Grey mornings, grey days

It's snowing outside. Soft fluffy flakes. I love days like this. From my place in our study/computer room, if I lean back, I can see out the kitchen window watching the lazy decent of these delicious flakes. I'm hoping for big storms this year. Ones that close schools, block satellite reception, force people home.

I have such a strong memory of my Mom and me going out one evening, during a white-out type snow storm, walking to our local book store (who was still open!) to pick up a book that'd come in for her. I remember the car that fish-tailed behind us, honky in surprise, at the two figures walking in the middle of the road because the sidewalks hadn't been cleared yet.

I can't say that stores are going to stay open late for me and my daughters to ever do that again (that was the benefit of living in a smaller community). I'd like the opportunity to see if one would though, even if it's just Seven-Eleven.

Still working on stupid

Jonathan posted the challenge word last Friday. Stupidity. Good gawd, I think I could write a novel on the subject, but then most people could. Mine would be full of self-deprecation, but then most people's would too.

So, I'm just going to touch on a point that Steph commented about in her entry for BlogFriday: "Love makes you stupid." Eh-men (sic) to that!

When I married my life-spark, I got stupid, and it's a good thing. My stupidity has to do with learning to let go and trust again. I learned that I didn't have to control every spec of dust that was going to fall on the shelf. I didn't have to control the child-units' every move. I didn't have to be completely responsible for household management. I could share the load.

I got stupid and I love it.

I stopped needing to know how to adjust the VCR timer every time the thing got reset. I stopped needing to know how to sort out all the laundry into proper piles so that everything is not an Orwellian shade of grey. I stopped and let the care and affection of a really nice guy come in and take the place of a whole lot of hurt.

My stupidity means I'm healing.

I like that.

Thanks Jonathan for helping me remember that stupidity can be a good thing.

Where has this weekend gone?

Just finished doing my rounds of other people's blogs, catching up with their lives. Wish I could catch up with mine. Even though I've been off for the last 10 months being the primary care giver to CU-4, I feel like I'm still in the rhythm of my regular work week. Weekends come and there's just a different pace.

Saturday's are the usual run about to get at least one child to his/her event (this week was child-lite week, so there was just the one CU to run), though we did do a collective viewing of all the CUs, merely by chance. CU-1 was at his art class (hell has frozen over! and DXH takes him to this event at least), where I dropped off some Ginger Sparkler cookies that I said I'd make. CU-2 was a the drug store with DXH, where I was doing a drug run for our sickly CU-4.

It's been a rough week for him. Flu shot seems to have some back-kick to it as he's got heavy flu-like symptoms. However, I'm not sure that he's got the flu. He's also got some big chompers coming down. Oh, and let's not forget about the bout of suspected Pink Eye we were treating him for. On top of that, there seemed to be a scheduled growth spurt that couldn't be put off. Poor guy.

Around him, DH has been working on putting house bits back together. I've been working at hauling out stuff from the basement. Having finally realized that we will probably have a winter this year, I've changed the direction of my garden puttering to decorating for the winter season. I'm known, in my neighborhood, as being the wack-job who puts up a lot of lights and different decorations for the change of seasons.
Thankfully, I'm not alone.

There's a fellow who keeps an immaculate yard just across from the English-speaking church we go to byweekly. He though does seasonal changes that are a bit over the top. But nothing is on the ground - it's all higher up, around his fence and windows.

There's a lady down our street who also inspires me. Her genre is with dolls and stuffed animals.

I was out last Saturday, before the snow fell, trying to get some lights up. This year we have a Fesitivus pole for DH, a lighted landing spot for Pere Noel, closer to the house this year, in addition to the polar bear, plastic candles and lanterns, plus the lights, of course.

Yesterday, I put up the oversized candy canes in our trees and replanted the candles that keep blowing down. I went out with the Mothership who's going through a late-life house-fashion crisis (wants to modernize her condo a bit, much to the chagrin of Dad who likes the furniture he's had for the last 25 years. Ugh.) So we rolled out late yesterday afternoon heading towards the likes of Sofa World (which felt more like Sofa Neighborhood), and Rona to look at light fixtures and door knobs. (Her doorknobs are dowdy too.)

Rona was my downfall. They were having an LED light sale. I couldn't help myself ... At least I didn't buy another electrical source stump ('cause I know we have another one some where in the house! I just have to find it.)

So, now it's Sunday afternoon. I'm writing this, listening to The Vinyl Café, thinking about how to string the next 300 feet of lights ...

* * *

This is what one side of the house looked like at dusk. It's still not done. I need one more extension cord I think, and I've moved some things around (illuminated candy canes because they were behaving badly) already. I'd like to move the set of lights over in the tree (left hand bent light section), but I need CU-1 to be home for that.

BlogFriday post: The XXX version

So I was out at the local tavern with all CUs in tow having a plate of wings with a good neighbor/friend and his posse. Having just had a birthday, and having received a glorious jar of olives for my birthday, I wanted to get another man's perspective on gift giving.

The conversation took a few twists and turns, and finally, I asked the all important question - what's your best birthday present ever? My supper companion, without missing a beat says "sex".

Um, Ok. After checking the kids' animated faces, I realized they were well engaged in their own distracting conversations.

My DH, who'd joined us by that time, became engaged in the conversation. So, here I was, stuck between two guys, talking about their favorite past-time, after hockey and basketball, of course.

I let them prattle on while I thought of my own efforts to support martial bliss. Four children can take the life-blood out of a couple. The efforts I/we (DH and I) spend trying to break up fights, find lost items (that should have been put away in the CUs locker or storage box in the first place!), hound for incomplete homework, plus trying to take care of the other detritus around running the house is work. By the time 11 o'clock rolls around, I'm tired. I'm usually sick too. The most I can do is sidle up next to my life-spark and try to get HIM warm (he's got notoriously cold feet) while trying to squeeze out a few minutes of restful sleep. Thus, extra fun just doesn't come into play.

But, now I prattle - onto the good stuff. I've been reading a book called Sex lives of wives : reigniting the passion by Holly H. Hollenbeck. Actually skimming because unless something has a lot of pictures these days, I don't have the brain cells to absorb much. (By the way, this book doesn't have pictures.)

Having made it through a couple of chapters, I finally get to a part that actually describes what overworked/over scheduled women can do to reignite the passion in their mates. The "Passion Seekers", a club of women that met to discuss passion and on whose experiences and discussions the book is based, came up with an idea: treat your mate's privates like you do you pet. Ok. I'm willing to try.
Now, we've got three cats and a hamster. The cats usually look after the care of the hamster, so you see where things go in this house.

If I treat DH's privates like I do our cats, this is what it would sound like:

"Quit nagging me!"

"No, you can't have more treats!"

"Really. You've had enough. Now go away."

There's also the strong possibility that DH would find himself on the other side of the bedroom door because his purring is too loud.

Maybe I should read into the next chapter ...

Vive le vent, vive le vent, vive le vent de neige

I think I got the lyrics right.

Today's our first snow fall. 2-4 cms to fall today, followed by ice pellets, followed by 2-4 more cms of snow tonight, and then another 7-9 tomorrow.

Groovy.

I've dug out the older child-units' boots, snow pants and coats from last year. Thank small gods they didn't grow that much - though, CU-2 s-q-u-e-e-z-e-d into last year's pants (skin-tight puffy snow pants ARE a sight to be seen), and CU-1's are floods (terrific to look at when there are white socks involved).

CU-3 got some new duds from VVs (Value Village), so everything is right with the world there. CU-4 ... well ... he's not happy being cold so, even though he's got a snow cover, his hands and feet stick out. Mittens and boots ARE NOT satisfactory, so I've put him into CU-3's back-up - the MEC "Toaster suit". And OMG is it. Usually, you put in a nice, dry kid into this thing. They come out hot and toasty, though a bit moist from the condensation build up from their effort of play.

Guess I'll try again with another combo for CU-4, and hope that DXH kicks in with his shopping spree this weekend to get the older children clothes that actually fit.

The children were quite excited by the change of weather. They see it as an opportunity to go out and play. Now that construction has been complete, and we have a terrific window to the North of our house, facing into the yard, I say "YES! Do go out and play after supper." We only needed the snow to fulfill this need. Here's hoping it's a big, dry snow winter.

Mama wants to go out and play too!

Viva Las Vegas

So, the latest ... the children are going to Sin City for Christmas. Just what every pre-teen needs eh?

***

It's been a rough couple of days with hormones flying and wills being tested. I swear I'm not sure how I'm going to muster the patiences to make it through the next 20 years of child rearing. I'm already loosing it much too frequently for my liking. This is not the example I wanted to show my children.

