AverageMom

Why?

2012-01-17T11:03:00.000-08:00

At 4:00 am Hubby got up to pee. Not a problem, except the animals assumed it was MORNING! TIME TO RISE AND SHINE!! and proceeded to make sure I was awake. I finally gave in just before 5 and rolled out of bed.
I love my pets, honestly. So I hugged them, and kissed them, gave them breakfast, sent the bouncy dog out to pee, and started the coffee.
Around 5:30 I realized I hadn't seen the dog in awhile. Scipio the cat was curled up on a heating vent, but Lucy the dog was nowhere to be seen.
I went downstairs looking for her, and found that evil creature all curled up UNDER A BLANKET on the couch. Sound asleep. Having succeeded in getting me out of bed, she felt her job was done and she was resting up for the busy day of sleeping ahead.

Moving on.

2012-01-01T18:27:00.000-08:00

I wanted to be all profound and stuff, but my brain is not co-operating. Good news! Fawn, over at Fawnahareo's Place, gave me a great idea. By that I mean I'm totally copying her "Year in Review" post. Thanks, Fawn!!

The first sentence of the first post from each month:

January: Hmmmm....I was actually gone from blogging until May. So let's start there!
May: Hmmm....lately I've found myself composing blog entries in my head. Perhaps it's time to come back.
June: I went to a retirement party for a fellow teacher last night, and it was great.
July: It is summer vacation, and I would like to be sleeping.
August: We went camping last week, and it was a blast.
September: Girl Terror and I were looking for something to watch on TV the other evening.
October: Communicating with a seven year old boy.
November: You know how just don't do something, thinking you will do it later?
December: Apparently there is a very good reason why I should NOT be allowed to interact with the general public.

You know, Fawn's list was far more interesting. I obviously need to work on my opening lines, and maybe it's time to find INTERESTING things to write about!

The Boy Terror makes me nervous.

2011-12-22T15:45:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that Boy Terror is a bit.....odd. Different. Unique! That's a better word. He's unique. This is the list I found yesterday on my grocery list pad (spelling is NOT his specialty):

full grocery bags 8
swich'es 29
pet's 82
dog toy's 9
stocking's 15
door's 16
dish'es 231
462

After I stopped twitching (I'm an English teacher by training. The misuse of the apostrophe killed several of my brain cells) I asked a few clarifying questions.
Apparently, we do have 29 light switches in the house. The 82 pets boggled me, until he reminded me about the Tryops. I guess there are 80??? I asked him if he really did count all the dishes, but he just estimated. And then, assuming there were plenty of other things in the house, he doubled his biggest number and declared "There are 462 things in this house!"

Is it time to call a professional yet????

Dave

2011-12-08T11:52:00.000-08:00

On November 26th, a very dear friend of ours passed away. Dave and my husband were friends for 25 years. Dave was the best man in our wedding, and we were honored to be the attendants at his. You never expect to lose a friend this early in life. I feel ripped off, and cheated. I want just one more day to tell him how much he meant to me, and how sad life will be without his smile. Even when we fought, when we tormented each other, and when I said "I'm not speaking to you anymore!" I always knew Dave would be there for me.
Dave wasn't the sort to want a funeral service of any kind, so last night his friends and family gathered to laugh, cry, and tell stories. We raised toasts of tequlia shots to Dave, and took comfort in each other.
There is no way to describe my sadness. I know Dave would be completely pissed off at me for crying, so I'll try to remember his big laugh, contagious smile, and crazy sense of humor.

Going postal

2011-12-02T11:19:00.000-08:00

Apparently there is a very good reason why I should NOT be allowed to interact with the general public. I have lost my "niceness". In my defense, it's been a horrible week. I'll talk about that another day...

SO. I went to the post office last night to pick up a parcel. (The stupid parcel was not even for ME. Ugh.) There were kazillion people in line, since it's December now, and every single person in the city MUST mail tacky crap to every relative they've ever met. No problem. I knew there would be a line. I was patient. I waited, and smiled, and did not punch the man behind me who had no sense of personal space. I also did not have a completely innappropriate conversation on my cell phone, like that other woman. Seriously, was there no other moment in her day when she could have told "Shannon" all about her beer diarrhea??? ANYWAY.....
When I got to the front of the line, I smiled like a decent human being, and said to the postal clerk "Hi! How are you? I'm just here to pick up a parcel." She said "Other than being overworked and underpaid, I'm FINE."
Hmmmm. Not quite what I was expecting. I didn't have an answer ready for that. So I made the mistake of just saying whatever the hell popped into my mind. That is NEVER a good idea. My mind needs a heavy duty filter between my thoughts and my mouth.
"I guess, in this economy, the best you can do is just be grateful you HAVE a job..."

Not the thing to say if you want smiles with your service. Not at all.

Awkward....

2011-11-22T10:57:00.000-08:00

You know how you don't do something, thinking you will just do it later? And then it's been a day, and you're still procrastinating, but it's not a big deal because tomorrow is a fresh day and you're sure to get everything done? And then, suddenly, it's been over a MONTH, and you still are ignoring that thing???? Yeah. That's what happened to my blog. Once in awhile I'd think of a good blog entry, but it wasn't "worthy" of being the One To Revive The Blog. I still haven't found that entry, so I will be lazy and just give you a photo update of things in the Average household.

Lucy got to meet and play with her siblings. In an odd twist of fate, two of her litter mates live about 6 houses away. There is only one thing more fun than a whippet....THREE WHIPPETS!!

That is Scout, Ranger, and Lucy. Taking a picture of all three was nearly impossible, but with the help of some treats, Bonita (other whippet mom) managed to get one quick shot.

We had Halloween, of course. I made a cake for the staff:

And took the Terrors out for treats:

Such cuties!
Hubby was gone on a trip for a week, so I naturally had a party. The ladies came over in their pj's, we ate, drank, and watched "Bridesmaid". If you haven't seen the movie, I highly recommend it. Go pee first, though. Otherwise there might be a laugh/pee accident. It's that funny. There are no pictures of the party. Well, there are....but I don't want my friends to come stab me to death!
Girl Terror decided to get her hair cut from this:

To this:

I didn't cry, not even a little.

I turned 41. I wasn't really in party mode, so it was a quiet birthday. Still nice.

Whew! We've been busy! So....what did I miss around here? What's new? Anything going on in your life??

My conversations with Me.

2011-10-21T10:01:00.000-07:00

I talk to myself. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I have A LOT of words to get out. I talk all day to the students, I chatter mindlessly at Hubby, and I hold wonderful conversations with Lucy The Dog. Sometimes I even talk in my sleep. But lately, I've found myself muttering under my breath to myself quite a bit. I started listening (ha!) and here are my top conversations with Me.

"WHY can't anyone else figure out how to put toilet paper on the roll?? It's not that hard, I swear."
"If I put it down here, and now it's not here, and it's only been 3 seconds, what the hell happened?"
"Gotta remember the laundry. Gotta remember the laundry. Gotta remember the laundry."
"Oh for @($# sake. How hard is it to just open the dishwasher?"
"For the love of all that is holy, I am going to lose my mind if I have to listen to this any longer."
"Listen, idiot, the road is not that tricky. Either drive or get out of the way."
"TURN OFF YOUR SIGNAL LIGHT!!!!! There are no turns for the next 6 kms!!"
"So tired. SOoooooo tired. So tired......"

Sometimes I put these things to music, and end up singing to the dog. Apparently my subconscious feels that if the tune is cheerful, it's okay to call her a stupid idiot with a bony butt.

So tell me. Do you talk to yourself? What's your favorite topic to mutter?

Communicating with a seven year old boy.

2011-10-15T11:50:00.000-07:00

Scene: Last night, while watching TV. Yes, I know.....If I want answers I should really take him to an empty room, sit him in a metal chair, and shine the lone lightbulb in his eyes.

Note: Many of my lines were repeated, while waiting for a response.

Me: So, did you give your teacher your pizza money today?

Boy Terror: (silence)

Me: Hey!!! Did you give your teacher your pizza money today?

BT: Hmmmm? What money?

Me: The money that I put in the envelope, and put in your backpack.

BT: Oh that. I remember that. I put it in my backpack.

Me: And then, when you got to school, did you give it to your teacher?

BT: Yep.

Me: Did she say anything?

BT: Nope. She wasn't there.

Me: She wasn't there? Then how did you give her the money??

BT: I gave it to the substitute.

Me: Oh. And did the substitute put it on the teacher's desk?

BT: She didn't know what to do with it.

Me: Seriously?? So what did she do with it?

BT: She put it back on my desk.

Me: YOUR desk? She put the money back on your desk?

BT: Yep.

Me: IS IT STILL THERE??

BT: Nope.

Me: Where is it?!!

BT: She put it on my desk.

Me: Got that. What happened after that?

BT: She didn't know what to do with it.

Me: I heard. Is it still on your desk?

BT: I don't think so.

Me: Was it on your desk at the end of the day??

BT: Yep.

Me: Was it on your desk when you left to come home?

BT: Nope.

Me: Do you know where it is right now????

BT: In my backpack.

Me: The envelope is still in your backpack?!

BT: I tried giving it to the teacher.

Me: So, right now, if I go upstairs, I will find the money IN YOUR BACKPACK???

BT: I think so.

This is why I'm grey. And also why he might not get pizza.

Don't say that, say this!

2011-09-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

Things to NOT teach your child to say. Totally taken from The Bloggess who is amazing and funny and all that good stuff.

1. It's not my fauuuult....(must be whined).
As a teacher, this drives me mental. I end up with 14 year olds, whining about the unfairness of life. It's not their fault they have no pencil. Blame their mother for not reminding them to wake up on time. The printer is broken, again, and they forgot how to email assignments. It's not their fault they didn't study, I forgot to remind them.

2. It's not fair.
Also best if whined. No, small people, life is NOT fair. Go figure. I realize that a lot of parents weigh, measure, and tweak all gifts until they are sure each child is getting the exact same amount. This leads to children who are always looking around, making sure nobody got a single candy more than them. Best Friend got an 83%, and you only got 82.5%. Other classes are outside working, and I'm making you sit inside and take notes. Sometimes, things happen that aren't fair. Deal with it.

