Just learned that my sweet baboo won the high-stakes office poker tournament. Woohoo!
The kids had their Christmas concert today. It was so sweet--G and N looked spiff, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly, although G didn't even pretend to sing. He claimed he didn't know the songs, but he belted them out on the drive home. Ah well, he still looked cute.
Baby J got his first haircut today. His baby mullet was becoming a bit much for me. Still, I was wistful about snipping it--such a big step toward being a big kid. His brothers had their shags clipped off a few weeks ago while I was out of town (sneaky dad), and they look shockingly different. G in particular looks much more grown up. It's unsettling sometimes, to see them becoming actual people, rather than teeny little drooling blobs. I am so proud of these boys.
I did a little photo editing tonight, and created a passable holiday photo. I had to cut and paste two heads into another photo in order to get all three kids smiling in the same shot. Now two of them look slightly bobbleheaded, since the sizes don't quite match up. Close, but not quite. But I think it will go unnoticed, so I'm letting it ride.
I have been on a rollercoaster of med-lessness and new meds, and now I am about to discontinue the new meds. Everything I've read about them freaks me out more and more. They are terribly addictive, and their short half-life means if I am late with a dose or miss one, I will be plunged into withdrawal hell within a few hours of the usual dosage time. I missed a dose this week and spent a day spiraling rapidly from irritability to insane bitchiness to scary crying jag to suicidal thoughts. It was a freakishly rapid descent, and to a much greater depth of misery than I had been experiencing while I was med-free. I took my pale pink capsule that night at the regular time, and the next day was business as usual, except that I was a bit worn out.
Because J and G are still nursing, I am also concerned about the effects of this drug on them. I've been reassured that I am on a low dosage, the transfer is negligible, blah blah blah....but it's not something I am willing to risk. So now I am switching to half doses, and we'll see if I can keep my shit together.
I am so lucky to have a supportive partner. Especially one that occasionally brings home a poker pot. Momma needs a new pair o' shoes!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Brief Update
Since I am clearly so good at posting, averaging a post a month, I think I might sign up for that crazy NaBloPoMo again this year. Last year's posts are at ye olde blogge, which I will link to later when I'm not so effing tired. There's a link to it somewhere here, I think in the first post I put up here at the new digs.
NaBloPoMo gives me a good kick in the butt (and not the butt-stuff, either) about posting when I'm busy spazzing out about all the other things I put off until it's almost too late. For example, the flower girl dresses I'm sewing right now, which need to be in North Carolina in three weeks. I am getting close to panic mode, and just thinking about them makes my heart rate jump. I am no industrious ant, I am all lackadaisical grasshopper. Winter's almost here (for real, sniff), and I frittered away my summer, instead of slaving over satin in the sweatshop.
I'm not making much sense, am I? Did I mention I'm tired? Fighting a cold--thanks, kids. Little germ factories, them.
Right, off to bed with me, and hopefully tomorrow I will finish those blasted dresses.
NaBloPoMo gives me a good kick in the butt (and not the butt-stuff, either) about posting when I'm busy spazzing out about all the other things I put off until it's almost too late. For example, the flower girl dresses I'm sewing right now, which need to be in North Carolina in three weeks. I am getting close to panic mode, and just thinking about them makes my heart rate jump. I am no industrious ant, I am all lackadaisical grasshopper. Winter's almost here (for real, sniff), and I frittered away my summer, instead of slaving over satin in the sweatshop.
I'm not making much sense, am I? Did I mention I'm tired? Fighting a cold--thanks, kids. Little germ factories, them.
Right, off to bed with me, and hopefully tomorrow I will finish those blasted dresses.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
So Sue Me
Yeah, I am a slack bitch. Whatever.
Anyway, I was just reading this awesome post, and the awesome comments, and it inspired me to share my own childrens' awesomeness.
N and G like to be nude whenever possible. Being boys, they are obsessed with their penises. They are also within that magical age range where they are learning about bodies and the anatomical differences between men and women. So they are talking about their penises, and how poor mommy doesn't have one. Mommy has a 'gina. G tucks his little penis into his clamped thighs and says, "Is this a 'gina?" N snorts and replies, "No way." Then he adds with a small measure of disgust, "'Ginas are hairy."