I've been thinking about other blogs that I scope out on a regular basis - Jonathan who's looking to get his gaggle of kids shortly, Wrecking Crew who's got three boys, Editor who's almost through the teenage years and embarking on the last big push for her WonderBoy before he flies. They're getting through their issues. Mine seem minor compared. But their mine.

And I'm just a bit sad.

Ok ok I'll try to find something nice to talk about

Well, that was the idea anyway, until my DH handed me a steaming cup of NeoCitrine because I had sympathy symptoms after reading Wrecking Crew's Sunday and Monday. Now, barely able to type ... whine whine whine, ah, that's more like it!

No really. Things have been quite quiet at my end of things for a couple of weeks. The creative juices have been being fed from the bi-weekly salons we've been holding under the guise of "Pizza night" - a party we hold every second Friday when the older child units return from the weekly adventures in the parallel universe.

I've been trying to teach myself The Gimp because I want to make up some marketing materials for my special side distraction. I've not been trying super hard though, as CU-4, also known as CU the last, has become mobile.

CU-4 has got to be the fastest of the four. He can make it from the kitchen, around the front room (double parlor), through our master bedroom, into the a joining bathroom to lift the toilet seat and check the temperature (yup, same as the powder room toilet!) before I can figure out that he's no longer improving his vocabulary by eating pages from the dictionary.

He's a busy guy, as seen here, he's taken on his DF's role of watching the street for any wayward strangers or lurkers. (I think I've got to get him a old cardigan too so that he can sit on the porch with his dear pa and yell at the kids whose baseball falls into our yard!)

Sigh. Like father, like sons.

Danger and annoyance

Drat! I thought too long and missed the deadline for the BlogFriday entry.

Last week's word was danger. This weeks word is annoyance. I think that I am annoyed with myself for overthinking the word danger.

The first thing that came to mind (like an ear worm) was a nagging reference to a cartoon character that I vaguely remember, something like Danger Rick. I think he was a raccoon. I could be wrong about it all though. I've been known to be wrong before! (But only once! ;-)

When I was able to sweep aside the ides of the raccoon named Rick, I was thinking about pedagogy of words in general and how flippantly people use them. No thought. There's a danger in that.

For example, while visiting some great friends yesterday, my friend was comforting her dog who was afraid of some loud noises emanating from the basement. While she soothed the pup with there-there's she also told him "don't cry". I kept thinking "why not?" The dog was scared. Why would you tell him to not express himself?

After coming out of a 10 year abusive relationship where things like showing any other emotion besides happiness was punished in some way, I've opted to speak out to those around me to give them permission to give themselves permission (follow that logic now). Two people whom I love dearly are still within the circle of influence of this negative model. When I see them I offer them a place to feel their emotions to the fullest - anger, sadness, fear. There's no danger here to cry. There's no scowling or displays of annoyance or fridgidness or withdrawal to be mad about injustices perceived or real. It's all real.

Happy November 1st, well, not any more

That's about as much enthusiasm as I can muster today.

Er, that was supposed to be yesterday's entry.

Yesterday I had many problems. Today I have the same problems, but it's a day later, and I'm hoping I've matured a bit.

Yesterday I had extreme small children/life-induced fatigue. Last night I got a pretty good deal - I sleep, DH gets up with any one who needs an escort to the bathroom/cuddle during the night. And I slept and dreamed. Weird dreams. But it was sleep.

My problems are in better perspective today. Maybe.

Today's problems are more carriable: discombobulated barrier near my kids school, insurance claims (standard in our house - not a week goes by without one going in), coming up with a good entry for BlogFriday, the GST rebate claim that STILL needs to be started (that I have two years before the deadline expires means my mojo isn't moving), laundry, self-pity, you know, yada yada - the norm. The difference is that maybe I won't have a hair-trigger explosion reaction to everything today. (Yesterday I was like a Pinto in a crash-up derby.)

As I tell my children when we get into a particularly bad mash up "tomorrow is another day". Seeing that tomorrow is now today, I'm going to try to embrace all that makes my day today and try to find something good in it. (Yah, it's a wee Pollyannaish, but I'm t-r-y-i-n-g.)

Party on, dudette

Well, it's been a hell of a party and there are no current signs of abating. Lack of sleep and CU-4's very wonky sleep pattern (It's 2 a.m. and I'm UP! Oh. It's now 3:15 a.m. and I'm UP! Oh, look the kitty waaaants to have his ears pulled, and it's 4:10 a.m. why not? I'm UP!)

As the rotten cycle goes - I get tired and think - "Oh food is a fast pick-me up to give me the energy I need to make it through just long enough to put CU-4 down for a nap!". So I eat. I put him down for his nap, then, in the fog-induced state, think - I haven't had breakfast/lunch/a real meal ... and the circle of life spins out of control, and I rock on.

Lately, in order to distract myself from my current state, I've been trying to bake - not necessarily all that successfully, I might add. The worst of it happened yesterday when I was painting on the last finger nail to four dozen Witches' Finger cookies.


Bea-utes aren't they? Well, this is batch two. Batch one looked just as good or better when IT happened. The cookie sheet with ALL THE FINGERS slid - CRASH! BOOM! onto the floor. Not even the most expert surgeon would have been able to put these digits back together.

These babies went to school today. I was super grossed out by them. We'll see how CU-3's crew takes them.

Happy Hallowe'en eve!

Opinions

Yesterday night, while at ball hockey with CU-1, I got tapped on the shoulder and was asked to participate in a focus group regarding health and safety of our kids at home, at school and withing the neighborhood and community.

I thought this was a rather obtuse topic to deal with within the confines of 40 minutes. I was also surprised that they had to recruit parents at a ball hockey night to get opinions. Why was there no advertising about this anywhere in the community prior to the two minute warning?

But, I attended and listened to three other moms talk about criteria they see as being important to providing the stability in a child's life.

Of the four of us who participated, I knew two of the others and extrapolate my observation to the fourth mom. We're all educated (which means we are more likely to be liberal and open to ideas, seeking assistance, and be willing to work towards and with solutions presented.) What I found interesting was that before this meeting I wouldn't have classified the the four of us as a representational cross-section of the people living in this community/catchment area. The women's self-declaration of the challenges they face helped me realize that we may have a greater level of education then my neighbors, but we are all struggling.

It was really helpful to hear about other parent's struggles raising their children. One mom had a son who was having difficulties in school and commented how schools were quick to want to label a kid, and that the community services and the pathways to assist the parent are not readily visible. Another parent talked about the difficulties of providing a stable home life when a parent may have to work multiple jobs or a swing shift, meanwhile juggling day or after school expenses, and personal needs and commitments.

And then there was the likes of me who waffles between panic and calm trying to figure out where the money's going to come from for the next two years until CU-4 is into regular day care (versus baby day care - there's a $900/month difference in the fees).

We self-identified as the working poor. Working to make ends not necessarily meet, but get a bit closer together.

* * *
Start of pity party

Because this is a pseudo-anonymous blog, I can further out myself by saying I make a good wage - well above the poverty line, as does DH. We're very careful with our money. We make our choices not based on support of the environment (which most people like to think is our motivation), but because our finances dictate greater frugality. We shop a the second hand shops. We use our local GT for at least half of our weekly groceries. We don't own a car because, well, where would the insurance and car payments come from?

To walk through our house, you'd never know we're running that close to the bone. It's not super fancy, but it has its luxuries (flat screen computer monitor (adult toy) and lots of kids toys in the yard). It's not because we spent a lot of money to get these things.

With some pride I can walk through my house and tell you what curb, or former home 85% of the things in my house came from. We have very very few new things -- which, I keep telling myself, is ok. The kids don't seem to mind. (Christmas is coming, though, and we can't get them anything that they've asked for.) I think I've fooled myself into saying that it's even fun to try to beat my system and stretch that dollar as if it was running a marathon. Alas, brain washing isn't permanent.

So, if you've read this far, you're probably asking "What's the point of this blog post?" Whining, dear readers. Full blown whining, an opportunity to wallow in self-pity about choices I've made and how I have self-inflicted problems. I just need to worry out loud. Panic, more like it. Sometimes it helps free up space so that I can come up with parts of a solution.

If you have nothing to say ...

I grew up with a the Mothership using a lot of adages to get me through the day - of the several that comes to mind is goes something like "If you don't have anything nice to say about some one, don't say anything at all." Now I've used that adage a couple of times -- like many years ago when a work colleague brought in her baby that looked like a very small chimpanzee. Today, well, I have something not nice to say, and I'm trying really hard to be polite about it.

