Well.
Here we are.
A quick summary: we moved, we settled, we have resumed the daily grind. New school, some new friends, a few new adventures. The kids are in Scouts and swimming lessons, with soccer starting in the spring. We have a new kitty, named Jack. He is poofy and fluffy, and super skittish with people, though he adores Pip, his BFF. Fran is happy that the boys chum around together and leave her alone.
I am plotting some painting, to change up the heinous orangey colour we currently have in our living room. And then it occurred to me that we don't have to live with the bandage colour on the kitchen cabinets...so there's another leeeetle project (there's only about a million doors and drawer fronts to remove and paint). Should keep us busy all spring/summer.
One of my favouritest things about this house is that I now have a huge, window-filled sewing room. It is teh awsum. My mind is in that room most of the time, even when my body cannot be. Right now I am working on a copy of my favourite blue jeans, a project I have been planning for about a year. Intimidation kept me from beginning for a long time, but now that I have dived in, I am really impressed at how well it's all going. I'm so excited to see how they turn out--and pumped to start the next pair!
Fighting illness....crushing fatigue....fingers too tired....to type.....
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
BREAKING NEWS: I AM A MORON
I had to do it. I had to put it right there on the internet for everyone to see. Not that anyone looked (*crickets chirping*), but still. I typed the word "unstressed." Right there near the top of my last post. See it? (*crickets chirping*) Right.
So today was shaping up to be pretty chill. We headed to the lake with Grandpa to partake in the first boat ride of the season. Before we left, I sort of scanned the house, noted that it was a bit of a sty, and went, "Eh, we'll get to it later/tomorrow." Then we all piled into the van and drove far, far away. Okay, we only drove for an hour or so--in Alberta that's like the next neighbourhood over.
We pulled into a parking space near the boat launch, and my phone rang. It was our realtor. Someone wanted to see our house! This was exciting, we hadn't had one single showing yet and we were beginning to feel slightly offended by it. Then he told us when they wanted to see the house, and things got a little more exciting. We whipped the carseats into Grandpa's truck, and I sped back into town solo, to whip the house back into shape. I only took two wrong turns on the way back home (shoulda paid more attention on the way out) and got home with roughly 45 minutes to make the house look perfect.
There were dirty dishes in the sink and on the stove. There were (heavy) moving boxes near the back door. There was (clean) laundry heaped in baskets in the laundry room. There was an appalling amount of dried foody bits scattered under the table. There were two cats and their accoutrements (water, food, poo, etc) to spirit away. I sprinted through the house, wiping, hiding, vacuuming, sweating. In the end, I dashed out, kitties in tow, with about 5 minutes to spare. Then I skulked around the neighbourhood and stalked my own house, to discover that they didn't show up until very near the end of the hour allotted to them. All those precious minutes I could have spent mopping/dusting/sprinkling unicorn tears in an effort to SELL THIS HOUSE! Ah well, I think it looked purty darn good. I even hid the empty beer cans. And stashed a crusty pan in the cupboard.
AND, there was another showing an hour after that one. I am waiting for the offers to roll in! Come on people, throw your money at me! Gently, but insistently!
I learned a valuable lesson today: driving to the lake is a regrettable waste of time. No, wait--procrastination will pretty much always bite you in the ass. Yeah, that's it. But the lake thing sucked too. Are the bugs always that big out there? Next time I'm staying home to compulsively dust things.
So today was shaping up to be pretty chill. We headed to the lake with Grandpa to partake in the first boat ride of the season. Before we left, I sort of scanned the house, noted that it was a bit of a sty, and went, "Eh, we'll get to it later/tomorrow." Then we all piled into the van and drove far, far away. Okay, we only drove for an hour or so--in Alberta that's like the next neighbourhood over.
We pulled into a parking space near the boat launch, and my phone rang. It was our realtor. Someone wanted to see our house! This was exciting, we hadn't had one single showing yet and we were beginning to feel slightly offended by it. Then he told us when they wanted to see the house, and things got a little more exciting. We whipped the carseats into Grandpa's truck, and I sped back into town solo, to whip the house back into shape. I only took two wrong turns on the way back home (shoulda paid more attention on the way out) and got home with roughly 45 minutes to make the house look perfect.
There were dirty dishes in the sink and on the stove. There were (heavy) moving boxes near the back door. There was (clean) laundry heaped in baskets in the laundry room. There was an appalling amount of dried foody bits scattered under the table. There were two cats and their accoutrements (water, food, poo, etc) to spirit away. I sprinted through the house, wiping, hiding, vacuuming, sweating. In the end, I dashed out, kitties in tow, with about 5 minutes to spare. Then I skulked around the neighbourhood and stalked my own house, to discover that they didn't show up until very near the end of the hour allotted to them. All those precious minutes I could have spent mopping/dusting/sprinkling unicorn tears in an effort to SELL THIS HOUSE! Ah well, I think it looked purty darn good. I even hid the empty beer cans. And stashed a crusty pan in the cupboard.