3. But I neeeeeed it.
Nope. You don't. Unless we are talking about water, food, clothing and shelter, you don't need it. Oh, and hugs. You do need hugs. But a sparkly purple Hannah Montana pair of shoelaces, selling for $15? You don't NEED those.

4. I'm bored.
Remember when we were kids, and if we even looked bored, we got handed the lawn mower? Yeah. If your child has enough crap to open a Toys R Us in his room, and he still says he's bored, perhaps it's time to teach him to be self motivated. To LOOK at the world around him. To stop depending on everyone to entertain him.

You know what? This is depressing. Let's talk about things you SHOULD teach your child to say.

1. Thank you.
That's it. A simple thanks. Maybe even with a smile!

2. Please.
It's amazing how many kids get to high school without learning this word. And when I insist on hearing it before requests, they roll their eyes at me.

3. My parents won't let me.
This is a tricky one. Yes, I think kids should take responsibility for their own actions, but sometimes they just need to be able to cast the blame on someone else. It's okay if her friends don't like you....you're the parent. And your child is glad that you have made some choices for her.

4. I disagree.
Said politely, this goes a long way. It's far better than the alternatives: "That's so gay" or "You're stupid" or any other number of comments. Let your child know it's okay to disagree, if you can do it respectfully.

That's all my rambling for today. Leave a comment, telling me what things YOU think kids should or should not learn to say!

I am bored. And I have no ideas.

2011-09-18T14:19:00.000-07:00

Update: I have no idea why everything is highlighted in white. Perhaps the blog gods are trying to tell me this post sucks. Who knows.

Good morning, blog world! I seem to have run out of ideas for writing, so I cheated and copied something from the internets. I've included the link if you want to see more.
Go ahead and copy and paste into your own blog, but be sure to leave me a comment so I come read your answers!

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness? A snuggly blanket, my babies, and a good book.
2. What is your greatest fear? Losing my children.
3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Laziness
4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?Fakeness
5. Which living person do you most admire?This is a tough one...I'm going to say Beth, my mom.
6. What is your greatest extravagance?I don't "do" extravagance. Family vacations, I guess
7. What is your current state of mind?I already told you....I'm suffering writer's block!
8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?Patience.
9. On what occasion do you lie?I can't tell you that!! Then you'll know when I'm lying to you!
10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?My overall size. Width. Balloonyness of a variety of areas.
11. Which living person do you most despise?Does it have to be someone I know? Again, I really don't want to tell you this. Perhaps this is where the lying comes in....
12. What is the quality you most like in a man?Sense of humor.
13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?Ability to have fun
14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?Apparently I say "Seriously? SERIOUSLY??!!"
15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?My children, closely followed by my husband.
16. When and where were you happiest?Good grief, these are tough questions. I guess the day my first child was born.
17. Which talent would you most like to have?Athleticism. That would help take care of the balloonyness.
18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?I'm sensing a theme here....laziness? To help with the balloons???
19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?Surviving.
20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?A navy blue crayon. Or perhaps a cat.
21. Where would you most like to live?On the beach!
22. What is your most treasured possession?My Raggedy Ann doll.
23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?A man with a cold.
24. What is your favorite occupation?Teaching, of course! Also, being Mummy.
25. What is your most marked characteristic?My always yapping mouth.
26. What do you most value in your friends?Loyalty, support.
27. Who are your favorite writers?Alice Munroe, Judy Blume, Jodi Piccoult, John Grisham, Shirley Jackson, the list is endless.
28. Who is your hero of fiction?Anne of Green Gables
29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?I have honestly never thought about this. I'll get back to you.
30. Who are your heroes in real life?My mother, Obama.
31. What are your favorite names?Daisy. I really, really wanted to name our daughter Daisy. But Hubby refused to call her by a "cow" name.
32. What is it that you most dislike?Right now, I'm developing a hatred for stupid questions.
33. What is your greatest regret?Not speaking up.
34. How would you like to die?Quickly, quietly, in my sleep.
35. What is your motto?Just do it.

Genes from the other parent

2011-09-08T21:11:00.001-07:00

Girl Terror and I were looking for something to watch on TV the other evening. We had settled in to "Hope for Wildlife", and were in full snuggle mode when she looked up and grinned.

"Mummy, you know, if we want, we can watch THE BIG BANG!!! THE BEGINNING OF THE UNIVERSE!!" Since I'm used to her now, I just waited for the rest.

"If we go to a channel we don't get, 1% of the static we see there is really left-over radiation from when the universe began!! Isn't that COOL???"

I blame her father. And don't feel bad, I had to google it too, to see if she knew what she was talking about.

Medicine woes

2011-08-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

Over the summer I (with my doctor's advice and support, of course!) decided to lower my antidepressant dose. We had plenty of reasons to think this was a good idea. I STILL think it was a good idea. But the reality is not so great. I am not feeling perky. I cried for hours yesterday, for no apparent reason. I've been foul, cranky, and miserable. I'm really hoping that my sunlamp will help with all of this. Now that it's fall, I'm back to sitting in front of the light, soaking in the happy thoughts every morning.
If my current mood wasn't enough, I also just found out that my pills have been found to cause possibly fatal heart arrhythmia. THAT'S not good! So I'll probably be changing types. Arghhh!!! Any advice? Things to be wary of? Certain meds that have worked well for you? Personally, I'm looking for a magic pill that will make my mood soar, my fat melt away, and my body morph into a Victoria Secret's dream. Also, I'd like to be paid $1000 every day that I take the pill. Any ideas?!

The dog

2011-08-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

I love her. I really, really do. But......
She ate my glasses. Scratched one lens to bits, popped the other one out of the frame, and ATE half of it. I happen to LIKE my glasses, since they are necessary for seeing, and other such things.
She destroyed the lawn mower. She chewed through an electrical cord on it, and now I'd only ask Hubby to mow the lawn if he was really getting on my nerves and deserved electrocution.
She removed the bottom of a dining room chair. Chewed the foamy part right out, and spread it all over the house. And when we duct taped it back together, and covered it with Tabasco sauce, she tasted it and smeared bright orange Tabasco all over the carpet.
The bathroom garbage is like her own personal vending machine. Toilet paper rolls! Used q-tips! YUMM!!!
She thinks the cat is her own personal pet, given to her to terrorize. Poor Scipio.

Fortunately, there is also a lot of love there.
I wear expensive bras. Gravity defying, reinforced with NASA type material, lined with pure gold expensive bras. Lucy thinks they are the best thing for flinging around the house, cups flapping around her ears, underwires stabbing out through the teeth holes.

I love her. I do, I do. But my god, that dog is pushing the limits of my patience.

camping, the extended version

2011-08-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

So, I attempted camping again. Maybe I'm wrong, but I suspect the Camping Gods are trying to send me a message.
My good friend Cheri decided to host a girl's night at our favourite campground, in her fifth wheel. We call it the Taj Mahal. True camping happens in a tent, with an outhouse if you're lucky. The Taj has two bathrooms, a big TV, full kitchen, two bedrooms....it's the way to camp, trust me.
Sara and I drove out to meet up with Cheri on Thursday night. It was a great drive, in Sara's happy new car. The rain had started, but we figured a little rain wouldn't hurt us! We are tough chicks! (Yes, we were in a cute little white car, with a teeny little white doggie, headed to the Taj Mahal of camping...but tough!!)
Everything went well until we were on the long dirt road to the campground. The rain had turned it into a long mud road. The little car slid and slipped, and it felt a lot like riding a slip 'n slide. Puppy was whining. We should have listened to her.
We made it to the campsite, and all was well. Cheri's idea of camping food is amazing....she made us quinoa, and rouladen filled with asparagus. Yummy!! For dessert, strawberries and mascarpone on shortbread. Double yummy!
After a movie and some wine, we all settled in for a good sleep, listening to the rain on the roof. Ahhhh.....great life!
The next morning, Sara answered a knock at the door (in her cupcake jammies!!!) to bad news. The road had been washed out. As in, we were trapped in the campground. Possibly for a week or more. With no cell phone service, one change of clothes, a deck of cards, and enough food and wine to keep us happy for a month.
Sara and Cheri hiked the 6 km to see the damage, and came back shaken. The road was gone for approximately 300 m. Where there should have been gravel and road was now a fast moving creek. The banks were continually caving in.
Nothing kills a camping mood faster than finding out you CAN'T leave. All three of us became very twitchy, very fast. Fortunately, we are great friends, so there was no bloodshed. And did I mention the wine?!
The second night, we played cards and talked the way only women do. Some topics we covered:
-best sweat pants
-pubic trimming trends
-honesty in friendship
-relationships -the good, the bad, the ugly
-favourite hummus flavours
-karma

We also got it into our heads that we NEEDED to go check on the road situation, and Cheri seemed certain that perhaps, just maybe, her Beloved would be waiting on the other side of the Great Divide, ready to rescue us. Sara (our sober friend!) gamely drove us out through the mud and rain to see what progress had been made on repairing the road.

Nothing.
No progress.
No road crews.
No knight in shining armour on a white horse.

Cheri took this all very personally. She raged at the government, the road crews, the highway department, and the campground caretaker. She was truly a woman to be reckoned with. Sara, for some insane reason, tried to explain rationally why we might not see repair crews out at 10 pm in the rain. She pointed out that the knight in shining armour would have no way of knowing we expected him at that precise moment. She pointed out the mud, the rain, the deteriorating weather. Nothing could sway Cheri from her belief that the world was conspiring against her.
We went back to the Taj and crawled into bed, convinced that we were now camping for the long term.
The next morning, our luck changed. Yay! Other campers had gone to check on things, and the road! It was being built! Highway workers were saying "Everyone should be out THIS AFTERNOON!!" Woo hoo!!!!
We packed everything up, super fast, and got totally excited and worked up to leave....and then we sat. And sat. And sat, until 4 pm, when we finally got into the little white car and headed home. The highway workers followed us out in their truck, which seemed ridiculous until we saw the road....the temporary road was fabulous (apparently it would last until the next rainfall, but no later) but the muddy section was beyond belief. There was a grader pushing it all off to one side, but for most of the road we were just sliding around, hoping to stay out of the ditch. The little car has little tires (imagine!) and the mud was scraping the bottom of the car. Sara was a very brave driver, and we just pretended we were in some sort of mud bog competition. When we finally made the highway, Sara wanted to kiss the ground, but we were too tired.
I like camping, I really do. But I think I'm done for this summer.

