed. I didn't think much of it until CU-3 started howling for me to come and see what CU-4 did. And there it was in all it's glory. About three feet from where it's final resting place should have been. That's when I got the camera out and throughly lost my "good parenting" points.

#2 - making the rounds
Since construction of the new part of the house last year, we've been re-blessed with having an extra two commodes added to our formerly humble abode. We'd started the training in the powder room (also know as A----a's bathroom - named after a former neighbour-child who used the facilities at g-r-e-a-t length). However, because of a hockey play-off with Canada and the Russians, CU-4 and his equipment was moved to the en suite, which was closer to the front room and the TV. It was at this location that the second story takes place.

While folding laundry, CU-4 was playing nicely with others, and occasionally amusing himself, though generally staying out of trouble until I see him skip past me for the third time.

After the first two times it didn't really click in that he'd been coming out of my bedroom, on the back loop, empty handed. (On my behalf I'll say I've been very under the weather during the holiday season.) The second pass I *think* he had a wooden toy figurine of a giraffe. The third pass through was with a Duplo block square. (I'd missed the original foray, it turns out. THAT was a piece of train track.) My gut suspicions were triggered. I'd followed him into the bathroom, yelling for support just in case I had to have a confrontation or an intervention.

Sigh. I caught him just after he'd flushed.

Oh, I probably shouldn't mention that earlier that day The Huz had caught him, em, testing the waters in that facility for potability. Ew ew ew ew ew. (Grandma Tim tells me that most children have done this at one time or another. Still, ew.)

#3 - the sink incident
The Huz is doing his regular rounds putting the CUs to bed. I get the bellow to hurry and hurry hard (I love curling terms, they're so cute!) The Huz was upset because it looked like CU-4 had done something to clog the toilet and it had backed-up into the sink.

Upon closer investigation, The Huz concluded that CU-4 had taken a sample and decided to wash his hands of it in the sink. (Update: Upon further reflection, The Huz believes that it may have just been a soil sample taken from one of the resident bathroom cacti, though the jury is still out on that one.)

#4 - the bonus story
First day back on our regular schedule, the CU fairs ok, not leaving anything behind when trying out his care giver's toilet, and sliding things in on the sly, during nap time. She instructs me to put him right on the toilet when we get home, which I do. Too late. The cold weather has already triggered a response. Ok, so we start again.

Every hour CU-4 is coaxed to park. Nothing as far as I can tell.

During the last park-and-ride, I'm trying to multitask and verify I've got sufficient ingredients to run a batch of cookies through when I hear the scream of the howler monkey. The last time CU-4 had reacted this way, I found him with one foot in the toilet bowl, and on point, kind of like a ballerina warming up at the bar. (Apparently he was trying to get off.) No such luck this time. For either of us.

No, this time he'd took care of business and all the formalities. He'd peed on his business twice. TWICE!

Cripes. Now how do I end a blog entry like this eh? Perhaps with a grateful sigh that we're done for today and with a big thank you to small gods that I got into a Mr. Clean 2-for-1 sale!