AND, there was another showing an hour after that one. I am waiting for the offers to roll in! Come on people, throw your money at me! Gently, but insistently!
I learned a valuable lesson today: driving to the lake is a regrettable waste of time. No, wait--procrastination will pretty much always bite you in the ass. Yeah, that's it. But the lake thing sucked too. Are the bugs always that big out there? Next time I'm staying home to compulsively dust things.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Final Countdown
It's coming up fast now. 10 days until we take possession of the new place. 10 days to pack.
Whew, I think I just hyperventilated a little bit there.
Mostly I am feeling strangely unstressed about it all, actually. Sure, I'm laying awake until the wee hours every night, remembering all the THINGS I NEED TO REMEMBER TO DO, ON PAIN OF DEATH (lawyers, realtors, documents, handing over vast sums of money boo hoo, blah blah blah), but honestly? I am handling it all very well. No hives, even!
Today I packed up the kids and we drove downtown to drop off some paperwork. I found a great parking spot, had juuuuust enough change to plug the meter, we found the correct address semi-quickly (why don't all those buildings have their addresses more prominently displayed? We had to walk halfway down the wrong street before I could find a building number anywhere), everyone kept their pants dry--even me! ha, couldn't resist a cheap shot, even at myself--and once in the correct office we were served quickly and pleasantly.
The kids were relatively awesome about it all, and I only had to get a little ominous while enforcing the handholding-while-crossing-street rule, so to demonstrate my resultant joie de vivre I took the kids to the museum where we stayed for HOURS. At least two of those hours were spent repeatedly shuttling J and his tiny, tiny bladder to the bathroom, where I had to inform my dismayed Big Boys that they had to come in the ladies' room with me. Who knew a 7 year old could do bershon so well?
After the museum kicked us out we swam upstream through stat-holiday-eve (Happy Birfday, Canada!) rush hour traffic, and got home just as the clock struck Dinnertime. I managed to pull together a meal in 15 minutes, because I rock. Or maybe because I took the easy way out and heated something up. I'll never tell.
Once we'd filled our faces, I took G out on a date, as reward/reinforcement for his suddenly agreeing with his parents, grandparents, and pretty much everyone else in the world that consistently using the toilet, no nagging or hovering necessary, is a good idea. And oh man, it is SUCH a good idea. I only wish he'd agreed with me about 2.5 years ago when we started the toileting process. But who's counting? To celebrate achieving what was beginning to look unachievable, we took ourselves to yonder cinema, donned the geeky glasses and watched "Up" in 3D. It was a great show. Except for that bit where they made me cry.
I do enjoy Pixar's films. But why oh why do they suckerpunch me every time? You'd think I'd have learned by now, it's not like they stray from the formula. They give you five minutes of happy and cute, sweetness and light, and then BAM someone is dead. Remember "Finding Nemo?" I still can't watch the first bit where--spoiler alert!--Mom and a hundred or so of Nemo's siblings get munched up. I'm going to start arriving 10 minutes late, so the downer bit is out of the way before I begin watching. I'm pretty sure I can pick up the storyline, no problem. Or maybe I'll bring the laptop and watch something uplifting until the weepy part has passed. Nobody would mind, right? It wouldn't be hard to concentrate on a feature film with, say, this playing quietly in the theatre, am I right?
God, that video makes me happy. If the next 10 days--10 days!!-- start to bring me down, I will put it on continuous loop.
Whew, I think I just hyperventilated a little bit there.
Mostly I am feeling strangely unstressed about it all, actually. Sure, I'm laying awake until the wee hours every night, remembering all the THINGS I NEED TO REMEMBER TO DO, ON PAIN OF DEATH (lawyers, realtors, documents, handing over vast sums of money boo hoo, blah blah blah), but honestly? I am handling it all very well. No hives, even!
Today I packed up the kids and we drove downtown to drop off some paperwork. I found a great parking spot, had juuuuust enough change to plug the meter, we found the correct address semi-quickly (why don't all those buildings have their addresses more prominently displayed? We had to walk halfway down the wrong street before I could find a building number anywhere), everyone kept their pants dry--even me! ha, couldn't resist a cheap shot, even at myself--and once in the correct office we were served quickly and pleasantly.
The kids were relatively awesome about it all, and I only had to get a little ominous while enforcing the handholding-while-crossing-street rule, so to demonstrate my resultant joie de vivre I took the kids to the museum where we stayed for HOURS. At least two of those hours were spent repeatedly shuttling J and his tiny, tiny bladder to the bathroom, where I had to inform my dismayed Big Boys that they had to come in the ladies' room with me. Who knew a 7 year old could do bershon so well?