Today I had to take CU-2 to the hospital to have her cast and break looked at. (Did I mention this is the second time she's broken her arm? This time, it's her other arm and she broke it falling out of a tree. Oh my talented child!)

Anyway, I was under the impression that it was to take her cast off. She was the same. This is the information implied, though not necessarily directly relayed by her father's partner who apparently took CU-2 to the hospital to have the break set. This is the same guy who is not a legal guardian of this child and who, by law (and our arbitrated agreement), should not be bringing her anywhere medical, unless either her father or her mother (ME!) are unreachable. (In the event that her father can't take her, I'm supposed to go.)

So here I am. Trying to find nice things to say about the situation. I'm of two minds. One is I appreciate that one of the two (hmmm, trying very hard to choose nice words here) actually cares enough about children that aren't his biologically. And I do appreciate at DXH's partner is taking steps to communicate with me in a more open and direct manner. It helps a bit.

That doesn't stop me guts from churning that they're passing my kids the kids off as theirs. It's bullshit. Sheer bullshit.

Though, in counting my blessings it's not as bad as my friend (see previous posting).

I may have that to look forward to in a couple of years when we have to help CU-1 choose the next school (high school).

Disbelief, that's a word for it

Ok, this one is easy to blog about, but may not be of interest to that many people.

I have a friend (yes really, it's not me) to whom I was introduce based on a commonality - divorce and children. She had and I have. That's were much of the commonality begins and ends on this particular topic.

She's an interesting woman to know. Smart, attractive, sporty and capable. And let me not forget, crippled by the Canadian (in)justice system.

In the divorce decree that was made at the time many years ago, she was not healthy and was unable to defend herself against the much better (financially) positioned ex-spouse. He went at her tooth and nail and walked away with the children. Over the years, he has continued to verbally, emotionally and financially rein rough over his ex-wife (and their children but not using the money she sends him to raise their children). One could say the family has fallen apart after the divorce -- in so many ways.

She has paid, big time. She has supporting three children who have learned (by simply going through the process of teenagers in a ME-ME-ME world and by his own example) to continue to sustain the abuse when they are with their mother.

She has been kept in an economic vice for so many years that she is close to the poverty line.

While this story isn't uncommon - the part that I find so discouraging and that makes me so fearful for having to deal with my ex-husband is the burnt-earth financial policy that some judges allow to stand.

In the case of my friend, she was back in court recently to request lower payments as her eldest child was not in school, had joined the military, and was married. The judge refused to hear her case, lambasted her for wasting the court's time and gave her an additional financial penalty to her already heavy burden.

I read this account with great disbelief.

Where is the justice in the law. I am aware that law IS black and white. It makes me question the greater good. What lesson can be learned by beating some one continuously? Why does this woman receive NO compassion or relief any time she is before the courts?

From the side of the ex-husband - he continues to hold the upper hand. He continues the financial warfare and is encouraged to do so every time the judge rules.

I hope the karma bus comes for you Sir.

Super cute

A super cute video that deserves attention.

Struggles

I've been struggling with this weeks word assignment: Achievement.

It's easy for me to think of other's achievements, and I could certainly write about the pride I have for my siblings who are successful - my sister the triathalete and amazing parent, my brother who gets to go to Hawaii for two weeks to look at dams, and my other brother - the former scientist with several patents to his name. I can wander in and around and through my memories of their various life achievements. I can even do this exercise for my children - CU-2 who's done an amazing job in Girl Guides despite only getting to go to less then half the meetings. CU-3 who shows talent in so many areas that I'm looking forward to her growth with both fear and excitement.

So, while I can talk about achievements of others I find it greatly difficult to look at my own. It's been three nights that I've been trying to draw up a list as a sort of self-identifying exercise. The only things on my list so far are that I've walked Miles-for-Millions, a fund raising activity twice and both times I walked the full 26 miles (in one day). I also walked 26 miles to follow up a Chinese food craving when I worked in Yellowstone National Park.

My sister's boy did this type of exercise (identify things you've done in your life that show your achievements) as part of a high school course. She said it was an enriching process for him to see everything that he'd attained to date (racing medals, swimming awards, and report cards). She told him he could use this to build his resume, and, better yet, when he's going through a crappy time in his life, he'll be able to sit down with this record before him to show himself that he can be successful and feel pride in his achievements.

96 bottles, er, days left

Jealousy is one of the seven deadly sins, and rightly so. It tends to eat away at the very fabric of one's core if not held in check.

Regrettably, I figure this attribute is my worst character flaw.

What brings on this bout of angst you may wonder? I checked in with work this morning to read the weekly departmental wrap sheet.

Sigh.

With being out for a year on maternity leave, it's hard for me not to be part of the work environment. I feel fulfilled there and I get fulfillment from the work I do. I feel like I'm doing something more then laundry, which is not what I wanted to do when I grew up.

In today's release, there's a good, dedicated space to a colleague who picked up the 2nd, and more visible half of a project I struggled with. On one hand, I'm thrilled to be away from the project. It was gross, and my bain. On the other hand, I can be big enough to recognize that she's well on working a difficult project. On the other hand, without me mucking about in the trenches, I don't think she would have had the chance, nor would it have been this amiable.

Thus the bout of jealousy. It's eating at me. I want to be back at work. It was MY project damit! It was my turn to shine. It was my turn to get a chance at the golden ring! (Chances for me seem to come around less often then for my colleague. I just don't have the perky personality to grease the way up the ladder.)

Ooooh. Is that being too bitchy?

Like a cow, I'd like to be outstanding in my field.

My bald baby

It took three children to have the dreaded hair cut incident.

She'd walked away with a kid's scissors.

We'd thought she was working on crafts.

CU-4 was providing cover for her, distracting us by pulling down papers and getting into the tangle of computer wires.

Then it got quite.

"Where's CU-3?"

"CU-3??!"

"I'm in here Da-a-a-hd."

[It's dark in there.]

"Whatchadoing?"

"Cutting my hair."

The air caught a collective OH SHIT!

So she's got a big bald spot on the side of her head. That's an achievement the other three haven't done yet.

Addictions

Hi, my name is MongoAdventurer and I'm addicted to my kid's Webkinz games.

There. I did it. It's a first step. An achievement of sorts.

Friday's love list

Meg Fowler's thrown me a twist today - I'd have to come up with a Megish love list. Arrrgh. I find coming up with my own a tricky feat. I'd started my own, when I realized that I thought I misread the post (I had ...). Thus, for you two or three readers, here's *my* Friday love list:

Love list?

1. A back that doesn't ache.
2. Wet, cold, rainy days. I so much more appreciate the bed, a warm cup-a, books, bathes, TV, CBC radio, especially when they play jazz.
3. An old fashioned snow storm.
4. Shoes that fit well.
5. Scallops.
6. That my body still does what I need it to do, despite the abuse I've put it through.
7. Creative thinking.
8. Humor.
9. Holding hands.
10. Walking through fallen leaves.
11. The smell of a cold morning.
12. Hats.
13. Hats on babies.

What do you love?

Sadly but true

From the good fellows at Demotivators.

P.S. A good combination of the Conair back-thumper, some over-the-counter meds, and an amazing nap with CU-4 means the back is BACK! Wahoo! Laundry here I come!

Slim pickings today

Today could be a country-western song, though instead of heart-=ache, I've got back ache, and big time. Thanks to CU-4, I kind of pulled muscles in some pretty bad places.

I've also been spending my time trying to distract myself from the pain by reading other people's blogs. Meg Fowler's trash-talk was particularly funny and helpful to relieve the endorphins today.

I'll do just about anything to speed the recovery.

Free hugs

Ok, I got this off a link to a link of a blog that I was reading. It's worth reposting I think.

Happy Turkey Day

Gawd I'm knackered and stuffed! Got gross Pepto stuffed. Just nice and all roundy feeling from a pleasant dinner, great wine and fun talk with good friends.

Thank you all and happy turkey day 2007.

"Diff'rent is nice but it sure isn't pretty"

From A Chorus Line, "At the ballet"

Mother always said I'd be very attractive
When I grew up, when I grew up.
"Diff'rent," she said, "With a special something
And a very, very personal flair."
And though I was eight or nine,
Though I was eight or nine,
Though I was eight or nine,
I hated her.
Now,

"Diff'rent" is nice, but it sure isn't pretty.
"Pretty" is what it's about.
I never met anyone who was "diff'rent"
Who couldn't figure that out.
So beautiful I'd never lived to see.
But it was clear,
If not to her,
Well, then... to me...
That ...

Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.
Every prince has got to have his swan.
Yes,
Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.

Hey!...

I was pretty...