Camping!

2011-08-02T10:15:00.000-07:00

We went camping last week, and it was a blast. Well, most of it. There were a few moments....
Our friends Ken and Wendy found a perfect spot on the edge of a lake. Not in a campground, so there were no other campers around. Sheltered, pretty, and basically just enough room for a few families. Them, us, and Wendy's parents. Perfect! We set up our tent and proceeded to relax. The kids were in the lake, out of the lake, in the lake. The adults were enjoying some truly spectacular food and company. Even hearing a bear or two didn't dim our enthusiasm. I happen to LOVE camping...the fire, the visiting, the chilly noses in the morning...it's all good.
Unfortunately, this camping trip did not go so well. I woke up around midnight the first night to puke. And I continued to do so every few hours until morning. Puking at home is not fun. Puking while camping is a completely different level of Not Fun. Rolling off the air mattress, finding shoes, stumbling out of the tent and into the bushes....all with Lucy the Dog right on my heels.
The next morning we decided that it might be best if I went home. Hubby and the Terrors would continue the fun with our friends, and I would take Lucy and slink home to bed. Sad, but probably the best idea.
Hubby and Ken emptied the car for me, and slammed the trunk shut...on the keys. Specifically, on the button on the key that locks the car. Locking the car. With the keys safely inside.
Hmmmmm.....
Keys. In the car. Sick wife, outside the car.
Ken was very enthusiastic about bouncing on the back of the car, making the key click and the car honk (proving that yes, indeed, it was locked!).
How do these things happen???? And yes, if you know me in real life, I realize that they DON'T happen to just anyone, and that I have a special skill for the unlucky...
Luckily, Wendy's dad was going back into town for some propane, and offered to take me along. Great! But....the keys. They are in the car. The HOUSE KEY is in the car.
Since we regularly do stupid things, a number of our friends have house keys. I took Hubby's phone, and started calling around as soon as we got within cell range.
I'm very lucky Wendy's dad was willing to drive all over the place with a sick lady. He took me home, we picked up spare car keys, and back out to the lake I went.
Lucy and I finally made it home by 3:30. It was a long day of NOT camping, but at least we made some memories.

My girl is growing up!

2011-07-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

Back when Girl Terror first asked about getting her ears pierced, we said "not now" and "when you are older" and her father said "when you are 20 years old". She wasn't really bothered, since her best friend told her it HURT! and she CRIED!!
I'm not sure what changed, but a few weeks ago, she declared herself ready for pierced ears. Off we went, to let strangers stab holes in my baby girl. She was very brave. The technicians were smart, and did both ears at the same time. Aren't those cute little sparkly daisies?!
I think this feels like a bigger deal to me due to my own childhood. We weren't allowed to wear jewelry. My older sister pierced her ears in high school, and when my father saw, he made her take the studs out immediately so her ears grew over. She was grounded for the rest of the summer.
My parents have never seen me wearing jewelry. I have two earrings in each ear. I actually used to make jewelry. I wear nail polish, makeup, and sparkles. I will look gooood when I get to hell.

Warning, warning

2011-07-24T14:10:00.001-07:00

For those of you who know me in real life....

I'm changing the dose of my meds. Prepare for twitchy/cranky/quiet/bitchy time for a few weeks. Sorry in advance. Send my husband care packages, won't you? He has to live with me.

Best Birth Control/ Diet Incentive

2011-07-22T09:37:00.000-07:00

If you don't follow Cake Wrecks, you are seriously missing out. However, today's post is one of the most disturbing set of pictures I've ever seen. Are you considering having more babies? Don't go look. Are you too skinny already? I hate you, and don't look at the cakes. But if you are needing some way to convince yourself to NOT give birth, or to stop eating cake, hey! I've got the blog post for you!!! Go! Come back, and we'll discuss the need for laws regarding cake!!

MOST DISTURBING SHOWER CAKES EVER!!!

Sleep. I like it.

2011-07-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

It is summer vacation, and I would like to be sleeping. Seems reasonable, right?!
While we were gone on vacation, Lucy the Dog made life very miserable for our friend/housesitter. She slept the first night, to lull him into thinking everything would be juuuust fine. That was the end of sleep for him. She whined and cried and drove him batty for the next two weeks. Poor guy slept on the couch to avoid her. So when we got home, I was prepared to suffer through retraining Lucy to sleep in her kennel quietly. But she fooled us! She goes to bed happily every night, and doesn't make a sound until she hears the kids get up around 7! Woo hoo! Sleep, here I come!!

Not so fast....Scipio the Cat, who has always been the most docile, peaceful, quiet kitty, is killing the sleep. He goes outside at night, which is fine, but instead of coming home in the morning, when he sees Lucy out for a morning walk, he is coming home at 4:30. Or 5:00, if he's having fun out there. He stands under our window, and howls at the backdoor. Howls and wails like only an anguished cat on a mission can do. The first night, the kids got up and let him in. Last night, I got up and opened the door to a wet, loud kitty. It would be fine if he just came in and went to curl up on his kitty house. But no. He wants to come snuggle in bed with me, and show off to Lucy that "Ha! Look at me, all up on the bed! With the people! While you, poor loser, are in your kennel!" Naturally, Lucy has things to say about this state. Things like "Nobody loooooves me!!! Poooooor meeee!" etc.
This morning, I thought it might be all okay. Scipio was in, and curled up on the bed. Lucy had muttered about the unfairness, but had tucked her nose back into her bed, convinced that I really wasn't getting up. Sigh. Maybe, just maybe, sleep would return.
No. No sleep. At that moment, Hubby decided to sing. Yes, sing. Other people talk in their sleep. My husband sings. Well, sometimes he giggles, but this morning it was music time. Happy, happy tune.
Know what makes a dog think it's time to wake up? Hmmmm??? SINGING.
All this to say, I miss sleep.

2011-07-11T18:07:00.000-07:00

We are back!! The trip was great. Not as great as it should have been, but still a success. We had to change our plans slightly due to washed out roads, and eight days is ~~possibly~~ ~~most probably~~ definitely too long to spend with my mother-in-law. The weather was not always cooperative, but we managed to get outside every day to hike or explore the beaches. If you haven't been to Haida Gwaii, I can't recommend it enough! It is absolutely gorgeous! Here, I took some pictures:

You should know that in order to get that second shot, I had to haul my ass up a mountain. Well, a really big hill. With a fantastic boardwalk pathway. But still!! It was tough! The Terrors wanted to do it "again, again!" and asked every day if we could hike Tow Hill again, but I said no. I didn't want them to get too tired.

The ferry ride was fine on the way over, even though we didn't see any whales or dolphins. The trip back, however, was the stuff of nightmares. I wasn't too bothered, since I get seasick every time I step on a boat, but the rest of my family was not prepared to turn themselves inside out for seven hours. Oh, except Boy Terror. He was bored. NOT sick. Bored. Hubby, Girl Terror and I were in no shape to entertain him. The crew was very clear....sit down, and hold on. He ended up watching two movies, and trying to ignore the puking around him.

My mother-in-law was very happy to see us. She's alone now, and I think she's very lonely. We played games in the evenings, we hung around in the mornings, and in the afternoons we went exploring and she waited patiently for us to come home. Still, though, if you know her..... Eight days is a loooong time. Probably too long for ANY mother-in-law visit, never mind the insane ones.
Lucy the Dog was thrilled to have us home. She had a very nice friend of the family staying here with her and Scipio the Cat, but she wasn't very welcoming. She apparently whined and howled all through the night. EVERY NIGHT. The good news is, we still have a friend. Bad news, we need to find another willing housesitter.
How's your summer going? Any great plans? Or are you going to be like me, and attempt to be One With the Beach for the next month?

On the road again!

2011-06-23T06:05:00.000-07:00

We are headed down south for a few weeks, leaving tomorrow. Woo hoo!! I love road trips. Love them. The Terror's are excellent travellers, the scenery is gorgeous and visiting family is a blast.
The Terrors have always been great in the car. Naturally, there have been a few times when things went very, very badly, but in general they keep themselves entertained with books and toys, and are pleasant company. On this particular trip we will be going down a roller coaster road, so Girl Terror is already worried about the puking.....but I've stocked up on Gravol.
I'm sure we will see plenty of wildlife. I'm always hoping for bears, but bison, mountain sheep and various smaller creatures are common. On the ferry we have seen whales and dolphins in the past, hopefully this trip will bring them out again!
We plan to see my MIL, some aunts, uncles and cousins along the way. Aways fun, always full of love and laughter. But like all good trips, I'm sure we will be ready and anxious to come home. Once we come back, summer vacation will be in our blood, and the beach will be calling my name.

NOTE: If you are one of those creepy internet stalker types, know this: There will be a large, hairy, scary Viking-type man staying in my house while I'm gone. His only tasks are to love Lucy the Dog, feed Scipio the Cat, and mangle idiots like you. So stay away!

Girl Terror turns 9.

2011-06-19T16:57:00.000-07:00

Girl Terror celebrated her ninth birthday this weekend. She doesn't actually turn 9 for another week, but scheduling forced us to party early.
This past year, she has grown, and changed, and is becoming her own person in so many ways. She is starting to show a bit of attitude (which I do NOT appreciate!). Her parents are not nearly as funny as they think. Her brother apparently needs a lot of correction.
The birthday party theme this year was "Rainbows". Basically, she wanted all bright colours. Grandma Beth sent her a dress that fit right in...