This is a slight improvement from recent days when they referred to my genital region as a butt. As in, "Why do you pee from your butt?" One day, fresh out of the shower and getting dressed for the day, G wandered through the room of naked bodies telling us, "Ha ha, I see your penis. Ha ha, I see your butt." When he got to me, he glanced at my crotch and said, "Ha ha, I see your...butt-stuff."
Continuing in this vein, I remember the day I took N with me to a midwife appointment, as I always did. I was pregnant with G then, and N was 2. The appointment started with me collecting a urine sample to test for proteins and sugars. Usually N played in the waiting room while I used the nearby washroom, but this time he opted to come in with me. He watched intently as I filled my little plastic cup, and his eyes got big. I was formulating how I could explain that people only pee in cups under very special circumstances, when he interrupted my frantically whirring brain with an excited, "Mom! Juice! Butt!" He was clearly in awe of me. Why had I never told him I could make juice with my butt? Milk from one end and juice from the other--I was amazing. All this and I can sew too! Is there no end to my superpowers?
In other news, I took both my big boys to school today. It was a long day, as I lurked around the halls all day with the baby tied to me, spying on my kids as they met teachers and kids and toured the school. I think the day went relatively well, and I look forward to the day I can dump them without qualms (from them or me) and run gleefully away for a few hours with just one kid to wrangle. Yay school! Viva l'education!
Anyway, I was just reading this awesome post, and the awesome comments, and it inspired me to share my own childrens' awesomeness.
N and G like to be nude whenever possible. Being boys, they are obsessed with their penises. They are also within that magical age range where they are learning about bodies and the anatomical differences between men and women. So they are talking about their penises, and how poor mommy doesn't have one. Mommy has a 'gina. G tucks his little penis into his clamped thighs and says, "Is this a 'gina?" N snorts and replies, "No way." Then he adds with a small measure of disgust, "'Ginas are hairy."
This is a slight improvement from recent days when they referred to my genital region as a butt. As in, "Why do you pee from your butt?" One day, fresh out of the shower and getting dressed for the day, G wandered through the room of naked bodies telling us, "Ha ha, I see your penis. Ha ha, I see your butt." When he got to me, he glanced at my crotch and said, "Ha ha, I see your...butt-stuff."
Continuing in this vein, I remember the day I took N with me to a midwife appointment, as I always did. I was pregnant with G then, and N was 2. The appointment started with me collecting a urine sample to test for proteins and sugars. Usually N played in the waiting room while I used the nearby washroom, but this time he opted to come in with me. He watched intently as I filled my little plastic cup, and his eyes got big. I was formulating how I could explain that people only pee in cups under very special circumstances, when he interrupted my frantically whirring brain with an excited, "Mom! Juice! Butt!" He was clearly in awe of me. Why had I never told him I could make juice with my butt? Milk from one end and juice from the other--I was amazing. All this and I can sew too! Is there no end to my superpowers?
In other news, I took both my big boys to school today. It was a long day, as I lurked around the halls all day with the baby tied to me, spying on my kids as they met teachers and kids and toured the school. I think the day went relatively well, and I look forward to the day I can dump them without qualms (from them or me) and run gleefully away for a few hours with just one kid to wrangle. Yay school! Viva l'education!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Hot Cha
Ye gods, it's hot. Today the temperature hit 35 C (that's 95 F, in case you're a heathen--er, American). Southerners would be all, "pshaw" about that, but we are not southerners. Did I mention the humidity?
Not that I'm complaining. Since we only get a few precious months each year that are not filled with snow, ice and general misery, I actually embrace these sweaty, sweaty days. But the children! Oh! the children! They are sweaty and wakeful and grouchy and difficult to be around.
We went to the beach last week and I burned my upper back, in a couple of blotchy spots where I didn't smear the sunscreen. Today I was extra careful to cover those spots...and I completely neglected my lower back, which is now red and stinging. Le sigh. We are all still gritty in our creases from our beach excursion, which is probably contributing to the general air of crankiness.
Boy, I wish I had something more interesting to post about, but it's too hot. And the baby is climbing on the table again, meaning my time here is at an end.