At the ballet

***
When the word different came up as the word of the week, this is what I immediately thought of. It seems, that to some degree, I live my life through snipits of musicals. When I'm happy, I sing in full voice (in my head) OKLAHOMA! or Singing in the Rain. And when I'm sad, there's a sound track to that.

I'm different. Always was. Auburn haired. Speckled like a ripe banana. I stood out from my peers. Didn't help that my mother dressed me a little more creatively then other students at my clique-y elementary school. It was too late by the time I reached junior high.

Over the years I've wanted to be part of the in crowd, or any crowd. (Much like the line from Ferris Bueller's Day off - he was popular with the dweebs and the potheads, motor heads and jocks.) Oh how I tried. Looking back, I figure I must have had some guardian angels pulling the feathers out of their wings trying to keep me on track!

A few major wrong turns, a few overcorrections later, and here I am. Happier with myself. Finding myself amongst the creatives who are different and who see it as a good thing.

I've got children who are different; each with his or her strength. I look at them and wonder if they're going to be outsiders looking in, or insiders looking out. Will they reach out or within to show compassion when there is an opportunity. How different or how conforming will they be to smooth out their journey.

Two of the four CU-s already live a different life. How is this going to mold them for the future?

They too face an amazing journey. I looking forward to watching them as they take steps, and hope they find peace with their differences.

The more things change ...

This week's word from Blog Friday is journey. Funny that.

When I first thought about it, I thought about the band Journey ("I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you" fame - for me, anyway.) Then I thought about what kind of photo response entry I could put in over at I Spy, though I don't know how many more responses I can link from that account, as I read the fine print that said it was to induce writing. Then I started to look in one of the Canadian house magazines to which I subscribe - the title of the editorial was about journies. And DH just returned from his trip, and one of the parental units left for his.

This is becoming more of a spooky coincidence thing ...

What's the point?

Little Debbies and Diet 7-up. Do the calories of one knock the other out?

Away

I was a way for four days. Just f-o-u-r little days, and what happens? All h-e-double-hockey sticks breaks loose.

- One of the three furry roommates pooped, albeit discretely, in the corner.

- My bank account got decimated (all legitimate expenses coming out).

- The paper recycling didn't get picked up. (Mind you, it might have been plastic and tin this week.)

- I got almost no mail.

- The mail I got was to tell me that my flipping order didn't go through because I had the nerve to give them a wrong credit card number!

- No one got me groceries so I came home to an empty (and dirty) refrigerator.

- I find out that sheet has been breaking out at work and I don't return for another 110 days.

- No one scooped the cat box (see first entry).

- CU-3 has overdue books.

- Came home to a message on the answering machine that CU-2 broke her arm again. (This time it's her other arm, the one she writes with.)

- Picked up emails from DXH part 2 (who's getting really really chummy) to say that CH-1 vomited in his car during the drive home on transfer day and was wondering what he'd had to eat. (It could be your breath that CU-2 complains about regularly.)

So, I'm having an OMG moment right now because DH is still away - not that I can't cope - I just can't cope with ALL OF THIS AT THE SAME TIME.

** Deep breath **

Dancing with the stars is almost on, and there was a sale of Little Debbies at our local neighborhood department store, so, I gotta' go.

It's Friday here. Is it Friday there?

Our number is regularly mistaken for a pool product provider, pizza parlor, fooze ball equipment issuer, and computer store. On occasion, DH and I have been known to get creative and have some fun with our responses to the miss-dialer's inquiries.

For example, yesterday I got a call from some one who wanted to order two pizzas. My response?

"I'd like to help you, but I only make pizzas on Fridays."

Puzzled "Oh" and a l-o-n-g pause.

"Ah, do I have the wrong number?"

"Yes. Yes you do."



DH fielded a called about pool skimmers:

"Do you have that wand-thing that cleans pools?"

"No. No I don't. I don't even have a pool."


These are not necessarily the most creative responses - they do give us a laugh, in one of those you-had-to-be-there moments.

Yaky hair

DH said "Oh you don't need that. You've already got yaky hair."

Gee.

Thanks.

And yet another reason to post today

Beginnings and endings. Starts and stops. Don't get me started. Start your engines. Start button. Start spreading the news ...

Exploration of a single word can cause profound results. In this case, it's another social networking, blogging exercise in support of writers - to get them going on something - this something is a word. The word for this week is START.

* * * * *

A few months back, when I was working on a project with a PM, I was told "Words don't matter". Every once in a while I trot out this gem to tease him with his own words. The irony is that words do matter.

The child hood rhyme:

Sticks and stones will break my bones
But names will never hurt me.

is so completely and utterly WRONG.

Verbal abuse is insidious and vicious. While leaving no visible marks, it can cut a person's psyche. I witnessed the children's version while watching the first few minutes of CU-2's dance class role out. A kid was being teased about his name, which ordinarily enough, like Bob, has a longer version as he put it. He liked the short version and didn't want to be known by the more formal. The kids picked on him by refusing to accept his preference, and even tried to involve the teacher in on their play. And so it starts.

Wii

Last week I dashed off a very short (under the 250 word limit) story for NetChick's 10th anniversary blogging. The low turn-out of entries meant that I actually made the final 20 cut.

She's put out a call to vote for the most popular. I'm number 12. (It's bad, and I don't think I'd win. Hell, I wouldn't even vote for me, liking other's stories much much more.) It was done on a lark though. So there.

What goes up just goes higher

Having four CUs means home work. CU-1 and CU-2 have theirs. CU-3 doesn't have any, but has made it her duty to disrupt CU-1 and 2 from doing theirs. CU-4 is into every one's business. That's his home work. Makes for an interesting couple of hours as I try to peel kids off of one another and lift and separate so that something gets done. Sigh. (All this ordinary stuff going on while the 'fridge was warming up the leftovers, and the stove lost power.)

Alas, that amusement was precluded by an outside spectacle.

Tonight was especially taxing because we had extracurricular entertainment. A neighbor from the other block came around to visit. While standing at the curb, we watched a train of cars line up the street for a bidding party. (Seven. SEVEN bidders lined up to buy a small three-bedroom home.) We talked with one of the bidders who lost out on other homes in the area already. They'd bidded 10 k more then the asking price. They lost out. They were 32 k SHORT of the final bid. (The house went for 42.5 k more then the asking price, and there were problems with it!) This is just insane. Especially in our neighborhood. So far houses go up, have one open house and are sold within 24 hours. Scary. And the fun will begin yet again next week. The flipper down the street will be putting his up for sale, and it will probably go fast too. We'll see if the they top the former record set this summer for our block 70k above their asking price in a bidding war (10 people involved).

The end

So, it came and went.

A one hour visit, just like one big happy family. (Excuse me while I throw up in my mouth.)

Almost on the dot, it started.

They sneaked by the century standing on guard by parking around the corner. Didn't want to be too conspicuous did they?

The doorbell bonged while I was sneaking the coffee pot to the front room so that CU-1 could more easily serve his guests.

I said a quick hello to the floor as they walked in, and quickly moved to the other door so that I could let CU do what he needed to do.

Apparently DH walked right into the fray and got invited to coffee. Apparently he didn't hear me announce that the posse had arrived.

I went back to my work in the yard, an equally laborious task trying to turn over sun-hardened mud. (I'm turning that part of the yard back to grass ... until I can think of something else to do with it.)

After about 15 minutes of work, ease dropping on them using the room monitor feature that our phone has (the phone had been set up to monitor CU-4 while he slept), I went in to show my face.

It was awkward. Here I am in my own house, and I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable. CU-2 warmed up to the occasion, which reduced my discomfort. CU-3 was all over my DXH, which was just weird, considering how starchy he appeared. DXH's partner, (I'll have to come up with a name for him as he might start becoming a regular here ... hmmmm DXH part 2?), with dogglet force field fully engaged (dog on lap pose) was having a chat with CU-1 and DH. Weird. All very weird.

DXH part 2 was carrying most of the conversations. Sometimes it's good to be a seriously gay man, it seems to come with an amazing ability that covers awkward social situations. This one really was one of those times when DXH part 2's talents just shone through.

So on this went for a good 30 minutes. I prompted CU-1 to give a house tour to the DXHs, which, in satisfying their curiosity, perhaps they'd get the feeling they could then move on to something else.

CU-2 had warmed up enough to show off her room. CU-1 did his as well. DXH part 2 remarked how much the color choices the CUs made were so much like that in their own home. Well duh. The children want consistency ... He was also surprised that I let the children pick out their own room color. Well, #1. it's only paint. #2. It's their room. #3. I don't have to look at it. So there. But, I didn't say anything sarcastic. Just said that CU-3 will soon be making her own choice too. DXH part 2 feigned surprise.