We planned her cake ages ago. She drew a detailed plan, and I agreed to try a rainbow cake, no fondant. It was SUPPOSED to be covered with wiggly rainbow stripes, in bright colors. But when I was putting the layers together to decorate, I realized why I don't usually use basic cake mixes:

I doctor mixes, add to them, and basically use them as a base for my cakes. This one, I simply followed the directions. It did not go well. When I picked them up, they fell apart. The poker boys were thrilled, since it meant free cake. I was less thrilled, since it was 9:00 pm on Friday night, and I needed this cake finished before I went to bed.
So I did something I am horrified to admit....I went to the store, bought premade sponge cakes, and slapped them together. I decorated them, so they are "homemade", right?!

The girls loved them...everybody got their own miniature cake, and everyone blew out a candle and made a wish.
I still can't believe this amazing child of mine is growing up so fast. She's smart, beautiful, and full of life. I love you Girl Terror! Happy Birthday!

Haircut Rules

2011-06-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

Most women know the basic rules of cutting hair. Last night, for a variety of weak reasons, I broke them all...
-I cut my OWN bangs.
-while they were wet.
-I smooshed my hair down on my forehead, ensuring that they would sproong back up to the middle of my skull after the trim.
-PMS. Not the appropriate hair-cutting time of the month.
-I was tired....next time, I will sleep during the night, and only cut hair during the day.
-I did NOT gently trim away bit by bit. Nope. I hacked it off with one big swipe of the scissors.

The good news is, most people either lie to me all the time, or it really doesn't look that bad. I teach teens, and they tend to be merciless when it comes to critiquing. Mind you, most of my students were more impressed by the fact that I not only OWN a straightening iron, I actually USED it this morning!

If you see me around town and I look different, don't worry. It's just my glowy white forehead, out in the sun for the first time in decades.

My softer side makes an appearance

2011-06-12T14:54:00.000-07:00

My students seem to believe I have no feelings. That indeed, I am a cold heartless wench, with a chunk of ice instead of a heart. Hmph. True, I am not a hugger. Nor do I gush over many things. I like the practical, logical way of making choices. Emotions are for weaker beings. Anyway! I happen to believe I DO have feelings, I just keep them buried and hidden away, not flaunting around like shameless exhibitionists.
I thought I finally had proof of my kind-heartedness, so I told my students this story:
Last night when I went to let the cat inside, he was lounging on the lawn with a suspicious fluff ball in front of him. He came in for a snack. I went out to investigate, and found a sad little mouse with a broken spine. She was desperately trying to get away, using only her tiny front paws.
Now, I am not a vet. I have no experience mending tiny mouse spines. So I figured the best thing I could do for Minnie would be to put her out of her misery. I knew Scipio (the cat) (my husband named him, why do you ask?) had no plans to use his catch for sustenance. He would likely just go back out and play Bat the Mouse until he grew tired of it. Nobody wants Minnie to suffer, right? I asked Hubby to please do the right thing, and go put the creature out of it's misery. Hmph. Hubby would not. He said "It's nature" and "this is what animals do" and crap like that. I said "Nature just came in and had a mid-game snack". Finally Hubby agreed to go get me the hammer, so I could deal with this myself. I figured I would just tap Minnie on the head, she wouldn't even see it coming, and her misery would be over. Good deed for me.
In order to get a good image in your head, you need to know I was wearing my red Christmas nightshirt. The one with the holiday penguins on it. And Hubby could not find the hammer, which is why I had a crowbar.
I stomped out into the yard, annoyed at the cat for being cruel, at Hubby for being a softie, and Minnie for interrupting my evening with her broken spine. One swift blow with the crowbar, and she was....well, not quite dead. My aim isn't as good as it should be. It actually took a few attempts, but then it was all over, and I flicked the fluffy body over the fence (the crowbar actually was handy!).
I tried explaining to the students that I was doing a GOOD thing. I didn't want pain and suffering! I was practicing humane euthanasia! They did not see it that way AT ALL. In fact, they got the completely wrong idea! They looked at me with huge eyes, horrified.
I guess I can hope that at the very least, they now are terrified of failing final exams....

Class of 2011

2011-06-10T07:32:00.000-07:00

Last night was cap and gown at our school. I was so proud of the grads! I've taught almost the entire group at one point or another, and I can say, they are a special bunch. I actually taught one of them in first grade!! This graduating class has a positive, sunny and upbeat attitude. Yes, of course, there are a few miserable ones, but overall they were a smart and funny collection of teens.
There was a moment, however, that I could have done without. The speaker was describing how much the world has changed since our grads were born. Google. Ipods. I-everything. And then I realized....I have been out of high school longer than they have been alive. I am ancient.

SPRING!!!

2011-06-08T05:46:00.000-07:00

This time of year is tough on teachers. Everybody wants to go outside....except me. And to hear my students talk, I am the only teacher in the whole wide world who is mean enough to insist we stay inside. I've explained to about my allergies. I've said no. No. NO!! I've said that the principal says "STAY INSIDE!" and that we know students learn better if they aren't distracted by sun, wind, birds, girls disobeying the dress code...

But still, they want to go outsiiiiide. (You must whine when saying it. Otherwise maybe I won't know what you mean.)

However, this morning when Lucy and I were walking, all I could think was "Man, I do NOT want to spend this day inside!" Sigh.

Today is a great day!

2011-06-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

I went to a retirement party for a fellow teacher last night, and it was great. She taught for over 35 years! We ate amazing food, visited friends from other schools, and listened to the speeches. When you've been in the system for such a long time, people have plenty of stories to share.
The most poignant statement, to me, was this: "She woke up whistling every day. She looked forward to going to work every day. When I asked her after school how her day was, she said "It was GREAT!" every day."
I want to be like that. I want to love my life, my job, my world every day. My new goal is to have a positive outlook, and make every day a great day.

Lucy!!!

2011-05-31T17:41:00.000-07:00

I need to introduce you to the newest member of our family....Lucy the whippet. She is absolutely the sweetest thing ever!

....except when she is being bad. Then she is VERY BAD. Her fondness for paper is getting her into all sorts of trouble.

But she's so PRETTY!!!!

Good thing, since Hubby is really quite attached to his books and magazines.
And she's the very best snuggler.

She has two speeds: On, and Off. There is no such thing as medium. We choose her after carefully researching all kinds of breeds, and she fits into our family perfectly! (Except for the magazine destroying. We don't normally do that.)
She has red hair. So do 3 of us.
She sunburns easily. Hubby burns his forehead almost everyday driving to school.
She is all long, lean, limbs....like the children. NOT like me.
She thinks the best way to spend an evening is curled up on the couch, watching TV or reading a book.

It took me many long years of begging and pleading, but I finally got my dog. She was worth the wait!

Okay then!!

2011-05-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all the support, guys! I didn't realize anyone would still be checking on me.

Life in the Average household is going great. Boy Terror got his tonsils out last week, and so a lot of ice cream has been consumed. I made sure to eat it with him, so he wouldn't feel alone. I'm nice that way.

Last week as we were driving, Boy Terror said "Mummy, I know what two sixteen's are....thirty two!" (I'm adapting to his habit of sharing random number info with me). He then continued "and 4 x 8 is 32. 8 x 4 is 32. 15+17 is ALSO 32. Oh, and 30 + 2 is 32, but everybody knows that!" then he giggled to himself and, I assume, continued thinking funny thoughts about numbers for the rest of the drive home. He's cute, but very weird.

I can't stay away....

2011-05-28T13:23:00.001-07:00

Hmmm.....lately I've found myself composing blog entries in my head. Perhaps it's time to come back?

Thanks, and good-bye!

2010-10-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

1 family
2 Terrors
3 moves
6 years
621 posts
3014 comments

1 final post.

It's been fun, thanks for reading!

My germs will not be deterred!!

2010-09-27T10:43:00.000-07:00

I've been sick the past few days, with a nasty cold/flu/fever combination. On Saturday I didn't move off the couch. Sunday was much the same. However, my friend called me Sunday to tell me she had my germs, thankyouverymuch. I had warned her. I said "Don't sit near me, this is going to be bad." Late last week, when I felt the first snot drip, and the first fever chills, I told her to stay away! Protect herself! Funny lady that she is, she took some cold fx and assumed that she could fight off my killer germs. Even as late as Sunday, when she called to say her body had let her down, she seemed to feel that the germs would not effect her as strongly as they had me. Ha! Ha, I say!!
Misery loves company, so I had a good laugh this morning (still tied to the couch) when she called and croaked "What comes next? Tell me, what horror is the next stage?"
Friends share. And apparently, friends laugh at each other when they sound like a 60 year old smoker comparing gross symptoms.

Odd little people

2010-09-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

My friends think I have weird kids. I admit, sometimes they are a bit....odd. Different from the usual kids.
For example, earlier this week we went to Subway for supper. There was no regular milk left, so I broke down and got the Terrors a chocolate milk to share. Yummy!! Girl Terror drank about half her milk, and then told me "Mummy, I am not drinking the rest of my chocolate milk, because I know you bought us a chocolate egg treat for after supper."
During that same meal, Boy Terror looked up from a loooong moment of gazing into space, and asked "Mummy, do you think that direction is east?" I had no idea (really, why would I know that?!) so he asked his father. Indeed it was east. "That's what I thought," said Boy Terror before going back to his sandwich. What was going on in that little boy brain? Why did he need to know the direction? No idea. I've given up trying to understand.

back in the saddle again.

2010-09-01T06:22:00.000-07:00

Not dead. NOT!!! I just have been busy with summer. You know, important things like hanging out on the beach, reading lots of books, and basically relaxing so much that it pains me to type.

School is back in for the year, and I am torn. Usually I can hardly wait to get back, and this year I was excited but not unbearably so. I love my job, I would hate staying home, but summer was so.....great!! Hot!! Fun!!!

This year I am teaching 3 Planning classes first semester, and 3 Planning plus 1 English class second semester. This is exactly the assignment I asked for. I didn't even have to bribe my principal, he just gave me what I wanted! What is up with that?!