Not that I'm complaining. Since we only get a few precious months each year that are not filled with snow, ice and general misery, I actually embrace these sweaty, sweaty days. But the children! Oh! the children! They are sweaty and wakeful and grouchy and difficult to be around.
We went to the beach last week and I burned my upper back, in a couple of blotchy spots where I didn't smear the sunscreen. Today I was extra careful to cover those spots...and I completely neglected my lower back, which is now red and stinging. Le sigh. We are all still gritty in our creases from our beach excursion, which is probably contributing to the general air of crankiness.
Boy, I wish I had something more interesting to post about, but it's too hot. And the baby is climbing on the table again, meaning my time here is at an end.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Milky Way
This weekend I went on a bar crawl. I know, what the heck?! I am old and dull, who invited me to a bar crawl? My internetty friend Michelle, that's who. She was in Calgary for the Stampede, so I drove down and met her for a night of tipsy carousing. It was a sweaty, sweaty time. The temperature was 34 in the shade, and the bars and busses were much hotter. I spent a great deal of time rehydrating the next day, to the tune of about 4 litres of fluid.
The waiter who served us brunch: And what will you have to drink?
Me: The family-size carafe of cranberry juice, please.
Waiter: How many glasses would you like with that?
Me: Just one, thanks.
Waiter: Seriously?
Me: Uh, yeah. Thanks.
And then I drained that sucker like I'd spent the night boozing and sweating profusely. Which I had.
One of the memorable moments of the night: after we went through a metal detector at the entrance to a bar (sounds like a nice, wholesome place, 'eh?), a young man told me he needed to check my big ol' mom bag. Guess what he found in it? That's right, a Ziploc freezer bag (large size) with a breast pump in it. The poor guy dropped it like it was on fire when I told him what it was. No honey, it's not drugs or a weapon, I use it to express milk. From my breasts. For two of my three children. I am old. I think I'll put away my ID now, since nobody is asking to see it. Thank you and good night.
Despite the slight mortification factor, I was very glad to have brought it, since we later needed to share a private moment in a dirty bathroom stall, my trusty Avent and me. Then there was another mortifying moment when I had to come out of the stall with a pump full of milk, dump it in the sink, rinse the pump and stuff it back in the Ziploc, all while the young, single, childless ladies watched. It occurred to me just now that I could have just emptied it into the toilet and put it away without rinsing it, all without leaving the stall. Ah well, perhaps it was educational for the young girlies. Maybe they were extra careful to take their birth control that night. Or maybe they were just extra careful to not use the same stall or sink I'd just sullied. It might be catching!
The waiter who served us brunch: And what will you have to drink?
Me: The family-size carafe of cranberry juice, please.
Waiter: How many glasses would you like with that?
Me: Just one, thanks.
Waiter: Seriously?
Me: Uh, yeah. Thanks.
And then I drained that sucker like I'd spent the night boozing and sweating profusely. Which I had.
One of the memorable moments of the night: after we went through a metal detector at the entrance to a bar (sounds like a nice, wholesome place, 'eh?), a young man told me he needed to check my big ol' mom bag. Guess what he found in it? That's right, a Ziploc freezer bag (large size) with a breast pump in it. The poor guy dropped it like it was on fire when I told him what it was. No honey, it's not drugs or a weapon, I use it to express milk. From my breasts. For two of my three children. I am old. I think I'll put away my ID now, since nobody is asking to see it. Thank you and good night.
Despite the slight mortification factor, I was very glad to have brought it, since we later needed to share a private moment in a dirty bathroom stall, my trusty Avent and me. Then there was another mortifying moment when I had to come out of the stall with a pump full of milk, dump it in the sink, rinse the pump and stuff it back in the Ziploc, all while the young, single, childless ladies watched. It occurred to me just now that I could have just emptied it into the toilet and put it away without rinsing it, all without leaving the stall. Ah well, perhaps it was educational for the young girlies. Maybe they were extra careful to take their birth control that night. Or maybe they were just extra careful to not use the same stall or sink I'd just sullied. It might be catching!