After the museum kicked us out we swam upstream through stat-holiday-eve (Happy Birfday, Canada!) rush hour traffic, and got home just as the clock struck Dinnertime. I managed to pull together a meal in 15 minutes, because I rock. Or maybe because I took the easy way out and heated something up. I'll never tell.
Once we'd filled our faces, I took G out on a date, as reward/reinforcement for his suddenly agreeing with his parents, grandparents, and pretty much everyone else in the world that consistently using the toilet, no nagging or hovering necessary, is a good idea. And oh man, it is SUCH a good idea. I only wish he'd agreed with me about 2.5 years ago when we started the toileting process. But who's counting? To celebrate achieving what was beginning to look unachievable, we took ourselves to yonder cinema, donned the geeky glasses and watched "Up" in 3D. It was a great show. Except for that bit where they made me cry.
I do enjoy Pixar's films. But why oh why do they suckerpunch me every time? You'd think I'd have learned by now, it's not like they stray from the formula. They give you five minutes of happy and cute, sweetness and light, and then BAM someone is dead. Remember "Finding Nemo?" I still can't watch the first bit where--spoiler alert!--Mom and a hundred or so of Nemo's siblings get munched up. I'm going to start arriving 10 minutes late, so the downer bit is out of the way before I begin watching. I'm pretty sure I can pick up the storyline, no problem. Or maybe I'll bring the laptop and watch something uplifting until the weepy part has passed. Nobody would mind, right? It wouldn't be hard to concentrate on a feature film with, say, this playing quietly in the theatre, am I right?
God, that video makes me happy. If the next 10 days--10 days!!-- start to bring me down, I will put it on continuous loop.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Can't Hardly Wait
We have been busy like beavers here. Our house is on the market as of today, and there is a big, lovely house awaiting us (we take possession in three weeks!!) in my dream neighbourhood. The past few weeks have been spent clearing five years' worth of clutter from this house, and making what was left look as nice as possible. Now we just have to keep it all looking perfect in case anyone wants to come look and shower us with money for the privelege of living here. No pressure.
Actually, the kids have been quite great about humouring their uptight mother. "Don't touch that!" "Put that back!" "You're not going to play with those toys, are you?" "Stop having fun! It's too messy!" We are just going to find as much to do away from the house as we can, outings galore.
We were housebound this week, as the kids all fell ill again. This time was pretty rough--many, many days (and nights) of fever, a bit of barf, and a dash of diarrhea for good measure. G was the first to fall, and then N and J soon after. Poor G slept away a couple of days, and looks a bit skinnier now than he did a week ago. Upon our return to school today (which I wasn't entirely sure was a good idea, since he's still coughing so much), the teachers handed me a notice from the public health board stating that there has been a confirmed case of swine flu at the school. Hmm. I had been thinking about taking G to the doc, but just when I got to the "if he's not better by tomorrow" point, he got better. J is still fevery, and now I'm getting The Sick. I wonder if he and I should swing by a walk-in clinic tomorrow? I hate to drag my germy children through a waiting room full of people who are already not well. I also hate to be branded with the leperous swine flu tag. Perhaps if I call our regular doc ahead of time, they could meet us at the door with hazmat suits, or usher us inside via a secret, underground corridor. Then they can draw blood and marvel at its greenish hue before plastering a flourescent warning sticker on us and shoving us out into the cold. Wait, it's really hot out--before shoving us out into the blistering heat.
Gee, I hope we get a ton of interest in the house this week so I can drag my fevered, sweating carcass, cats and children in tow, to find Something Fun to occupy a couple of hours.
Okay, the new house--I feel like it's too awesome for us. Should we be allowed to live somewhere so awesome? Have we exceeded our awesome allowance? Firstly, it's big. It's really big. It's bigger than we need. Second, it's updated. We don't need to redo floors or rip out a kitchen or anything. Alright, so there's a few fixy bits to take care of, but it looks all purty inside. Finally, and most importantly, it's in an amazing location. There are places to walk to! The streets are lined with trees! The neighbouring yards are well-kept!
I have been so preoccupied with making this place look like a lovely, inviting home that I have given little thought to the lovely, inviting home waiting for us. I'm starting to get excited now.
Actually, the kids have been quite great about humouring their uptight mother. "Don't touch that!" "Put that back!" "You're not going to play with those toys, are you?" "Stop having fun! It's too messy!" We are just going to find as much to do away from the house as we can, outings galore.