The Terrors are back in school. Girl Terror is going into grade 3. I remember grade 3. I had a crush on Glen. That's as far as I want to think, because I'm hoping she still thinks boys are a foreign species. Boy Terror is in grade 1. My baby! Grade 1! He's still cute and snuggly though, so I know he hasn't grown up too much.

The whole point of this post is to say yes, I'm still alive, and yes, I will be writing again. I just have to find a way to break the writer's block. Let me know you're still here, reading, and maybe that will motivate me!

Summer so far.

2010-07-20T08:12:00.000-07:00

Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it?? That's my excuse for neglecting this blog. It's summer, and I'm having too much fun to sit still and write!

So...what's new....hmmm. Not much, actually! Hubby taught Girl Terror how to play Settlers of Catan last night, and she caught on very quickly. I think we might have a game fanatic on our hands. Hubby has been waiting for years for the kids to be old enough to play board games with him, and last night he finally got his wish. A little gamer, right here in his own house!!

Boy Terror is reading. I'm not sure what level he reads at, since I haven't tested him, but I know he's reading chapter books far beyond the kindergarten leve. I would guess a grade two level. I would worry about him not getting any exercise, but reading IS exercise the way he does it. He starts by sitting on the couch with his book. Wiggle wiggle. He sllliiiiiides down to the floor. He rolls over onto his back, waving one leg in the air. Then onto his tummy, scratches his head, picks his nose, wiggles around, and alternates between lying flat on his tummy and pulling his legs under himself to stick his butt in the air. Eventually, he wiggles across the room. He gets up, and wanders to another room, sits on the floor, and starts again. Oh, and in all this, he never puts down the book. He actually seems surprised when he comes to the surface and finds himself in a new location. I've only interfered twice...once when he was headed for the stairs, and once when I caught him reading while peeing. No WONDER the walls get sprayed!!

We've gone camping, we've driven to several lakes, and today the Terrors have a playdate with two of their school friends. Good summer so far. No time to write. Sorry!

Girl Terror turns eight.

2010-07-01T11:23:00.000-07:00

I haven't forgotten you, really. It's just been a crazy few weeks with the end of school, Girl Terror's birthday, and house renovations. And then I realized I was neglecting my blog, and I froze. Couldn't think of anything worthy of breaking the silence. It's a vicious circle, I tell you. Anyway.

Girl Terror turned eight a week ago. EIGHT. Do you know how old that is?? She's not a squishy baby girl anymore! I still squish her, though. And I tell her all the time that she is my baby. This year we noticed a lot of growing up. She's taller, yes, but suddenly she's all....mature. Can you be mature at eight? Her friends are little girls I don't know. She talks about people I've never met. She suddenly can do so much! I asked her to describe herself for this entry. Here is what she said:

"Ummm...I love science. I am eight years old. I like nature. I read a lot, just for fun. My favourite colour is pink. I have lots of things I want to be when I grow up. Things like a paleontologist, an artist, a mummy. I like playing Grounders with my friends. I like baking cakes." Then she giggled.

The things she didn't mention are her obsession with saving the planet from pollution, her ability to flit through the world, and how much snuggles, hugs, and kisses she requires daily.

I think it's safe to say she's a special little girl, and I love her with all my heart.

He kissed a girl

2010-06-12T15:08:00.000-07:00

My baby boy got off the bus last week and said "Mummy, I finally did it. I kissed Kara. On the lips!" and bounced off. Sigh.
I should have seen this coming. Kara gave him a ring a few days before Kissing Day, and told him he had to marry her. He thought it sounded like a fine plan, and kept that ring on his finger for 4 days. He would still be wearing it, but it fell off in a friends yard, and he was heartbroken. Turns out he worried for nothing...Kara still loves him.
When I told Hubby about the kissing, he said "Well, I guess now we know he's not gay." Um, no. He might just be rebelling, who knows???
I guess the point is, my baby kissed a girl, and while I'm glad he told me about it, I am concerned that if he's already kissing in kindergarten, what sort of trouble will he be getting into by high school???

Versatility Award

2010-05-26T06:20:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Koreen, for the Versatility Award. I don't actually "get" it, but I love awards/ribbons/prizes, so it's all good!

The rules are to 1) thank the person who gave you the award 2) tell seven thing about yourself and 3) pass the award on to other bloggers whom you love, and, I suppose, find to be versatile.

7 Things About Me:

1. I love lists. Already, this is one of my favourite posts, just because of the listing possibilities. I make shopping lists, to-do lists, already-done lists, book lists, etc.

2. I made a "bucket list" with my students last week. It was a much harder assignment than I expected.

3. When I'm stressed I sleep-walk. Last night I ended up in the laundry room.

4. The amount of visible sunshine is directly connected to my mood every day. Don't believe me? Call me when it's raining.

5. As a child, I truly believed that we were all teeny tiny specks on a giant toy, and it was very important to not catch the attention of the Giant.

6. Now that my children are reading, I want to ban magazine covers. Orgasms? Sex? EVERYWHERE.

7. I realized earlier this week that I've become agnostic. I'm not sure yet how I feel about that.

Okay! Pass this on! I'm giving the award to Mary Poppins, Stacey, Carole, Mimi, and Sara. But I expect ALL of you to do it, and leave me a comment so I know!

Happy thoughts!

2010-05-15T22:52:00.000-07:00

I've always tried to look at the positive side of things. In that spirit, here is a brief update on my life:

- The contractor is going to dig up the yard in approximately two weeks. Therefore, I do not need to mow the lawn! Why bother, if the entire thing is going to be destroyed?
- The contractor is going to be digging a moat around the entire house. The Terrors are thrilled! Such fun! We will be living in a castle!!
- The chilly spring weather means I don't have to use the air conditioning in the car, and my classroom is not boiling the students!
-The ice in the lake makes the water along the edge feel so much warmer!
-By accidentally tossing my laundry all into the dryer, and shrinking my favourite clothes, I have forced myself to lose weight.
-Several students have started skipping my class, since they've realized that there is no chance in hell of passing at this point. The good news in this? I can cut down on my photocopying.
-I may have found a link between red meat and my headaches. The only good news in this is that steak is expensive...I will be saving money.
-I missed taking my meds last week for 36 hours. I know now just how important those little white pills are!

That's it. That's all the happy I can find at the moment. I'm sure there's more, but I'm too cranky to see the silver lining right now.

Boy Terror turns six.

2010-04-29T18:59:00.001-07:00

Boy Terror is six years old today....amazing. Suddenly, he is a boy. Tutus have become superman capes. Every vehicle makes a loud noise. Superheros have taken over his mind. Sadly, he has started refusing to hug and kiss me in public. This, of course, breaks my heart, but he's so cute and adorable I keep forgiving him.
Recently he informed us of his career plan changes. He is now in training to be a world champion Olympic weight lifter. I am actually encouraging this plan, since it requires vegetables and meat to grow muscles.
Going to kindergarten has given my baby a whole new world of friends and struggles, french and playground politics, vocabulary and problem solving. He's changed and grown so much it's hard to believe it's only been 8 months since I sent him off, worrying about finding the right bathroom.
My hope for him is that he will always be happy. Every morning he will wake up laughing. The love of his life will love him back passionately. And he will always remember to hug his mother.

Moments in class

2010-04-18T09:28:00.000-07:00

I teach a class of grade 12 boys, and they are my favourite group by far. There are 4 girls in the class, but they rarely show up, so it's usually just the boys. At this age they are comfortable having actual conversations with adults (me) and most days they are willing to talk about almost anything if it means avoiding work. The best moments, however, are when they forget I'm listening. If I sit quietly, and keep my head down, I hear the most interesting things!
On Wednesday we were talking about love songs. This is not so far fetched, since I'm doing a poetry unit right now, and music fits right in. I asked them to bring me the worlds best love song, and then we listened to each selection and talked it through. They were brilliant. Girls listen to a lot of love songs, and are fairly predictable with their choices. The boys, however, surprised me. They had unique songs, ones I hadn't thought about, and they had excellent reasons for their selections. They looked for acceptance, humour, intelligence, and reality in the songs. They chose music about empowering women. Physical attraction was NOT the top of the list.
After the lesson, while they were working quietly on an assignment, a few guys were still chatting about relationships. Yes, really. This led to one of the most brilliant statements made by a student this year. I kept my head down, and my ears open. I also let the topic wander a bit, to see where this would take us.
"A" was talking about his girlfriend. Incidentally, she is also about to be the mother of his child. Apparently, he discovered that she is cheating on him with a mutual acquaintance. His reaction was to declare that he would now go sleep with that guy's girlfriend, to show him what it's like. To get even. To hurt them as much as they hurt him.
A few of the boys were in favour. One smart guy pointed out that it seemed risky...a girl "like that", with a guy "like that" probably equaled a hot bed (ha!) of STI's.
Then "B" said "If you do that, will it make you a better man than he is? No. It will make you just as low."
...
...
...

A bout of brilliance. From a seventeen year old boy.

Not a blog-worthy week.

2010-04-09T06:20:00.000-07:00

I swear, I haven't forgotten the blog world. I've just been occupied in the "real" world lately. Here's a brief rundown of the last week and a half:

Wednesday: I blogged! See? I did remember you! I also sat through a torturous Professional Development Day, and had an evening of parent-teacher interviews.

Thursday: No school. More parent-teacher interviews. Well, in theory. The reality is, if parents do not show up to meet me I just sit there, smiling stiffly, wondering how much longer I can be polite.

Friday: I'm sure I did important things....Oh! I remember! Hubby came down with the flu! Right after I cleaned the toilet!!! Poor guy. We had to cancel poker, so I went and saw a horrid movie with friends. What, you thought I stayed home and played Florence Nightingale?

Saturday: Yummy turkey dinner with friends!! Poker night!

Sunday: Happy Easter! Hoppity, hoppity. I don't really have an excuse. I just didn't blog.

Monday: I had plans to go get my passport photo, and all sorts of other fun things. Instead, I got the flu. See, that's why I don't like to be nice to sick people. They give you germs.