Friday, June 29, 2007
No More Teachers' Dirty Looks
We're leaving sometime in the next couple of days to spend a week or so at my parents' farm. I don't know exactly when we're leaving, I don't know exactly how long we'll be gone, and I don't know exactly how many children we're coming home with (N may stay on for a bit and be chauffered back by my mom). I don't know if we're all going together, or if the kids and I will go and Husband will follow us a day or two later. All this not-knowing is kind of bothersome.
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be
All I need to know
That was in case you needed a little Aaron Neville/Linda "Too Damn Many Consonants" Rondstadt clunking around in your head. You're welcome.
Today was N's last day of school. He made a couple of super sweet cards, full of hearts and general adorableness, and picked out a bouquet of flowers (totally his idea, not even a nudge from me) for each teacher. The shrivelled, blackened lump I call my heart got a little bit squishy as I watched him walk, rather solemnly, into the classroom with a big bunch of flowers in each arm. He certainly looked classier than his brothers--J, on my hip, had no shoes on, and G had a small wet spot on his crotch. Glorious.
Tonight N was so excited at the prospect of our impending trip that he couldn't wind down. Once the little guys were asleep, I laid next to him and played with his hair to help him settle. It took just a couple of minutes to relax him enough to fall asleep. He's so big, but he's so little. I love to watch him grow, but I love that he's still my boy. I hope he never grows too big to be my boy.
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be
All I need to know
That was in case you needed a little Aaron Neville/Linda "Too Damn Many Consonants" Rondstadt clunking around in your head. You're welcome.
Today was N's last day of school. He made a couple of super sweet cards, full of hearts and general adorableness, and picked out a bouquet of flowers (totally his idea, not even a nudge from me) for each teacher. The shrivelled, blackened lump I call my heart got a little bit squishy as I watched him walk, rather solemnly, into the classroom with a big bunch of flowers in each arm. He certainly looked classier than his brothers--J, on my hip, had no shoes on, and G had a small wet spot on his crotch. Glorious.
Tonight N was so excited at the prospect of our impending trip that he couldn't wind down. Once the little guys were asleep, I laid next to him and played with his hair to help him settle. It took just a couple of minutes to relax him enough to fall asleep. He's so big, but he's so little. I love to watch him grow, but I love that he's still my boy. I hope he never grows too big to be my boy.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Random
Poor J. While his older brothers play outside, soaking up the cancerous rays and eating freezer pops full of refined sugar and dye, he presses his face against the screen, shrieking and gnawing an ice cube through the mesh of his Safe Feeder. He never gets to have any fun.
Today N graduated from preschool/kindergarten. I'm not sure what to call it--he's in a class with kindergarten kids, but he's in preschool. He'll do kindergarten proper next year. Whatever it is, he got his little certificate today, with a wee photo stuck to it of him wearing a graduation gown and a happy happy grin. He was SO excited to sing in the concert they put on for the parents. I must say, he looked ever so handsome in his pinstriped vest and white button-down shirt. He felt handsome too, you could just tell.
After that we took in a rugby game--well, Husband watched, the kids and I just kind of wandered around until the sky opened up, then we scurried around looking for sweaters and shelter. Despite getting soaked, the kids had a blast.
Tomorrow is Father's Day. N has a card and a little cup of coloured bath salts to give him. He made them at school. I have nothing. I thought perhaps I'd give him the gift of hanging out with his kids all day while I disappear to the sewing room to finish a project. I'm thoughtful like that.
My ab muscles (they're in there somewhere) are sore, like I used them or something. That's silly--I don't use muscles. Except those required to lift my food to my face, and then to chew it. Those are my favourite muscles, and I think they're quite well-developed. I exercised (wink, nudge) by eating three Two-Bite Carrot Cakes, before reading the nutritional info to discover I had just consumed 290 calories. Those bastards!
And just like that, I'm done.
Today N graduated from preschool/kindergarten. I'm not sure what to call it--he's in a class with kindergarten kids, but he's in preschool. He'll do kindergarten proper next year. Whatever it is, he got his little certificate today, with a wee photo stuck to it of him wearing a graduation gown and a happy happy grin. He was SO excited to sing in the concert they put on for the parents. I must say, he looked ever so handsome in his pinstriped vest and white button-down shirt. He felt handsome too, you could just tell.