We were housebound this week, as the kids all fell ill again. This time was pretty rough--many, many days (and nights) of fever, a bit of barf, and a dash of diarrhea for good measure. G was the first to fall, and then N and J soon after. Poor G slept away a couple of days, and looks a bit skinnier now than he did a week ago. Upon our return to school today (which I wasn't entirely sure was a good idea, since he's still coughing so much), the teachers handed me a notice from the public health board stating that there has been a confirmed case of swine flu at the school. Hmm. I had been thinking about taking G to the doc, but just when I got to the "if he's not better by tomorrow" point, he got better. J is still fevery, and now I'm getting The Sick. I wonder if he and I should swing by a walk-in clinic tomorrow? I hate to drag my germy children through a waiting room full of people who are already not well. I also hate to be branded with the leperous swine flu tag. Perhaps if I call our regular doc ahead of time, they could meet us at the door with hazmat suits, or usher us inside via a secret, underground corridor. Then they can draw blood and marvel at its greenish hue before plastering a flourescent warning sticker on us and shoving us out into the cold. Wait, it's really hot out--before shoving us out into the blistering heat.
Gee, I hope we get a ton of interest in the house this week so I can drag my fevered, sweating carcass, cats and children in tow, to find Something Fun to occupy a couple of hours.
Okay, the new house--I feel like it's too awesome for us. Should we be allowed to live somewhere so awesome? Have we exceeded our awesome allowance? Firstly, it's big. It's really big. It's bigger than we need. Second, it's updated. We don't need to redo floors or rip out a kitchen or anything. Alright, so there's a few fixy bits to take care of, but it looks all purty inside. Finally, and most importantly, it's in an amazing location. There are places to walk to! The streets are lined with trees! The neighbouring yards are well-kept!
I have been so preoccupied with making this place look like a lovely, inviting home that I have given little thought to the lovely, inviting home waiting for us. I'm starting to get excited now.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Of Fancy Pants and Stinky Pants
My fancypants morning coffees are much fancier in the pants than I'd dreamed. After one day of drinking perfectly nice moka-pot coffee, I was presented with a Mother's Day present of a real, actual, shiny espresso machine. Woo! Puts my little $10 coffee pot to shame. It still looks sweet sitting on the counter next to the shiny, shiny machine.
The kids are abed (cuddled up together in my room) and Husband is out for a night of poker. It is dark and quiet in the house, and I keep hearing neighbours outside, which makes me sit up straight and stiff the way dogs do when they hear a deer clear its throat four miles away. I am paranoid that one kid will wake and disturb the others, which is the downside of having the three of them sleep together. They were up late for the second night in a row (long weekend, yo!), and I want them to sleep well and not be total poops tomorrow.
Speaking of poops--and what a marvelous segue that is--J is terribly squirty from the bum this week. The poor kid shat down his legs three times today, and his little nethers are red and sore. I have been doing the grossest laundry imaginable, and there is no end in sight. I ran out to get Pedialyte today because he is shooting so much liquid out his rear that I am expecting him to shrivel up like a stinky little raisin soon. Fortunately, he thinks that stuff is nectar of the gods, so he must be at least reasonably hydrated now. He is miffed that I won't let him have dairy, but he is happy as heck to eat plain rice cakes. Small victories.
J's nasty sickbutt forced us to change plans on Friday night, since the littles were going to hang with Grandpa, and we decided not to inflict the liquid poo on a poor, defenceless, old man with a bad knee. N was performing his Happy Drummer dance at a Chinese song and dance night (they had a more refined name for the evening which I cannot currently recall), and we opted to leave the shorter attention spans at home. So N and I wolfed dinner and left his dad and brothers to run downtown to an arts school, where the theater was located. We pulled up to the (totally unfamiliar) building and I realized that nobody was there. Poor N was getting a bit worried, as we were already a few minutes late and we had no idea where we needed to be. We started jogging around the building, looking for signage or some other clue to point us in the right direction, when a stranger pulled her car over and told us she could show us where to go. I guess N's blue satin pants with gold sequins were a tip-off that we were looking for the theater (what, these old things?).
I love that lady--she told us to hop into her car, then drove us all the way around the block to a totally different building that I didn't even know was part of the school. I would never have found the place on my own! She dropped us right at the door, bless her, then toodled off to find parking. The serendipity train just kept right on rolling--now we were at the right building, but where the heck were we supposed to go once we got inside? N's classmate M arrived just then, and we tagged along and ran downstairs through a maze I couldn't have navigated without assistance. I was so, so grateful for the well-timed help. And I felt a little like a dolt for not knowing where we should be. Bad mom!