Tuesday: No idea what I did. I went to work. No excuse for not blogging.

Wednesday: I thought about blogging. But I'm lazy.

Thursday: Still no blog. But! I got a cell phone! My very first one! Yay me! Now I just need to learn how to use it....

See? Boring life. Nothing to write about. Lots of words, but no deep thoughts. Have a good weekend, and I'll work on finding something interesting to write for next week.

Watch your mouth

2010-03-31T06:17:00.000-07:00

One of the "side effects" of being a teacher is that I feel the need to "shush" people. This would be okay if I only did it in school. Or if I only shushed kids. But no, I am a teacher 24/7 when it comes to some things. In the theatre, I have no problem at all turning and giving the annoying people behind me "the look", and asking them to turn off their cell phones. I have been known to ask teenagers in public to watch their language, please. If my children are in the vicinity, I get downright vigilant about the foul words.
This doesn't mean I personally don't swear. In fact, high school teachers have some of the worst potty mouths of anyone. After all, we spend all day listening to some very creative phrases. I say things that I hope my children never hear. It's when I think those little ears are nearby that I get squirrely.
One night this past week, I think I might have stepped over the line from "protective Mummy" to "crazy lady". I was using my computer in the dining room, and Hubby was in the living room, watching TV. The Terrors were playing all over the house, the way only small children can...you know, where they aren't in any one room, because they are in all of them? With one ear I was listening to Bill Maher on TV. He entertains me even if I sometimes disagree with his point of view. Suddenly, Bill let loose with a passionate string of creative words.
"AHH! Stop! Shush!!"
Oh right. It's TV. He can't hear me...
"Watch your language! Hey!!!" This time, accompanied by hand and arm flapping.
Crap. Yelling at the TV again...
"Why must you use those words???! Nice words, please!"

Yes. New low. Yelling at Bill Maher, on TV, from my dining room, to watch his mouth. Crazy lady territory.

What were you like in high school?

2010-03-25T14:26:00.000-07:00

Some coworkers and I were chatting this morning, and we got onto the topic of how much we've changed since high school. One of the ladies married her high school sweetheart, and was very thankful to have missed out on the joys of dating as an adult. Another was VERY glad she had NOT married her high school sweetheart!
At the time (back in the dark ages, before the dawn of civilization) I thought I was hideous. Fat, ugly, and obviously not popular. Well, it's true I wasn't very popular. Neither was I an outcast, though. And looking back at those pictures, I was not fat. I was perfectly normal, healthy, and if I may say so...pretty.
My clothes were a disaster, but that really wasn't my fault. I lived with a mother who insisted on buying all my clothes, and choosing them every day. Her goal was to make me look as hideous as possible. No, I am not just remembering "teen angst". That really truly was the goal. She was hoping the girls would mock me, and the boys would avoid me. Well, the boys thought I was a great friend, nothing more, and the girls were fortunately able to look beyond the bulky nurses shoes and knitted sweater vests. I didn't have a lot of close friends, since I wasn't allowed to socialize outside of school, but I wasn't picked on either.
I look at my students now and wonder what they will remember from high school. Most of them don't realize just how amazing they are, and some of them will never figure it out.

What were you like in high school? If you could go back, and tell your young self one thing, what would it be?

Opening up

2010-03-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

A commenter asked me not long ago how I manage to write about my life, opening up my stories for the general public.
I think it helps that my adopted parents do not read this blog, so far as I know. I have thought through the fact that someday they might find this blog. I know that I'm treading a fine line between anonymous and public. Sometimes I say things that make people uncomfortable, and if my parents were to become readers here, I would end up censoring my writing.
I share my stories for a reason. I want people to stop being ashamed of sexual abuse. I think if we talked about incest more, it would happen less. Emotional and psychological abuses run rampant, and nobody says a word. If just one person reads my writing and feels less alone, that will be enough for me.
Depression is another huge topic that everyone is familiar with, if not personally, then in someone else they know. I want to take away the secrecy and encourage people to get help. There is no need to be ashamed, and it doesn't mean there is "something wrong with you" in the head.
Naturally there are some topics that are off limits. I might talk about my family, but my marriage is not your business. I will never write something about my children that I wouldn't want them to read in 10 years. I am careful of what I say regarding my job...I want to stay employed, after all!
I spent too many years being silent, hiding, and being ashamed. Not any more.

Moving up the ladder

2010-03-12T06:14:00.000-08:00

I was given the opportunity to fill in for the Vice Principal at work recently, and it was a learning experience. Turns out, I AM a nasty bitch! Who knew?! Thanks, Smoking Student, for pointing that out to me. Also, thank you for the directions "Go back to the pasture with the other cows" because really, I had no idea what else I should be doing.
Being an administrator is a lot like being a teacher, except without the good parts. You don't get to talk endlessly to a captive audience. Instead, you do crowd control. Rather than having fun conversations with happy students, you get to have exchanges like the one mentioned above. (My part in all that was to ask the smokers to come inside the building and go to class, now that the bell had gone. Just in case you were wondering what exactly I did to be called such creative names.) On the up side, I was able to go pee whenever I wanted, which is a fantastic perk.
I'm not sure I'd want to be in an office full-time. I like teaching. I like being in my classroom, doing what I love. I really enjoy spending time with most of my students, and I would get tired of being the Big Meanie pretty fast. But for a day every now and then, it's a nice change. And my bladder appreciates the break.

The blog entry in which I share waaay too much information

2010-03-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

I just got home from my first bikini wax. Okay, not quite my first, but the only other time I've done this was many, many years ago, and the technician was a crackhead, and really, nothing got accomplished other than a small section of my thigh got waxed with extremely hot wax.
So. Today. Off I went, feeling brave. My friend (ha! Some friend!) swore to me that it would only feel like a bandaid coming off. No biggie.
Right away I told Holly (the technician) that it was my first time, but yes, I am a brave soul, and would like to go "all the way." She was all "I'll be so gentle you won't even notice me." HA! Why do these women keep lying to me?! She handed me a scrap of towel and said to strip down and hop up on the table. When she came back to the room I was busy trying to decide where to put the teeny towel. No matter what, parts of me were hanging out in the breeze. I don't know why I bothered....she just took it away anyways.
First came the wax. Oooo....warm. Nice. Soothing. See? This is not so bad. Then Holly gently (as promised) placed a strip of paper/cloth over the wax, and smoothed it down. I wasn't so sure about her touching me like that, but still....all was good. She smiled, and asked "How are you doing?" at the exact same time as she RIIPPPED the strip away. Nice distraction technique, Holly. However, I cannot make small talk when the delicate skin around my lady bits is being torn from my body. Before I could say a word, she had done the whole warm soothing wax, gentle strip, RIIPP routine again...this time even CLOSER to places I treasure!! This woman is nuts! How can she keep smiling while inflicting RIIIIPPP-oh-my-god-she-did-it-again pain on innocent people?! What the hell is wrong with her? What is wrong with ME, that I am still here???
I finally got a chance to catch my breath and speak. "I think, maybe, that today will not so much be a "all the way" kind of day, okay there, Holly? In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm good now! Done! So thanks!" She smiled at me. "I thought you might change your tune. No problems. I'll just do the other side, and you'll be done. Halfway there!!!"
Halfway? We were only half done? Was she kidding? And off we went, with more warm wax, gentle strips, riippping pain (literally) until she decided I was tortured enough.
As I was paying (yes, I paid for this experience) Holly asked if I'd like to book my next appointment. Ha! Ha ha!!! She's a funny one, that Holly.

Shamelessly making my friends do my writing for me.

2010-03-03T06:24:00.000-08:00

As you may have noticed, I'm stuck with writer's block. And the longer I wait to put something here, the worse it gets. Nasty cycle! So I asked my facebook friends for suggestions. Here are the ideas they sent:

Marc said: "ok. The only thing people love more than hero's is watching them fall."

Shereen: "Write about why you need to write in a blog?"

Buffy: "me....just kidding lol and hurry up I miss it!!"

Sherry: "Early spring in the Yukon"

Barb: "okay I know I am getting older but am vain enough to think that Mother Nature has treated me kindly. Yes I murmur prayers to the memory of the creators of hair colouring products but other than that have gone the natural root - oh excuse me that is route.

We were on an sunset cruise in Mazatlan and was chatting with a woman who in the course of the conversation asked me "Who does your botox? They do great job."

Needless to say I must have looked like a large fish out of water with all the gum flapping. It took a bit of thinking to decide if this was a complement, a slam, ignorant, whatever ... answers; yes, no, obviously.

So a comment on what are the accepted topics of conversation in a social situation. As an "older" woman I know things have changed but I seemed to have missed a memo or two. ;o]."

So there you have it. Wisdom and wit from my friends around the world. I promise I'll be back again with something real, but this is it for now!

She's pregnant.

2010-02-19T06:00:00.000-08:00

She's pregnant.

Teachers aren't supposed to have favourites, but we do. One of my favourites is a sparkly, happy and perky girl who marches to her own beat. She's bright, cute as a button, and not afraid to say what's on her mind. She's the kind of kid I wish I could be friends with. Of course, she's way to cool to be in my league...
I knew she wanted a baby, because she told me. She loves her boyfriend (he's NOT one of my favourites) and wants a little person to call her own. Over the course of six months in my classes, she has opened up and shared some very clear thoughts and opinions with the group, as well as in private conversations. I respect her point of view. Like I said, she's a smart girl.
I talked with the kids about teen pregnancy. I showed videos of their peers, trying to dispel the romantic notions. We created budgets, showing the ugly truth about having another being to care for. I talked about lost dreams, childhoods ended, and the importance of education. I sent home my "Babies" for weekends of feeding and diapers. But somehow, I still feel I failed.
When she told me she was pregnant, my heart broke for her. I hugged her, and said she could always come to me for anything, but really I just wanted to shake her.

She's seventeen, barely past being a baby herself, and she's pregnant.

I believe

2010-02-13T09:35:00.000-08:00

I read a song like this earlier this week, and loved the format. Unfortunately, I can't remember where I saw it!