Almost at the one hour mark, they finally left. DXH part 2's parting shot was to suggest that maybe we should get together on a monthly basis (all eight of us) for brunch. Ah yah right. This from the couple who just mere weeks ago continued to verbally and emotionally abuse me and the children. Ah yah, sure.

No no boys. I said yes to CU-1's request because:

#1. This IS his home too, and he is allowed to invite his friends home and have them feel welcome.

#2. I've spent the last f-o-u-r y-e-a-r-s waving the forking laurel wreath around. What does that say to you? That suddenly, because you suggested CU-1 has extended an invitation, that you're a hero and being a big person for accepting an invitation that's been extended to you over and over and over again.

#3. I'm hoping that you all come to your senses and not just ignore the hard won arbitration "agreement", that you recognize your hard-ass tactics with the children just were not getting you anywhere and that we're coming up to the very very important teen years when lots of emotions and coming-of-age shit gets mixed up and that their lives better have settled, safe havens to land or you are playing a crap shoot with them deciding to make permanent decisions about where they live and how often they see you.

#4. C-O-N-S-I-S-T-E-N-C-Y. Children thrive with consistency in their lives, though it doesn't preclude spontaneity. When you have a child who has difficulties, and has diagnosis's that suggest consistency in all aspects of that child's life might reduce the bumps, well ******, what do you think that might mean? (Oh wait a minute, that's right, perhaps this question is to hard to ask the guy who rewrote the definition of monogamy.)

So, for the benefit of OUR kids. I'll kiss your ass, or, really, make that DXH part 2's hairy back side, as he's the one wearing the skirts in your household, in order to make this work for OUR kids. As of right now, I just don't think I'm open to brunch. I think my dance card is full. I have to wash my hair. I have to vacuum the cat. My mustache needs trimming. There's the litter pan to clean. I have to re-grout the tub. And, of course, there's that much needed root canal.

But, thanks for coming.

D-Day

So it's D-day. As I write this, we are within throwing distance of the bewitching hour to when DXH and his posse arrive. I've given up trying to tidy up the front room for the third time this morning. It's got a nice, rumbled, lived in look, well, because, we live here.

CU-2 and I have been batting around options for her not to be readily available to this event - crafts, a must-run errand, a trip to the park. She thinks CU-1 is out to lunch and that the whole thing is just too weird.

We took Grandma C's advice to close off doors so that CU-1 could invite his father to see his room, while giving everyone else privacy.

I feel foolishly buoyant about the event. Lack of sleep? Nerves? (Nah - I usually feel like throwing up.) Maybe something good will come of this. Here's hoping.

Survival

Bad to say that a blog entry has to start with that. But this is different. It's a good survival. We survived pizza night with CU-1 and 2 successfully inviting a friend over each for dinner. We even got an extra cling-on that CU-1's invitee knew and thus a mutual friend of the two.

The highlight of the evening was CU-2 coming in to tell me that a neighbor two houses down came out and asked my children to be quiet because she was trying to watch TV. HA! I've lived on this block for four years and have yearned for the sound of children screaming with glee and pleasure. Apparently she prefers a more adult street.

Who knows if she's going to get to see that soon. We've had a LOT of homes up and down for sale within hours of an open house taking place. The latest that's up is next to the day care. They're having an open house on Sunday. I figure DH and I will take in the place after the adventures with DXH and assemblage.

On that note, I'm still not sure how things are going to shake out. A quick touch-base with CU-2 is an interesting barometer of the situation. Being way to old in character then the tender * years on the planet, she said she didn't know why we were doing it when we don't like one another.

My response was that it's because we love them so much that we do those kinds of things.

I also gaged her receptiveness to showing her room, if a tour of the house is an option. She said she wanted her door closed. Her choice.

A two fold problem

DH and I are going through a bumpy batch. A lot of turbulence. It's pretty rough. Like really cheap toilet paper.

You could suggest that my suggestion to build a porch is at the heart of the problem. I don't think it is.

Currently we're waiting for news about refinancing to attend to the last costs associated with the reconstruction of the house. That news should be through either today or tomorrow.

Meanwhile, DH is panicking like only he knows how. (Actually I've done it too, just not about money.)

He's panicking that some how we're going to loose the house. This, I think, is his biggest fear. You see, we have to come up with about $10k more to pay off the contractor. Meanwhile, he'd like to merge all of our debts so that repayment is lower. Ok. Sounds reasonable. Right? Wrong. Not in his eyes. He's panicking that the financing will not be enough (even though the mortgage broker has said she could get enough money herself). So, there should be no issue.

Oh now. Yesterday night we had a slap-fest (where I reverted to calling him a RAT [oooohhhh big name calling there eh? What's next calling him Baby La La? Ouch that'll sting]) because he was sandbagging the conversation (we're one paycheck away from loosing the house [not true], we wouldn't survive if there was a lay off [I'm am contractually obligated to return to work for a year at the end of the maternity leave, and it's unlikely the Feds are so bloated right now that there will be layoffs. DH just got a personalized pen from work, and is fast tracked to get his performance review and retroactive raise in place). Hmmm. And on when the in-comprehensive blather. (Yes DH, if you dare read this - it was blather - as I exposed a realistic light on each of your concerns.) Not even a call to your mother, to try and get your fears settled there, soothed you.

Really, WTF is the problem with talking to people to get a free estimate on the costs associated with building a porch? FREE ESTIMATE. NO OBLIGATION. It's called educating yourself.

For the record, each time I've asked you about the freaking porch - I've started small - can we move the stairs to the entryway from the left side to the right side. Can we look at options and solutions available to us? What are all the options for this fiscal year?

You some how mis-hear this and start hearing full blown plans for the porch. Because of your willingness to talk about the porch (and then the subsequent five-year landscaping plan) I run with is. Tooo many times have I been sucked into this cycle.

Now - part two - my side of things, as I see it.

I'm at home .... all day ... almost every day. Work doesn't want me to come in right now. They've got nothing for me to do that I could do from home, that doesn't require face-to-face contact with external clients.

Cleaning, painting and laundry are not my favorite things. Playing with CU-4 is nice, though not so fulfilling for me as I didn't receive the full motherly gene - especially for this age.

I get to look at and use unfinished parts of the house every day, all day. I see every bruise, every wrinkle ALL THE TIME. When you get home, I get a stressed out guy. Gee, like I haven't been dealing with that for a good part of the day. I get a tired guy. Gee, it's not like I don't get to deal with tired people at all all day, every day. (And this is also on night of broken sleep five days a week, often more.)

There is so much I can't do. There is so much I could do. However, like you and the wall project, I want some one -- YOU -- to be there for me so that we can walk and talk our way through the problems.

I'm not a big spender. You should know that by now. I do want things to be moved to a place where I then could pick up the hammer and do something.

I am feeling a lot of things right now. Unfulfilled is probably the biggest thing.

So, unfulfilled meets your issues that you bring home from work, plus the house issues that still are not solidified, plus future financial issues. Doesn't help that I've actually lowered my guard to such an extent where I have come to rely on you as a partner.

It's a pretty sucky place for us to be right now.

End of blather.

Vocabulary builder

Is has been reported that my dearest CU-3, my gentile CU-3, my baby has used the word CRAP.

DH was the one to report this too me. Allegedly CU-3 said she was hungry. When asked what she wanted for breakfast, she brightly chirps up "Crap! I wannnnnnt it."

Not sure that he was hearing correctly, DH has CU-3 to repeat. "I wannnnnnt crap."

Though it took DH a couple of more times to decipher what CU-3 really wanted (candy for breakfast), I am happy to report that CU-3 eventually did get fed and had a crap-free breakfast.

Taken from the inside of a washroom

What do you do when it's in use?

Better then a soap opera

XDH responds:

Re: Kung Fu classes: CU-1 and Partner of DXH take private lessons 3 times a week - the benefit of regular attendance is built in. CU-1 gets more focused time on Saturdays, Mondays and Wednesdays, the classes are designed for them, the test are schedule in accordance to their knowledge.

CU_2's interest for dance lesson is linked with her friend, if we were to enroll her she would want to be in the same class, so I would not choose the location, I was told that the studio is in the west end, less than 5 minutes away.

Thanks for the invitation, Doglette, Partner of DXH and I can make it Sunday after 13:00 - (sunday is the 23rd not the 22nd)

see you then,

My response:
CU-2's interest in dance is general. We've talked about it for over a year. There is a studio near the SuperStore on Richmond which she could attend. However,if you choose to register her to the one closer to your home, could you please provide me with the details. We will make every effort to get her to her lessons.