All's well that ends well; N was so blasted cute onstage, and enjoyed himself thoroughly. I was reminded again that I really need to get schooled in the Mandarin language, because I would have loved to understand even a bit of the emcee chitchat. We watched several acts after his performance was finished, and then we cut out to grab ice cream on the way home. He was floating all night. Next week he does it again at a different venue, and this time I will have DETAILS about precisely where we need to be and how to get there. And we will leave early.
And after cancelling the Grandpa and making Husband stay home, J's bum stayed explosionless all night. Ah well. (He made up for it today.)
The kids are abed (cuddled up together in my room) and Husband is out for a night of poker. It is dark and quiet in the house, and I keep hearing neighbours outside, which makes me sit up straight and stiff the way dogs do when they hear a deer clear its throat four miles away. I am paranoid that one kid will wake and disturb the others, which is the downside of having the three of them sleep together. They were up late for the second night in a row (long weekend, yo!), and I want them to sleep well and not be total poops tomorrow.
Speaking of poops--and what a marvelous segue that is--J is terribly squirty from the bum this week. The poor kid shat down his legs three times today, and his little nethers are red and sore. I have been doing the grossest laundry imaginable, and there is no end in sight. I ran out to get Pedialyte today because he is shooting so much liquid out his rear that I am expecting him to shrivel up like a stinky little raisin soon. Fortunately, he thinks that stuff is nectar of the gods, so he must be at least reasonably hydrated now. He is miffed that I won't let him have dairy, but he is happy as heck to eat plain rice cakes. Small victories.
J's nasty sickbutt forced us to change plans on Friday night, since the littles were going to hang with Grandpa, and we decided not to inflict the liquid poo on a poor, defenceless, old man with a bad knee. N was performing his Happy Drummer dance at a Chinese song and dance night (they had a more refined name for the evening which I cannot currently recall), and we opted to leave the shorter attention spans at home. So N and I wolfed dinner and left his dad and brothers to run downtown to an arts school, where the theater was located. We pulled up to the (totally unfamiliar) building and I realized that nobody was there. Poor N was getting a bit worried, as we were already a few minutes late and we had no idea where we needed to be. We started jogging around the building, looking for signage or some other clue to point us in the right direction, when a stranger pulled her car over and told us she could show us where to go. I guess N's blue satin pants with gold sequins were a tip-off that we were looking for the theater (what, these old things?).
I love that lady--she told us to hop into her car, then drove us all the way around the block to a totally different building that I didn't even know was part of the school. I would never have found the place on my own! She dropped us right at the door, bless her, then toodled off to find parking. The serendipity train just kept right on rolling--now we were at the right building, but where the heck were we supposed to go once we got inside? N's classmate M arrived just then, and we tagged along and ran downstairs through a maze I couldn't have navigated without assistance. I was so, so grateful for the well-timed help. And I felt a little like a dolt for not knowing where we should be. Bad mom!
All's well that ends well; N was so blasted cute onstage, and enjoyed himself thoroughly. I was reminded again that I really need to get schooled in the Mandarin language, because I would have loved to understand even a bit of the emcee chitchat. We watched several acts after his performance was finished, and then we cut out to grab ice cream on the way home. He was floating all night. Next week he does it again at a different venue, and this time I will have DETAILS about precisely where we need to be and how to get there. And we will leave early.
And after cancelling the Grandpa and making Husband stay home, J's bum stayed explosionless all night. Ah well. (He made up for it today.)
Friday, May 8, 2009
Yadda Yadda
Lessee, last time I posted, I was recovering from a nasty flu. That's right about where I am this time too, only it was a much nastier version this time. (Swine flu? Doubtful.) Fortunately, nobody else in my family was felled.
My birthday boys had a lovely party together, and I am so happy that I didn't have to do two parties. It worked really well, and I loved watching them all run around like a pack of deranged, beautiful animals. The weather cooperated, and we managed to get a bit of outdoor playtime, trotting out the bouncy house again. (I'm sure the neighbours are sick to death of listening to the fan start up every time my kids are in the yard, but man, we've really gotten our money's worth out of that thing.) My trick cake (slices of pound cake with orangey icing in the middle, to look like grilled cheese sandwiches) fooled them all--unfortunately, they were so convinced that they politely declined to eat any. "No, it's really cake!" I told them. "Honest!" They remained dubious. Even the kids who politely agreed to the crazy sandwich-pusher ate the other stuff and left the cake. Lesson learned.
So now I am mother to a 3 year old, a 4 year old, and a 7 year old. Whoa. Those kids are practically senior citizens--how did they get so damn old? Their advanced ages are really apparent lately because I have been reacquainting myself with their baby photos. All of our photos from 2002 (the year of N's birth) through 2005 (the year after G was born) were stored in a computer that suddenly died one day. I was so worried that the photos would be irretrievable that I refused to address the issue for four years. The computer tower has been stored in the basement, waiting for the day that I would admit it was time to take it to a shop for data recovery. That day finally came last week, and despite my adding to the challenge by DROPPING IT ON THE CONCRETE as I struggled to carry it into the building, they saved every last photo and video. Bless those geeks, I could kiss every last one of them.