I believe...

that sometimes you need bad things to happen, so you can appreciate the good
you can always choose your response to life
that in order to be successful, you must be a little bit selfish
motherhood is not for everyone
if you still haven't found what you're looking for, you aren't looking very hard
rules can be broken
you can't blame your choices on your childhood
a good book can be nourishing
the world does not owe you a thing
elementary school teachers are true saints
some people will never grow up
other people are born old
you are responsible for how other people treat you
hugs are a necessity
it's okay to fail sometimes
my life is perfect.

Leave a comment, telling me what YOU believe.

My baby boy can READ!

2010-02-05T09:37:00.001-08:00

I may have talked about this before. Sorry if I'm repeating myself! Suddenly, I understand why people use tags.

We are now officially a household of readers. Boy Terror caught the bug, and he's been buried in a book all week. I knew he could read, he's been sounding out signs all over town, but now he's reading books. BOOKS, people! I love it!
Growing up, I loved reading. It was a great escape from my family, it was a way to see the world, and it was something that I didn't have to share. Because I loved it so much, my mother was against it. I only went to the library when I was staying at my friend's place in the summer. I kept a book hidden under the foot of my bed, until one day she found it, and tore it apart. I still haven't finished Ben Hur. In grade 12, I moved into a dorm, and I still remember the thrill of realizing I could stay up late...past 8:30!...and read!!
I think the best thing a parent can do is encourage a love of books. As a teacher, I can always pick the readers out of the group. They get higher marks. They have a greater vocabulary. The kids who don't read worry me, because I know they are missing out on so much.
He's five, he's cute, and he can READ!!

Interesting moment in the grocery store

2010-01-31T09:36:00.000-08:00

At our local Superstore, you are eligible for a freebie when you spend a certain amount of money. Since we are horrible grocery shoppers, and are attracted to bright shiny expensive things, we regularly get free stuff. Woo hoo! A reward for overspending!
Last week I I was standing in the line to get my free lasagna. I don't even really like lasagna that much, but it was free, and that meant it was worth standing in line for 15 minutes. Finally there was only one guy ahead of me.
"Ma'am," he said to the lady behind the counter "my bottle of rum was stolen! Right while I was over there bagging my groceries!"
She did soooo much better than I would have. She calmly looked at him and said "I don't know what to tell you sir, but we don't carry rum in this store."
"I know that. I brought it with me, and I put it down while I was getting my stuff, and someone walked off with it!"
"Well sir, it is pretty busy in here today. Hard to see what all is going on."
"The cashier said to talk to you. She said she couldn't help."
"Well no, and really, neither can I. I'm sorry this happened to you, but there is nothing I can do."

And with that he wandered off.

Free Hug Week

2010-01-17T09:49:00.000-08:00

This week is "Free Hug Week" at my school. My goal is to survive without punching anyone. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the idea behind "Free Hug Week". I understand that we need more love, and our students need to know we care about them. But hugs? Really? I work in a high school. If I taught kindergarten, this might be okay with me. But I spend all day telling my students to "wear condoms!" "stop touching each other in the hall!" "respect personal space!" and now the powers that be have told them "This week, hug everyone!" What exactly is the goal here? To make sure groping is still alive, or to make some poor kid cry because everyone is getting hugged but her?
I'll admit, my main issue with "Free Hug Week" is personal. I do not like to be touched. Don't laugh, I'm serious! I have very clear personal boundaries, and I'd prefer if everyone respected them. In high school my boyfriend snuck up behind me and surprised me with a hug. I responded (very quickly, and unfortunately without thinking) by driving my elbow back into his face with enough force to take out two teeth. Then I turned around and saw who it was. Oops.
I do let certain people hug me. My family is actually forced to hug me on a regular basis. I have certain friends that I automatically hug when I see them, but they've put years into earning that hug! There are 3 or 4 female students who hug me, and while I tolerate it, and don't run screaming from the room, I am not very comfortable. I need to see the hug coming from a distance, so I can prepare myself. I can loosen my arms, exhale, and tell myself that it will all be over in a minute.
Last year, in response to "Kick a Ginger Day" our VP had a "Hug a Ginger Day". Unfortunately, she forgot to mention to me that the entire day would be filled with people randomly trying to hug me. After the fourth staff member attempted to put their arms around my rigid body, I lost it. As another teacher came at me in the staff room, with the hugging posture ready to go, I bellowed at him "WHY THE F$^& IS EVERYBODY TOUCHING ME?!!!" Needless to say, he did not continue with the hug.
I'm thinking of wearing spikes and possibly obnoxious perfume for the week. If you see me stalking around the building, with a dark cloud over my head, please, for the love of god, do not attempt to make it all better with a hug. I might very well punch you.

Gym people

2010-01-09T23:56:00.000-08:00

I've started going to the gym with my friend Cheri, and it's great, wonderful, all that, but it turns out I now have a whole new group of people who annoy me. Shocking, isn't it?!
Here is my list of Gym Idiots.
1. People who walk in the wrong lane. The track is very well labeled. Inside lane, SLOW. Outside lane, FAST. Middle lane, passing. The woman slowly sauntering along the fast lane makes me nuts. Really, lady? Can you not read? Or are you just that special that you can't walk with the rest of us slowpokes?
2. The people who insist on staying side by side, when the track is crowded. If it's a slow day, go for it. Walk three abreast if you like. But when it's a weekend morning, and the place is crowded, you DO NOT need to stay right beside your buddy. It's not like you're going to get lost. It's an oval track, there's nowhere to go.
3. The woman who carries her purse. I realize it's a high theft area, and clearly she does too. So why not leave the bag at home? Or in the car? Or in a locked locker? How can it possibly be comfortable to walk with that strap over your shoulder?!
4. Teenage boys.
5. People with small children. Yes, your babies are cute, but they are also in my way. Go home.
6. The guy who waits until I pass him before he starts running.
7. That woman with the BO. I know, I know. It's a gym. But for the love of all that is good, shower once in awhile, and wash that shirt! Everyone sweats, everyone gets stinky. Not everyone shoves the stinky into a locker to wear again tomorrow.
8. My students. They don't normally make me this cranky, but I'm all sweaty, no makeup, and I don't feel like chatting. Go away.
9. Skinny people. (Except my friend Cheri. She's allowed to be cute and skinny and at the gym). Go away, skinny people. Go work out somewhere else, where I don't feel like a freak next to you.
10. Women who wear gallons of perfume, and leave a trail of scent everywhere they go.

Okay, I think that's enough for now. The good news? I've been going to the gym, and I love it. I just hate all the people.

The Wonder Pants

2010-01-05T19:35:00.000-08:00

I am now of a certain age, where fashion is a silly idea. I've resisted, but turns out I've crossed the bridge, turned the corner, and am now firmly on the side of the elderly. I know this because of my pants.
My friend calls them "The Wonder Pants". They can do anything. They never wrinkle, they are machine washable, they feel like sweatpants, and they match most of my wardrobe. Due to some mystery of the universe, they fit me as if they were tailor made for my butt. Those are the good things. The bad things...oh, they are bad.
These pants are the sort my Nanny would wear, and she called them "slacks". They are polyester knit. Yes. Both polyester, and knit. The fabric has some stretch, through the miracle of modern fabric, so they do not have fastenings of any sort. They are pull ons. The lint, cat hair, and dust are attracted to my pants as if I am wearing a swiffer duster. The label says Comfort Fit. Seriously! I am wearing pants that the best thing the company could think of was "Well, I bet they are comfy!"
The only excuse I can think of to wear linty, stretchy, polyester elastic waist comfort fit brown slacks in public is that I am old. Elderly. Past the point of caring. But! I am comfy.

honest ramblings

2009-12-31T10:58:00.000-08:00

Life is not fair.
Shocking news, isn't it? I am a member of a cake forum, and we are currently discussing societies tendency to sugar coat everything.
When kids play sports, not every participant wins. So why are we giving them all ribbons? Sometimes I see parents give little Johnny a gift on Susie's birthday, because you know, otherwise he would feel left out. Left out of his SISTER'S birthday celebration!
When we were kids (back in the time of dinosaurs and all that) if you didn't win, the idea was you would try harder. Now, your mother will call the coach, demand that you be listed as a winner "because you couldn't do any better with such a terrible coach", and then she will get that coach fired.
In my opinion, if you can't do the school work, you fail. Unfortunately, since I am not in charge of these decisions, I now have a room full of grade 9 kids who can't read, have never written an essay, and must use the calculator on their cell phone for the most basic math. Apparently, this has saved their self-esteem.
I admit, I can be a bit too honest. Don't ask me what I think unless you really, really want to know. But in the same way, if I ask you for YOUR opinion, it means that I respect you enough to hear your true thoughts. Even if that means my shirt looks like a reject from the 70's, and also makes my ass look massive.

Christmas Cuties

2009-12-28T23:40:00.000-08:00

I have writer's block. Again. I realize that the last week has been full of wonderful blog fodder, but do you think I wrote any of it down? Of course not!
We had a lovely Christmas here in the Average House. Boy Terror got a yo-yo, which is exactly what he has been asking Santa for since October. He does not know how to work a yo-yo. Neither does anyone else in the house. That doesn't matter, he's happy. Girl Terror got a mini cake baking set, and tomorrow we will break it out and do some serious baking.
Generally, the Christmas vacation so far has been filled with fun, laughter, and serious cuteness. So rather than keep rambling, with no end in sight, I'll leave you with these pictures.

The things boys say

2009-12-21T00:03:00.000-08:00

Sometimes boys say things they really shouldn't. Or they blurt out stuff and they realize what a bad idea it was. Some examples from the "grown-up" boys in my life:

"Remember what your hairdresser said about your natural colour being beige? Yeah...it's time to dye again."

"Women don't want honesty. They think they do, but when they get it, they realize that actually they just want the fairy tale."

When you are only a little boy, though, the things you say are just cute.

While helping me clean bathrooms: "I pee upstairs. Only Daddy pees down in this toilet. So.....this must be Daddy's mess." sigh. "I guess I better teach Daddy how to aim his penis better."