Do you need additional information so that the children can attend their other extra curricular activities?

See you Sunday, September 23rd. I'm sure CU-1 is thrilled with your accepting the invitation. This could go a long way to bringing peace to both households.

* * * * *


What the $#%@ was I thinking? :D

Playing chicken

DXH writes:
"CU-1 mentioned on several occasions that you agreed to invite us over to your house in order for the pets to meet and to sample some of your homemade treats (ice cream sandwiches, cake, and other goodies). Let us know if you still want us over and what time would be convenient for you.)"

I respond:
"I appreciate your willingness to come for a visit. CU-1 and I have talked about it many times. How about Sunday, September 22 at 1:00 p.m.? Please advise if you are able to make that date. I will work with CU-1 to prepare a treat for your visit."

Humor in the every day

Lately I've not been blogging about humorous stuff. It seems that the day-to-day-to-day-to-day grind has really busted my chops. The constant hurling of insults, the scrapping and the flying of fur (and that's just between the cats!) has taken a tole.

Today is different though. I've been reading www.megfowler.com as part of my morning ritual (as well as FBorFW and Miss Vicky's Offhand Remarks) and love them all to pieces. They're funny, frequently insightful and take me other places then where I am. Which is a good thing as I usually obsess about stuff going on in my immediate hand-span area.

In this week's request to post from Meg, she asked to write a list of things that others talk way too much about. Though number one was an easy tree to shake (my DXH), I poled DH to see if there was anything else I was nattering on about that bothered him. (It turned out to be an interesting survey as apparently he doesn't pay close attention to what I say.)

So while pursuing other people's lists, I found a couple other links that got put on my quick task navigation bar. Congratulations to Raising the wrecking crew and This chick's life. More traffic to you! ;-)

Mixed nuts

In a fit of frustration, I yelled at two of my CUs "ARE YOU NUTS?"

When they didn't respond (and I realized I was yelling because of my own anxiety arising from managing the immediate surroundings [crossing the street]), I immediately toned down my voice and said "Yah you are. You (pointing to CU-2) are a peanut. You (pointing to CU-3) are a cashew."

Whew. Another parenting foible skim-coated.

* * * * *

During the quieter moments of this weekend (which were very few and very far between), I got to thinking about self-promotion. I had been moving some of my photographs around the house, trying to cover up some of the bald spots, when I got to thinking about the studio tour going on this weekend, and how it's a chance for artists to show their work in their studios. As a photographer, I don't have a studio where I create art. As a photographer, it's harder to find places that will show my work because most don't see photography as art. Thus the conundrum - how to self-promote?

So, here I was thinking what about a Kitchen Gallery? (That's where I currently have four mini-shows going on right now! I started pulling through the ideas - one Saturday a month - 2 to 4 p.m. having a vernisage, show the work?? Crazy. I think I'm a Buckeye.

MegFowler made me do it

MegFowler over at MegFoweler.com has come up with the idea of the Friday love list. Great idea.

Here's what I put up in response to her quest to share:

picking veggies in the garden
a really really good book that draws you through with velocity and force
snail mail mail
mailboxes on posts (country style)
overgrown or messy gardens
shoes that fit
going to bed and actually being able to sleep
garlic (I’m cooking with it right now!)
Pizza night
When Child Unit 3 says it’s a beautiful day
going to Giant Tiger just to look at stuff
trips to the library with everyone in tow
Autumn

It's Annie Lennox time again

Remember her?

Well, when I went to drop off CU-4 today, CU-1 was re-coiffed, as he'd mentioned yesterday. I wonder if he'll ever see the natural colour of his hair ... Oh well, it is only hair. (Oh, and, well, now, he looks MORE like CU-4, though CU-4 has more!)

Keep your head up -- Movin' on

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)
Annie Lennox

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world
And the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something.

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused.

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world
And the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something.

Hold your head up - Keep your head up - Movin' on
Hold your head up - Movin' on - Keep your head up - Movin' on
Hold your head up - Movin' on - Keep your head up - Movin' on
Hold your head up - Movin' on - Keep your head up.

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused.

Hold your head up - Keep your head up - Movin' on
Hold your head up - Movin' on - Keep your head up - Movin' on
Hold your head up - Movin' on - Keep your head up - Movin' on
Hold your head up - Movin' on - Keep your head up.

Breaking a confidence

Ok. Here goes. I'm breaking my CU-2's confidence in the biggest of ways. I need to record this in some way, and I need to throw this out to the universe (and all my critics) just to get it out of my head.

Last week, when CU-2 was home, she sidled up to me and asked me if she could talk to me. As she didn't really respond to my question about timing (right now, or later). So she led me to the "sacred space" aka the parent's bedroom where she started to unpack the baggage.

Out came her angst about her father and his partner. About her struggle with her feelings towards the rules and inhabitants of her other home. She commented that she loved her father dearly. She didn't like that she was told to stay in her room until they were ready for her to come out. That she couldn't play freely with her neighborhood friend or use the computer as liberally as she has there. And then there's the subject of his partner's car, window control and breath. (If I'm going to break confidence, in for a penny, in for a pound.)

I listened carefully, not offering comment (I think I bit my tongue more then once), except to ask her how she felt about something, or what she thought would be a better solution.

I offered to roll-play with her. I suggested that if she couldn't talk to her father without tearing up (or breaking down as she had done with me), that she could write out her thoughts and read it to him. (With that suggestion, she got a panic-stricken look on her face for fear that her father's partner would see [and eventually hear] what she had to say.)

We got to a point where she had enough talking. She felt comfortable with my suggestions that she talk to her father, asking for his attention alone - by going for a walk, a drive in the car, or, as she'd done with me, finding a quiet place to talk, so that she had his attention.

I encouraged her to think about what she wanted to say, and find an appropriate time to talk - not when he's busy with any one else, or by anything else.

* * *
I saw her a couple of times this week. Twice before DXH's partner came to pick up the children. (DXH was out of town this week ...) Each time I saw her, she started by saying "I didn't talk to him yet." No "Bonjour Maman!" She's very very preoccupied by the weight of her need to discuss things with her father.

Today I mentioned that, as he was supposed to be home today from his trip, she may want to wait until the next rotation to talk to him. She told me "Maybe" then "I can't wait. I have to talk to him tonight."

Ok. So, here I am, eating my way through stuff because of my increasing anxiety level. DH and I have roll-played responses to an almost guaranteed nasty email radiating from his side of the fence about me propagating this discussion.

If he only did his homework about pubescent children and how they start to look at their worlds differently. This will be another foray into her exploring the more adult world.

Good luck on your negotiations kiddo. I sure hope he opens his eyes, ears and heart to you.

On again, off again

Since Mondayish, I've had an on-again, off-again relationship with my computer. My motherboard crashed and I've been (or rather DH) has been trying to re-piece parts of my virtual life back together.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm coming back on line. No email yet, but I have access to the outside world to read news and I'm now available through Yahoo!

Foibles

Growing up I was the usual, including being admonished for being messy. I've carried that yoke all my life - through single-dom, through marriage, through being a divorcée, back to being married. The yoke hasn't been any easier to carry as I get older. I've just learned to carry the criticism with more grace or absorb it with less visible emotions.

By far, I would say, keeping house as a married woman is the most difficult. There is a strong point of view of many people that the house should be spic and span no matter that the wife/mother/woman-of-the-house may have put in an eight hour day at a paying job, plus the commute, plus the seven hours of parenting (home work, face washing, teeth brushing, and playing with the children). (I just finished The Nanny Diaries. Apparently not all of us have these problems.)

Getting CU-2 to do the math, you have 10 hours left in the day. (I know. I know. CU's back to school tomorrow.)

While I wish, some days, that I had the extra hour, I'm looking at 9 hours. Many doctors report that people should get on average 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night to feel good, be more productive, and avoid getting sick.

So, here's the coin toss. Walk through the house and tidy the kitchen (putting away the clean dishes from the time saving washing machine, and reloading the dishes, putting out the garbage, picking up the remainders of toys, and school supplies left by the walking CUs, and generally trying to put things in their place (or find a new place for things that come into the house), followed by the living room (straightening, sweeping, picking up), followed by choosing to put the stuff on the stairs (that is perpetually ignored) or running it up to the CU's bedrooms. Well, I could do that for a two hours, or sleep. If I don't do it, the mess piles up on itself. If I do do it, I cut into valuable sleep time, and that's if I can sleep. (My own personal anxieties come into play here.)

Any one reading this would know this routine all too well.

