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.