Since then, I have been obssessively clicking through photo after photo after video after photo of the most amazingly gorgeous babies in the history of the world. Seriously, I make cute kids. And oh, how I miss those chubby thighs! Not that I am really jonesing to gestate another one--but now they're all so large and gangly and ancient. I'm just a little wistful, is all. It really does go fast.
My dad popped in this week, delighting the boys beyond measure. Every night before bed, J would hug him, then give him the Serious Eyes and tell him sternly, "You don't go anywhere while I am sleeping, alright?" Apparently he was deeply scarred by a previous stealth exit by my dad, which none of us remember.
I did the morning school run today (usually Husband's jurisdiction), and slept later than I'd planned. When you don't set an alarm because you are always up by a certain time, you are pretty much guaranteed to sleep well past that certain time. Fortunately, the kids were on the ball and woke me in time to put on some pants and brush my teeth before we had to dash to school. And that's about as far as I got with making myself presentable today. No makeup, unwashed hair, no bra! Egads. And I went out three times, dropping off kids, picking them up, running errands...I feel a tiny bit rebellious, but also a bit like I just proved a point I already knew to be true. Like, surprise, the entire city didn't issue a collective gasp at the sight of me without makeup...though my greasy hair may have earned a sideways glance or two. Whatevs.
I have been knocking a few longstanding items off my to-do list, and it feels GOOD. Today I finally fixed the latch strike on the front door, which has been nonfunctional for, oh, about two years. The door wouldn't latch when we closed it, and we had to turn the bolt to keep it from blowing open with a breeze. My dad found a replacement and removed the old one, and then it stayed like that for several months. To be fair, it wouldn't have been a pleasant job to do in the dead of a harsh winter, what with the working in the open doorway. Today I locked the curious kitty in the bathroom and bashed a chisel into the doorframe for a while, and now there is a most satisfying click when the door is closed. Yay! Last week I installed blinds in two windows which have been nude for the five years we have lived here. Go me! I'm on a roll.
I have been coveting a home espresso machine lately, but simply cannot justify the cost. So today I impulsively bought something like this (mine has a glossy white enamel on the top half), all giddy to come home and try it out with the finely ground espresso I'd inadvertently bought instead of regular ol' coffee. Alas, I discovered that all that finely ground espresso had been used up, because we just dumped it into our regular ol' coffee maker anyway. Thwarted! By the time I picked up some more, it was too late to be indulging in caffeinated anything, so my taste test will have to be in the morning. Now I just need one of these, and I'll be set. Woohoo! Now I can feel all fancy-pants with my morning coffee. Can't wait!
My birthday boys had a lovely party together, and I am so happy that I didn't have to do two parties. It worked really well, and I loved watching them all run around like a pack of deranged, beautiful animals. The weather cooperated, and we managed to get a bit of outdoor playtime, trotting out the bouncy house again. (I'm sure the neighbours are sick to death of listening to the fan start up every time my kids are in the yard, but man, we've really gotten our money's worth out of that thing.) My trick cake (slices of pound cake with orangey icing in the middle, to look like grilled cheese sandwiches) fooled them all--unfortunately, they were so convinced that they politely declined to eat any. "No, it's really cake!" I told them. "Honest!" They remained dubious. Even the kids who politely agreed to the crazy sandwich-pusher ate the other stuff and left the cake. Lesson learned.
So now I am mother to a 3 year old, a 4 year old, and a 7 year old. Whoa. Those kids are practically senior citizens--how did they get so damn old? Their advanced ages are really apparent lately because I have been reacquainting myself with their baby photos. All of our photos from 2002 (the year of N's birth) through 2005 (the year after G was born) were stored in a computer that suddenly died one day. I was so worried that the photos would be irretrievable that I refused to address the issue for four years. The computer tower has been stored in the basement, waiting for the day that I would admit it was time to take it to a shop for data recovery. That day finally came last week, and despite my adding to the challenge by DROPPING IT ON THE CONCRETE as I struggled to carry it into the building, they saved every last photo and video. Bless those geeks, I could kiss every last one of them.
Since then, I have been obssessively clicking through photo after photo after video after photo of the most amazingly gorgeous babies in the history of the world. Seriously, I make cute kids. And oh, how I miss those chubby thighs! Not that I am really jonesing to gestate another one--but now they're all so large and gangly and ancient. I'm just a little wistful, is all. It really does go fast.