So, what triggered the latest bout of public remorse? Correspondence with our contractor. Apparently the slow down on the project is directly related to the state of our home during construction. (It doesn't seem to matter that 1. they saw what they were getting into, 2. they were told to talk to us if they had any problems accessing places, they were to say something. They didn't. That they also left the detailed work on every room for weeks, which left us with stacks and stacks of unsorted piles seems to be par for the course.)

Anyway, I'm feeling public admonishment and it's bring a wave of sadness. Getting emails from the contractor are about as much fun as getting them from dear XDH.

I'm just not feeling competent today.

And then shit happens

Last night I went to bed obsessing about the state of the house. This morning I woke up obsessing about the state of the house. For any one who knows the site, we've been going through some rough times with delays on getting work done. Well, they got rougher.

I dared CC the owner of the company organizing the labor working on the site requesting removal of garbage left on the site for the last month, and for a time line of when the work would be completed. In reply, I received a tersely worded email from the owner.

There was much hearsay used in the letter, seeing that he hadn't set foot on the site since signing the contract last fall. There clearly was a lot of butt covering from the minions about what was and wasn't being done.

From a consumer's point of view, I stand by the emails I've sent to the project managers, including requests for updates, and budget. I asked for better communication so as to set expectations for me, and my family. I asked for this repeatedly.

The response from this owner was, well, disappointing. Opportunity lost to do some good PR. On the scale, it was an interesting letter, worthy of XDH in many respects.

Dora scares the bejezzers out of me

Dora, of Explorer fame scares the bejezzers out of me.

It really all started almost two years ago when DH and I went on a road trip with CU-3, the parental units to the States. We stopped in at a Walgreens, or some such drugstore where they sell oh so much more. I saw DH sneaking around and then out the door with a package that he refused to share the contents of. Thinking romantic thoughts, I thought he'd bought ME something nice.

Out in the parking lot, with CU-3 firmly ensconced in the car seat, he shows me a disembodied head of Dora (the rest remaining in the bag). He thought it would be cute as CU-3 so much liked Dora. I berated him telling him it was a large doll (larger then CU-3), then about the price, then about the fear factor. This was no Chucky doll to be sure, but it would eventually be used to strike fear into the unsuspecting.

Since Dora moved in, she's been used to pad out the bed (to make it look like some one was in bed, but really wasn't), pop-up in unusual places, and basically lie around to be found by a passer-by. The immediate reaction to some of these "surprises" is, seeing that CU-3's body attributes are some what like Dora, that she's been hurt or worse ...

Thus, this post. I found Dora hanging out at the bottom of the stairs. Yikes! followed by panic.

Dora, you've got to go.

It's Tuesday

And yesterday marked a banner day for me. I read a book. Actually, I finished a book that I borrowed from the library no more then three times. I can thank/blame my former neighbor for the idea of completing the book. She said that the first thing she wanted to do was to start reading again (putting the house up for sale and moving lock, stock and barrel was a grueling task).

The book title I finished? Mommies who Drink. Apropo I would say.

This, that, and the other thing

Never has so much of so little occurred in such an expanse of time.

Firstly, I'm feeling under-motivated not having connected with Perpetual Chocoholic this month. I mean I'm really suffering from withdrawal here.

Secondly, having just completed three weeks of vacation with all four CUs, I'm glad for the return to the regular schedule. CU-1 has been moving into pre-teenness with great relish and is driving me around the bend and then taking a left-turn at Alberquere. But that's his job.

Here on the home front, things have been moving ever so slowly. When we got back, the contractors still hadn't finished the job they set out to do oh way so back in January. That was a disappointment. DH and I set aside our feelings and pressed on with other immediate tasks.

Shelves went up, closet organizers organized closets, garbage (more then our city restricted three bags) went to the curb. The house is starting to look sharp. Now, it's those last ten pounds that have to be addressed. CU-4's baptism and open house Saturday is the train light at the end of the tunnel. Whoo whoo! Can you hear it coming? DH's recent bout of fluishness didn't help with the progress, though he was pretty good attending to the babes. And my burning the midnight oil has helped lots, though, when I have to wake for the four o'clock feed and do a side tangent to the bathroom only to come back to DH scowling at me as he thinks I abandoned the baby to howling makes for a cranky maman (and, regrettably children's programming only runs in 30 minute increments so just as I'm getting a really good nap in, I'm awakened with the programming announcements of CU-3).

Gotta run, my howler monkey is going off again. CU-4 doesn't like it when I'm out of site for more then his memory can keep.

Best wishes

Happy birthday Mothership!

Keep on trucking!

What can I say

It's a wild day here at the ranch. The baby CU-s are fighting over toys, the pre-teen CU-s are provoking the babies with the toys, there's a carpenter destroying the newly built bathroom because it was put in sub-par, our neighbors officially move out today, it's Wednesday so it's cleaning day. And to add insult to injury, Perpetual Chocoholic rode by and I missed her! Wah wah wah.

The va-ca-tion (how I was taught how to spell vacation) was EX-CE-LLENT! I actually only thought of the fur that was flying at the home site a couple of times. Double-excellent for me. Mind you I came back to havoc and chaos of stuff that is still not done, or is done so poorly that it's deemed unacceptable (for example, a sewer stack is duct-taped off ...).

I've got try and figure out what to do today. Library, stationary store, visit to the Guide house? All of those things need to be done, as well as care and feeding of the birds, cats, hamster and kids. I'm pretty glad that I'm not working right now, though I'll get to do this all over again next year too!

We're back

Catching up on stuff. (Yard werk primarily - more on that in another post). Meanwhile, worth viewing: PostSecret Mini-film.

On the road again

Not really again. Just on the road. More like finally.

After a nerve wracking couple of sleepless nights, DH has gone to get the rental, CU-4 is fed and watered, and CU-3 is still charging her batteries.

The Tardy Contractor has guys climbing all over our house like little worker ants. When we get home, I expect there'll still be stuff on the defecenies list (there are dings that have to be fixed as of right now, sigh. My paint job! Sob)

I'm trying to tidy-up some last minute items, mostly personal (like showering the night grime away) and a few non-personal - like making the cucumber sandwiches for CU-1, and collecting DH's pride of coffee cups that have collected around his desk.

Once the transport is loaded, we'll probably sit around waiting for the noon cut over time that DXH has so generously provided to us (two whole hours extra - cross-over at noon rather then the usual 2:00 p.m time). He couldn't allow the children to come earlier so that we could caravan with the rest of the family because they're job shadowing today. (Neither CUs are teens yet.)

So, oh well.

So, for the rest of you. I've found my address book and will call or post cards to you from points further South. I heard we're to have rain for about 1/2 of the time there. Maybe it'll only come at night.

Catch you in August.

What goes around, comes around

That idiom has particular meanings as the clock ticks down.

Waiting at the karma bus stop.

Panic, and definitions of "prompt"

Panic is setting in.

We're a week to travel. The house isn't finished. Relations are hitting the city in FIVE (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) DAYS! DXH hasn't sent the travel documentation as of yet (unless, as DH has pointed out, he's couriering it.) This last thing has me nuts. NUTS I tell you.

I've sent the yahoo emails providing as many details regarding our trip as possible. The latest went out Wednesday night. Now DXH might complain that a detailed itinerary hasn't been issued for the trip, (um, he didn't provide one for his trip.), but that could be easily slapped down as being incorrect. But, by the time that's attended to, it will be too late, and the vacation would be borked.

DH and I have been having a verbal slap-fest over this one and the definition of the word prompt as used in the arbitrated agreement: "the parents shall provide each other promptly their written consent for any cross-border travel".

I want to prepare to escalate. It will, in the smallest possible way, help me feel like I'm doing something to move things forward, even if it's ever so slowly.

Part of me wishes ill will to befall upon DXH, even if it's in the most possibly childish manner (such as "I'll remember what you've done and give it back to you too when it's my turn!"

Like when I was eight and hurt myself badly, I'm going to hole up on couch. Wait, no. I can't do that (more because I can't find the couch! then because I'm an adult and have children to take care of). Maybe I can coax them to keep me company? ;-)

Cranky, what else is new?

Oh, the perpetual feelings anger and frustration.

After a roughish sleeping night, I was awakened by the sub-project manager coming through with a carpenter asking for clarification of the deficiencies list (that I had provided to the project manager that's actually running the show, over three weeks ago).

That's not even the bad part. I was in my painting t-shirt, not having found my pajamas for the last few days now, and being utterly exhausted from giving the master bed and bath their lick of paint, when the front door opens. DH jumps over the bed to greet the sub-project manager and the carpenter de jour. Though it was a gallant attempt, in giving me a minute to get up, DH looses points shortly there after.