After that we took in a rugby game--well, Husband watched, the kids and I just kind of wandered around until the sky opened up, then we scurried around looking for sweaters and shelter. Despite getting soaked, the kids had a blast.
Tomorrow is Father's Day. N has a card and a little cup of coloured bath salts to give him. He made them at school. I have nothing. I thought perhaps I'd give him the gift of hanging out with his kids all day while I disappear to the sewing room to finish a project. I'm thoughtful like that.
My ab muscles (they're in there somewhere) are sore, like I used them or something. That's silly--I don't use muscles. Except those required to lift my food to my face, and then to chew it. Those are my favourite muscles, and I think they're quite well-developed. I exercised (wink, nudge) by eating three Two-Bite Carrot Cakes, before reading the nutritional info to discover I had just consumed 290 calories. Those bastards!
And just like that, I'm done.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Nan Machine Hath Cometh
My grandmother is amazing. She and my mom came into town a couple of days ago, and while Mom was attending her computer course downtown, Grandma kicked into action here at the homestead. My laundry: all clean and folded. My bathrooms: scrubbed. My floor: mopped. My kids: bathed in adulation. The woman is 75 and she kicks my ass.
In addition to her many other skills, Grandma doesn't make me feel totally inadequate while she's doing all my housework. I was shamed when she asked for a toilet brush, and bleated something about how I'd scrubbed one toilet, but hadn't had a chance to do the others yet. You know what she said? She said, "Don't you worry, you just keep doing a wonderful job raising those sweet little boys." I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I love that woman.
Rock on, Nan. You da bomb.
In addition to her many other skills, Grandma doesn't make me feel totally inadequate while she's doing all my housework. I was shamed when she asked for a toilet brush, and bleated something about how I'd scrubbed one toilet, but hadn't had a chance to do the others yet. You know what she said? She said, "Don't you worry, you just keep doing a wonderful job raising those sweet little boys." I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I love that woman.
Rock on, Nan. You da bomb.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Something Wicked This Way Comes
I am so ready for school to be out. Kindergarten is cramping my style. It's putting a serious dent in my social life. The weather is gorgeous, and despite my being completely mental, my friends keep calling and inviting me to join them in fun family outings. "Hmm," I say, "what time are you doing this fun family outing?" I already know that school will interfere. It always does. "Oh, sorry," I tell them, "N has school in the afternoon--we'd better not miss that." And the kids and I all serve our time while our friends, footloose and fancy-free, enjoy their fun family outing. Three more weeks, and then we kick kindergarten to the curb. Until fall, when we do it all over again, and try to add a 3-year-old preschool program to the mix. Can't hardly wait. I'm not sure if I'll feel unfettered, having just one kid to deal with for a while, or if I'll be so busy chauffering the big guys that I have no time for anything else.
I was starting to wonder why the heck I was breaking out, flipping out, and pigging out. Just now I felt a weird sensation, much like a menstrual cramp. Oh...right. My uterus is trying to fire itself up again. Lucky me. Even luckier are the people who have to live with me while I am completely mental. They've been getting complacent since I've only been half-assed mental lately...the return to completely mental can't be enjoyable for any of them.
Having suddenly realized why I've been such a shrew this week (fucking uterus), I have no qualms about feeding my salt and sugar cravings now. I just ate some leftover popcorn, and now I need to move on to ice cream. Music may soothe the savage beast, but the savage bitch needs some junk food. I may drink caramel sauce right out of the bottle. Hormones = Free Pass. Ho yeah, pass the spoon!
I was starting to wonder why the heck I was breaking out, flipping out, and pigging out. Just now I felt a weird sensation, much like a menstrual cramp. Oh...right. My uterus is trying to fire itself up again. Lucky me. Even luckier are the people who have to live with me while I am completely mental. They've been getting complacent since I've only been half-assed mental lately...the return to completely mental can't be enjoyable for any of them.
Having suddenly realized why I've been such a shrew this week (fucking uterus), I have no qualms about feeding my salt and sugar cravings now. I just ate some leftover popcorn, and now I need to move on to ice cream. Music may soothe the savage beast, but the savage bitch needs some junk food. I may drink caramel sauce right out of the bottle. Hormones = Free Pass. Ho yeah, pass the spoon!