My dad popped in this week, delighting the boys beyond measure. Every night before bed, J would hug him, then give him the Serious Eyes and tell him sternly, "You don't go anywhere while I am sleeping, alright?" Apparently he was deeply scarred by a previous stealth exit by my dad, which none of us remember.
I did the morning school run today (usually Husband's jurisdiction), and slept later than I'd planned. When you don't set an alarm because you are always up by a certain time, you are pretty much guaranteed to sleep well past that certain time. Fortunately, the kids were on the ball and woke me in time to put on some pants and brush my teeth before we had to dash to school. And that's about as far as I got with making myself presentable today. No makeup, unwashed hair, no bra! Egads. And I went out three times, dropping off kids, picking them up, running errands...I feel a tiny bit rebellious, but also a bit like I just proved a point I already knew to be true. Like, surprise, the entire city didn't issue a collective gasp at the sight of me without makeup...though my greasy hair may have earned a sideways glance or two. Whatevs.
I have been knocking a few longstanding items off my to-do list, and it feels GOOD. Today I finally fixed the latch strike on the front door, which has been nonfunctional for, oh, about two years. The door wouldn't latch when we closed it, and we had to turn the bolt to keep it from blowing open with a breeze. My dad found a replacement and removed the old one, and then it stayed like that for several months. To be fair, it wouldn't have been a pleasant job to do in the dead of a harsh winter, what with the working in the open doorway. Today I locked the curious kitty in the bathroom and bashed a chisel into the doorframe for a while, and now there is a most satisfying click when the door is closed. Yay! Last week I installed blinds in two windows which have been nude for the five years we have lived here. Go me! I'm on a roll.
I have been coveting a home espresso machine lately, but simply cannot justify the cost. So today I impulsively bought something like this (mine has a glossy white enamel on the top half), all giddy to come home and try it out with the finely ground espresso I'd inadvertently bought instead of regular ol' coffee. Alas, I discovered that all that finely ground espresso had been used up, because we just dumped it into our regular ol' coffee maker anyway. Thwarted! By the time I picked up some more, it was too late to be indulging in caffeinated anything, so my taste test will have to be in the morning. Now I just need one of these, and I'll be set. Woohoo! Now I can feel all fancy-pants with my morning coffee. Can't wait!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Fever! In The Morning, Fever All Through The Night
I am cuddled up to a slightly fevery boy. I was going to write "baby," but that's not really correct anymore. Baby J is going to be 3 in less than a month. Ouch.
He and I have a rotten cold/flu/walking death thing, though I have to say he's gotten the worst of it. Last night he was so hot it was worrisome--fevers are not something that typically shake me, but this one was persistent in the face of Tylenol and Advil, and that had me sleeping very, very lightly. The fever broke sometime during the night, but by morning his little hand, still wrapped around mine as he slept, was aflame again. Now he's got a regular old garden-variety fever, held easily at bay with one medication at a time. But he still gets to sleep with mama so she can check his temperature, by way of a kiss on the forehead, several times through the night.
The bigs are watching Star Wars with daddy right now, even though it's long past bedtime. The day was turning into a bit of a nightmare, so naps were dispensed all round and evening was salvaged. But a nap at 4 pm means bedtime is out the window. For them, anyway--I will be nodding off shortly.
Birthday Mania is about to set in. I was starting to wonder how we could possibly cram two birthday parties into the same month (with at least three other parties to attend), when I asked N if he would mind having a joint party with J. I thought he might feel ripped off, but au contraire, he lit up. Two cakes? Sold! Now I kind of wish I'd had all three boys in the same month, so I could just have one party.
Of course, if I were going to map out due dates, I don't know that I'd choose April. Sure, it sounds lovely, but the reality of April here is slush and mud and exasperation at the snail's pace of spring. We've had a spate of deceptively sunny days, bright and beckoning, but packing a bone-chilling breeze. Today was purely gorgeous though, warm sunbeams (the better for napping in) and mild air, all promises of beautiful days to come.
Not that I should complain, we were lucky enough recently to pack up and spend two weeks in lovely Mexico. We even managed to time it so we missed a record-breaking cold snap. Yay, us! I was terribly nervous about travelling with the kids, but they were marvelous. They loved every minute of the trip, even the turbulence we flew through as we made our descent into Cancun. The gut-dropping lurches and bumps made them shriek and howl...with laughter. Their delight eased the tension, and more than one passenger smiled and relaxed a bit to hear them (myself included). I was honestly rather proud of them--and I loved that they found such joy in that bumpy ride.