***

So, there I am, in a thigh-skimming t-shirt, scurrying from my rumpled nest (which consists of a mattress and box spring on the floor in the front room) towards the kitchen where there's a mountain of clean laundry waiting to be processed. I figured there had to be some clean underwear and maybe a pair of shorts in one of the baskets that I could quickly swap out with.

In the kitchen, having no time to find, let alone swap out clothes, DH takes the project manager and carpenter on the tour to show the deficiencies that still exist on the project. First the kick-plate, next the missing molding, lastly the powder room. Where am I in all of this? Desperately trying to invoke my invisibility super power, inching closer and closer to the screen door so that while the carpentry crew can't check out my modesty, the neighbors can!

The tour continues upstairs from where DH has the gall to yell down to me to clarify something on the list!

If you get a laugh from this, good. I'll laugh. Eventually. Maybe.

It's Monday at the homestead

So that usually means no one from the construction company comes.

Surprise, surprise when the HVAC guy showed up to do a bit of work. No plasterer, no floor guys though. That's not a surprise.

I, on the other hand, have been dragging my wagon around, trying to get something done. Got a load of laundry in and on to the line, and a have a second coat of paint onto the study walls. I'm not a particularly good painter, and it shows. But, it'll hold until I can get the money together (if ever) to get the walls professionally painted. (Maybe if I win the hospital lottery draw today, this won't be an issue!!)

Bagged

Seems that I'm making up for the lack of progress in recent weeks. Painting, tile installation, moving, clearing, and more installing, and that's just the inside job. Phew.

Tomorrow the plasterer comes to look at his job. I'm going to have him focus on two of the four areas he worked on as I've already started to paint and don't want to have to do it again. Supposedly the flooring guy is supposed to be in tomorrow. I'm not holding my breath. The contractor's been saying that for two weeks now.

Some where in the detritus of my kitchen (where everything from the study, which is being painted, has been shifted to) is my agenda. I certainly hope that I don't have anything planned for early this week 'cause I don't know about it!

Primed

Well, the walls have been plastered and sanded. Now it's time for me to kick into high gear. The problem with that is that my gears feel stripped. After putting in a full day amusing to and attending to every one of CU-4s needs, followed by an intense four-to-six hour shift with CU-3, I then get the privilege to put in another four to five hours painting?

This is where I wish I had an extra five grand in my pocket to go "Krunk this" and hire help to paint every freaking wall in my house ...

Seeing that that isn't going to happen in my life time, I'd better get back at er.

And saints be praised

The amazing plasterer is here to work his magic. Hallelujah.

Does it really have to get worse before it get's better?

There really must be some turning point to that statement. I was contemplating the adage as I was taking new construction/house pictures for show-and-tell.

The front room is a big improvement, though I am vehemently against televisions in the bedroom (for reasons still unknown to me). (My bed is current in front of the TV, when it's on the floor, that is. So, it's not a good thing.)

Got a wake up call this morning. It wasn't DH giving me his travel status, but the contractor/company owner himself. Calls out to his number two man wasn't getting any attention, so I upped the anti yesterday afternoon by inviting him for a walk-through through this site. Got his attention, though as far as I can tell, he's not taking me up on my invite. And I'd bake a cake too.

No, no. Instead, he asked me for a copy of the deficiencies list (which the project manager already has) and kept on about "If you're not happy, I'm not happy." I told him there was very little more he could do to make me happy except to finish up and get out of my house. Really.

Oh there was so much back-peddling, the guy could have been in the circus. He tried to tell me the length of the project was Y, and I had to remind him it was X and that we'd not seen a projected project plan since the one that identified we'd be done six weeks prior. (BTW telling me the project could have lasted four and a half months, and here we're sitting at the seven month mark doesn't really make that much of a difference does it?)

So here we are now. The guy asking for two more weeks to be done. Sure. Go right ahead. I'm not going anywhere, nor is the house. What else am I to do? I still don't think you're going to have the trades lined up to deal with the issues I presented to your minion several weeks ago addressed (like the ding in the NEW bathtub. And hey, how about some handles for the door? Oh, yes, and then there's the trim work that's still not done, the speed holes in the bathroom because the HVAC guy moved the fan and didn't hook it back up, blah blah blah.)

I really just want you all out so that I can bork my house on my own.

Inconsiderate stuff

Well, what suckage this morning to get up (late), get out the door running, only to do the shoulder check to see vandalism done to our yard. It wasn't much - the dicky little fence and lighting around the corner, but it was enough to pause and slow our progress as I heaved the fence out of the middle of the road back into a temporary place.

Drunks. It's drunks on a rip, going through the hood. Our neighbor got the same treatment last year. Nothing else was touched. Not the ceramic pig, the plastic turkey vulture, the polar bear cut out. Not the plastic pumpkin statue or the lady bug. My Russian Sage got a bit chewed up though. Minor stuff for living in this 'hood.

Oh, and for those of you who keep track, no plasterer today. This means no sanding, which means no painting, which means no room shifting, which, ultimately means, no progress.

Waiting for September. We might be done by then.

Plastered

That seems to be the latest joke around here. I'm getting plastered. Well, my house is. I'm not. Maybe I should do that. Might help lift my spirits.

I've been getting the feeling of late that I'm just not getting a lot done. I feel that when DH is home, I get a bit more motivated to do things.

Could be the result of the natural chemical cycle, that I've hit the 1/2 way point of my home stay with CU-4, heat, lack of sleep or the zillion year old mattress.

Lately I've been disasterizing everything. I'm hoping it's just fatigue talking.

I need a nap.

Life, laziness and everything

So construction is grinding along - it seems that I can actually get things done faster then they can these days.

Was it just the other day that I asked the sub-Project Manager if we were going to be done before the end of July? I guess it was.

Grandma C had some sage advice which I now paraphrase regularly put your expectations that it will be done by September so you wont be so disappointed, and you could have a thrill if they're actually done by August!

Summer time and the lawlessness abounds

At this end of the country I'm having several WTF moments.

Working backwards:

WTF #1:
Canada Post has issued me a delivery notice to pick up my parcel tomorrow at their local drop-off site. Funny that. I was home, sitting at my kitchen table as I watched the delivery truck roll down the street. Did it matter that we've installed a door bell that plays the theme song to the Magnificent Seven? (my DH's choice), or that the door was wide open? or that the driver also left another parcel for CU-2? I guess not. Calling Customer Service didn't help much.


WTF #2:
Just coming back from picking up a few groceries, I see a black van with special *twinkly* lights. I recognized the van, and the burly guys all dressed in black emptying out of it as I'd witnessed something similar in one of my old 'hoods while taking a much younger version of Cu-1 and 2 to the park. These special cops, along with the regularly uniformed ones, plus the special canine unit were walking around the block where my home is located. The regular copy said I'd nothing to worry about and that nothing was going on. While taking down the laundry a few minutes later, the canine unit had asked if I'd seen some one scurrying across the back yard, possibly a la Ferris Buller. Nope. Only a squirrel with extremely large nads.

WTF #3:
Was out at a piece of outdoor culture yesterday, enjoying myself at the community park, when in came a couple with a large dog. When they were told it was a no dog park, they moved approximately 1 metre to the North of where the whole family was sitting. Upon giving my husband the dirty look, he handed me his cell phone so that I could call by-law. The couple had sited that they just moved to the neighborhood and didn't realize it was a no-dog park. Um. There are signs at all entrances ... Their leaving the park didn't give me cause to disconnect the call as there was another dog, (white lab?) tied to the tree. No water, no attention given to it. No indication who the owner was. After 40 minutes, the by-law officers showed up. The owners and their CUs disengaged themselves from the free entertainment we were enjoying, to confront the officers. Perhaps they learned, the hard way, that it is a no dog park with a $120 fine.

WTF #4:
Not ten minues after the family and their pooch left the park that a lady and her two Westies came in. She preceded to tell me that she didn't know this was a no dog park (even though I warned her about the fine that I just witnessed) and that she regularly brings her dogs there in the evening, particularly in winter, when no one was there. When I pushed to say that the fine is $120, and that they're doing construction all around the park so that there will be more eyes on the park, she said she'd be willing to chance the fine. Ok. So noted.

WTF #5:
Mexican stand-off with another chick-maiden about her dogs. She's shown the "screw you" attititude as she's been coming back to the park the same time every day now for several days. I'll just keep calling by-law until this matter is resolved, unless I happen to be able to identify her abodal address, then they can take the complaint, and the fine to her directly. (Doesn't help her case much that I've got pictures of the first infraction of her dog taking a crap in the park, and that the last time her dog came up and sniffed and licked me. No one does that uninvited.)