Friday, May 25, 2007
I Cede
I gave up on ye olde blogge. Blogger randomly disallowed me to log in and post to it, then randomly allowed me to post twice, then shut me out again. Hell with it, I'll just start again. Stoopid Blogger.
Tonight I had grandiose plans to hole up in the basement and organize my craft room. My long hunt for thrift-store shelves paid off, and I have two bookcases that are waiting to be filled with a roomful of fabrics/sewing machines/threads/etc. I can't wait! Instead, I spent the night attached to a baby who thought he should stay awake just a little longer. Now I'm drunk on a pint o' wine and the task of taking on an entire room of extreme clutter this close to midnight is just a little too daunting.
My baby brother popped in last week and hung out for a while; he left today. It was so lovely to have him here, firstly because I hardly see the kid and it was nice to catch up, and secondly because he's an excellent nanny-man. My kids love him, and he's so great with them. Since Husband is insanely busy at work, it was especially awesome to have an extra body around. I got to pick up N from school without waking the sleeping kiddos! When Baby J was a heinously fussy dude ALL DAMN DAY, I prepared our dinner while the kids played with Uncle L! Seriously, he is a most excellent houseguest. Come back anytime, L!
We live in suburbia. I like our house. Our yard is small, but okay. The price was right, and THANK GOD we bought when we did--the market immediately went crazy. But I hate the lack of mature trees. I hate the construction filth. I hate the way our neighbourhood is so twisty-turny and anti-grid. And I hate that everyone we know lives so far away...until tomorrow. A friend is moving into our neighbourhood! As of tomorrow, we will have friends within walking distance. This bodes well for my summer. I am already pencilling playdates and walks to the NEW! local Starbucks into my calendar. I hope they have a lot of free time.
I would really love to drink more wine, but tomorrow morning we have a date with a mob of 5 year olds. N's school is having a sports day/BBQ thing, from 10-2. It would probably not go over well if both parents showed up with a severe hangover. Husband is currently drinking with my other, local brother, and I think at least one of us should be free of the stale boozy smell and bloodshot eyes for the school function. This year, anyway. Next year, we'll see.
And now, to bed--for the children. Children, you totally owe me.
Tonight I had grandiose plans to hole up in the basement and organize my craft room. My long hunt for thrift-store shelves paid off, and I have two bookcases that are waiting to be filled with a roomful of fabrics/sewing machines/threads/etc. I can't wait! Instead, I spent the night attached to a baby who thought he should stay awake just a little longer. Now I'm drunk on a pint o' wine and the task of taking on an entire room of extreme clutter this close to midnight is just a little too daunting.
My baby brother popped in last week and hung out for a while; he left today. It was so lovely to have him here, firstly because I hardly see the kid and it was nice to catch up, and secondly because he's an excellent nanny-man. My kids love him, and he's so great with them. Since Husband is insanely busy at work, it was especially awesome to have an extra body around. I got to pick up N from school without waking the sleeping kiddos! When Baby J was a heinously fussy dude ALL DAMN DAY, I prepared our dinner while the kids played with Uncle L! Seriously, he is a most excellent houseguest. Come back anytime, L!
We live in suburbia. I like our house. Our yard is small, but okay. The price was right, and THANK GOD we bought when we did--the market immediately went crazy. But I hate the lack of mature trees. I hate the construction filth. I hate the way our neighbourhood is so twisty-turny and anti-grid. And I hate that everyone we know lives so far away...until tomorrow. A friend is moving into our neighbourhood! As of tomorrow, we will have friends within walking distance. This bodes well for my summer. I am already pencilling playdates and walks to the NEW! local Starbucks into my calendar. I hope they have a lot of free time.
I would really love to drink more wine, but tomorrow morning we have a date with a mob of 5 year olds. N's school is having a sports day/BBQ thing, from 10-2. It would probably not go over well if both parents showed up with a severe hangover. Husband is currently drinking with my other, local brother, and I think at least one of us should be free of the stale boozy smell and bloodshot eyes for the school function. This year, anyway. Next year, we'll see.
And now, to bed--for the children. Children, you totally owe me.
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