We crammed a lot into that vacation. The kids had never seen the ocean before (except N, as a toddler), and while the bigs were sufficiently impressed, J was intimidated and preferred to play in the sand, a safe distance away from the waves. There was snorkelling and diving and swimming, in pools and cenotes as well as the ocean. We took a day trip back into Cancun to swim with dolphins. We saw monkeys (one even bit N--but didn't break the skin) and lizards galore, and the kids had their photo taken with a toucan. Daddy and the bigs snorkelled and saw sea turtles, while I waited with J on a glass-bottomed boat and tried not to hurl. A good time was had by all.
Back at the homestead, we are spring cleaning and purging, and finishing up some housey projects. I am getting ready to dismantle my sewing room, weed through all my supplies, and reassemble the space with some new (to me) furniture. I am so excited! I may even paint in there and really prettify it. I wish I had more space than that teensy little room--I have several vintage machines that are just sort of shoved in there, and that is a crime. They should be displayed, admired (even if only by me), and ready to use at a moment's notice. The most beautiful of all my machines is an old Singer, ca 1929 (I think), in a bentwood case, given to me by my grandmother. What a wonderful gift! Just thinking about it makes me want to call her to thank her again. She was so excited to give it, knowing I would really value it. Suddenly I am wishing I could give her a great big hug.
Phew, I think I have almost run out of stuff to say. No, not really, I'm just too tired to continue. Happily, J's forehead is nice and cool (smooch), so maybe I can sleep better tonight.
He and I have a rotten cold/flu/walking death thing, though I have to say he's gotten the worst of it. Last night he was so hot it was worrisome--fevers are not something that typically shake me, but this one was persistent in the face of Tylenol and Advil, and that had me sleeping very, very lightly. The fever broke sometime during the night, but by morning his little hand, still wrapped around mine as he slept, was aflame again. Now he's got a regular old garden-variety fever, held easily at bay with one medication at a time. But he still gets to sleep with mama so she can check his temperature, by way of a kiss on the forehead, several times through the night.
The bigs are watching Star Wars with daddy right now, even though it's long past bedtime. The day was turning into a bit of a nightmare, so naps were dispensed all round and evening was salvaged. But a nap at 4 pm means bedtime is out the window. For them, anyway--I will be nodding off shortly.
Birthday Mania is about to set in. I was starting to wonder how we could possibly cram two birthday parties into the same month (with at least three other parties to attend), when I asked N if he would mind having a joint party with J. I thought he might feel ripped off, but au contraire, he lit up. Two cakes? Sold! Now I kind of wish I'd had all three boys in the same month, so I could just have one party.
Of course, if I were going to map out due dates, I don't know that I'd choose April. Sure, it sounds lovely, but the reality of April here is slush and mud and exasperation at the snail's pace of spring. We've had a spate of deceptively sunny days, bright and beckoning, but packing a bone-chilling breeze. Today was purely gorgeous though, warm sunbeams (the better for napping in) and mild air, all promises of beautiful days to come.
Not that I should complain, we were lucky enough recently to pack up and spend two weeks in lovely Mexico. We even managed to time it so we missed a record-breaking cold snap. Yay, us! I was terribly nervous about travelling with the kids, but they were marvelous. They loved every minute of the trip, even the turbulence we flew through as we made our descent into Cancun. The gut-dropping lurches and bumps made them shriek and howl...with laughter. Their delight eased the tension, and more than one passenger smiled and relaxed a bit to hear them (myself included). I was honestly rather proud of them--and I loved that they found such joy in that bumpy ride.
We crammed a lot into that vacation. The kids had never seen the ocean before (except N, as a toddler), and while the bigs were sufficiently impressed, J was intimidated and preferred to play in the sand, a safe distance away from the waves. There was snorkelling and diving and swimming, in pools and cenotes as well as the ocean. We took a day trip back into Cancun to swim with dolphins. We saw monkeys (one even bit N--but didn't break the skin) and lizards galore, and the kids had their photo taken with a toucan. Daddy and the bigs snorkelled and saw sea turtles, while I waited with J on a glass-bottomed boat and tried not to hurl. A good time was had by all.
Back at the homestead, we are spring cleaning and purging, and finishing up some housey projects. I am getting ready to dismantle my sewing room, weed through all my supplies, and reassemble the space with some new (to me) furniture. I am so excited! I may even paint in there and really prettify it. I wish I had more space than that teensy little room--I have several vintage machines that are just sort of shoved in there, and that is a crime. They should be displayed, admired (even if only by me), and ready to use at a moment's notice. The most beautiful of all my machines is an old Singer, ca 1929 (I think), in a bentwood case, given to me by my grandmother. What a wonderful gift! Just thinking about it makes me want to call her to thank her again. She was so excited to give it, knowing I would really value it. Suddenly I am wishing I could give her a great big hug.
Phew, I think I have almost run out of stuff to say. No, not really, I'm just too tired to continue. Happily, J's forehead is nice and cool (smooch), so maybe I can sleep better tonight.
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