While playing poker with the entire family: "I want YOU to win this hand, Mummy, since you are losing so much."

Suck it up and have fun, or else.

2009-12-16T06:12:00.000-08:00

I love my job. I do. But some days, I just want to throw my hands up and quit. Yesterday was one of those days.
My second period class is a Family Studies class. It's one of the easiest courses in the school to pass, and it nicely fits the "I want to graduate, so what can I shove into my schedule so I have enough credits" slot. This term, I have all girls. Fifteen girls are on the register, but six regularly show up. With a class that size, I have lots of freedom to do things that wouldn't work with a larger group.
Lately a few of the girls have been....whiny. They have been giving me attitude. Eye rolling. Actually, it's just one, but she is strong and leads three or four others into being miserable. I've heard a fair bit of "But this is boooorrrriiiiing. Why don't you ever do anything fun with us?" Because you know, it's MY job to entertain them.
So, in order to bring some holiday cheer into our week, and to spark their interest in the kitchen, I said we would make cookies. I brought all the stuff from home. I lugged in
a bag of flour
a bag of sugar
carton of eggs
two cookie sheets
ginger
cinnamon
cloves
shortening
and told them we were making gingersnaps! Yay! Tasty holiday cookies! The whole building will smell delightful! And they said....
"I don't liiikkkkeee gingersnaps"
"Ewwww...I don't want to touch an egg"
"This is stuuuuupppiddd"
"How booooorrriiing"

And I lost it. I looked up from the recipe, and saw two girls actually enjoying this. The rest were sulking. "Enough!! If you don't like gingersnaps, sit over there, and don't make any. I'm not forcing you to eat them. Just stop the whining. I am sick to death of you guys complaining and moaning that we never do anything, and now that we are, you are just being miserable. If you don't like it, just be quiet."
At that point, I was still fairly calm. But then that one stellar student had to ask "Mrs. F, are you cranky today?"
...
...
...
"ACTUALLY, I was HAPPY today until you guys showed up. The eye rolling, the attitude, and the general disrespect has totally ruined my mood. Today, and EVERY DAY. I would like to do something nice and fun. But Noooooo. It's not good enough for the princesses. I work hard to make this class great, and if you don't like it, tough. Today, we are making GINGERSNAPS. Suck it up, and have fun, or shut up. Got it?"

There was silence, and then one brave soul said "I think the cookies are burning."

People of that Big Blue Store

2009-12-12T21:10:00.001-08:00

1. I am, in my heart, a mean person.
2. Stuff makes me laugh. I like to share that stuff.
3. You might find this website mean. I hope not. I hope it makes you laugh so hard your coffee shoots out your nose.
4. Go! Enjoy!! Learn from the mistakes of others!!

Dammit, I think I'm aging.

2009-12-08T06:10:00.000-08:00

I recently turned 39. It kind of snuck up on me, you know? Maybe because for two years I refused to accept the fact that I was 30. I was fooling myself into thinking "I'm not aging! Look! I'm still a spring flower!". But the reality is, I see.....The Signs.
My hairdresser has informed me that my natural hair colour is now beige. Not a pretty silver, or dignified white, or even grey. Beige. Like the walls in a boring office. Guess who will be dyeing their hair forever and ever?!
I spent ages staring into the mirror the other night, trying to figure out why I have giant crevices on either side of my mouth. Somehow, I thought my wrinkles would be delicate, and perhaps confined to places no one ever sees. Nope. My mouth now has a yucky wrinkle on each end, pointing down towards my double chin.
What really brought the whole "aging" thing to light was when I noticed vertical grooves appearing in my fingernails. I thought that perhaps my diet was lacking in calcium. Maybe I need more hand lotion. I googled, and when I didn't get the results I wanted, I googled again. Know what causes vertical grooves in your fingernails? AGE. GETTING OLD. I was not pleased. Especially since while I was staring at my nails in horror, I noticed the wrinkles all over my hands. Arrghhhhhhh!
Moral of this rambling tale? I don't remember. I'm getting old, and it makes me cranky.

Blogging meme

2009-12-01T18:18:00.000-08:00

I've had the questions for this meme kicking around in my draft box for ages, and since I'm stuck in Writer's Block Hell, this seems like a good time to get it out. I don't remember where I got it, so if it was from you, let me know!!!
Leave me a comment and tell me so I know to come see your answers.

1. How long have you been blogging?

Five years and four months. Wow! Time sure flies!

2. Why did you start blogging?

I was living in a tiny rural town, staying at home with two little ones. I happen to be a person with lots of words that must get out every day. With no one to talk to, I turned to the internet.

3. What have you found to be the benefits of blogging?

I love being able to go back and read what life was like a year ago, or even 5 years ago. I know we all think we will remember every cute thing our children ever do, but the sleep deprivation does take a toll! Plus, I've connected with a lot of amazing people on the blogger world.

4. How many times a week do you post an entry?

I don't want to admit this. When I first started, I wrote at least one post a day. Now, I'm struggling to do one a week. I need topics, people!!

5. How many different blogs do you read on a regular basis?

I read around ten blogs. I'm always looking for new ones, so let me know if you have some great suggestions.

6. Do you comment on other people’s blogs?

Not as often as I should, but I try!! Do YOU? Hmmmm? Do YOU LEAVE ME COMMENTS?

7. Do you keep track of how many visitors you have? Is so, are you satisfied with your numbers?

I used to. I don't anymore. I am a praise junkie, though, so more readers and more comments are always welcome.

8. Do you ever regret a post that you wrote?

Yes. Fortunately, Hubby reads this blog, and he isn't afraid to tell me when I need to take something down.

9. Do you think your audience has a true sense of who you are based on your blog?

Probably not. I'm really honest on my blog, but I don't show all sides of my personality.

10. Do you blog under your real name?

No. What, you thought I was really named Average, last name Mom?

11. Are there topics that you would never blog about?

Yes. I like my job, so I keep my mouth shut. Also certain aspects of my marriage are not for public viewing.

12. What is the theme/topic of your blog?

Mostly parenting, but I also talk about my job as a high school teacher.

13. Do you have more than one blog? If so, why?

No. I can barely manage to post here. Another blog would do me in.

Talk WITH your teens, not TO them.

2009-11-24T07:57:00.000-08:00

I had to go stock up on pregnancy tests again last night. No, I am not crazy. Yes, I remember that due to the vasectomy/hysterectomy combo (special #2!!) I will never be pregnant again. I also am aware that buying 6 boxes of tests, for a total of twelve pregnancy tests, makes the cashier speechless. But I gave out my last one yesterday (it was positive...) and I need to be prepared for the next girl.
I give the tests to girls who come and quietly request one. Girls who generally are looking a bit green, and scared, and ready to bolt. This is not really part of my job, but when I was told I'm not allowed to have a basket of free condoms in my room, I responded with "I guess I'll be stocking up on pregnancy tests, then!"
It might seem like I am pretty casual about all this, but inside, I am horrified. Kids are getting pregnant. Despite all my lessons, my charts, posters, and long talks, kids are having sex without giving any thought to the consequences. STI's, babies, and broken hearts mean nothing. Sex is a fun party game. It's something to do when you're bored. It is a way to feel loved, even if it only lasts for the evening. I know that all parents say "Not MY child", and I have some big news for you. Yes, your child. YES. YOUR CHILD. Keeping them home at night helps, but guess what? You can do it during the day! You can do it on the bus, you can do it in the bushes, and you can do it when your parents think you are asleep, and your partner has quietly come tiptoeing into your room.
Only marginally more upsetting to me is the fact that for every 5 positive pregnancy tests, I see less than one full term pregnancy. Did you know your child does not need to ask your permission to get an abortion? Well, they don't. And your doctor should not break that confidence by calling to tell you. Again, children are acting with what seems to me to be little serious thought. An abortion is easy, cheap, and makes it all go away. I strongly encourage my girls to talk with their moms before taking that step, and I tell them all the right things about parental love overcoming the horror, but guess what? They aren't telling you. All you know is that they are really down for awhile, maybe you chalk it up to the flu.
I don't have the answers. I have no idea what else I can do to convince my students to save that special part of their hearts for someone special, and stop using sex as a way to end a drunken party. It is starting to make my heart hurt, and I don't know what to do.

He's not quite spy material.

2009-11-23T06:04:00.000-08:00

Last week was my birthday. In the car, on the way home, I was teasing the kids about my present. There is a fine line, of course, between "guessing" and totally ruining any surprise. "Is it a puppy?" I asked. "Nooooo". "Is it....a pink fur coat?" "Nooooo." "Hmmm. I guess I'll just have to wait!"
Then, in a quiet voice from Boy Terror we heard "I'll tell you one thing, it's not a kind of book."

I'll give you three guesses what my gift from the kids was. Go on. You'll never figure it out!

Right, Mummy?!!!

2009-11-16T15:26:00.000-08:00

I stayed home today with Boy Terror. All weekend he was sick with a fever, headache, sore throat and fatigue. He was extremely pathetic, but oh so cute! I figured a day with a quiet little snuggle butt would be lovely.
I forgot. He's a boy. He woke up this morning and was AWAKE! ALIVE!! ALERT!!! New plans...we need to be busy, apparently.
We decorated a cake. We made a crock pot supper, and biscuits. We hung snowflakes from the ceiling, did laundry, and went for a walk to the mailbox. This is what it all sounded like:

"Hey, Mummy, is it time to decorate the cake? Are you ready for me to do my job? Hmm, Mummy? Ready now? Is it a white cake? A chocolate cake? A brown cake that is not chocolate? Who is it for? Why? Ready? Put the flowers here? I'm a good helper, right Mummy? Are we done already, Mummy?"

"This is fun! Mummy, isn't this fun? I like peeling carrots. Why? Why should I turn it over? I'm doing great, right Mummy? Carrots and yams are the same colour. I wonder if they are related. Maybe they are. Who knows. Do you know Mummy? I'll chop the carrot now, okay? Oh. Okay, I'll wash potatoes. If potatoes grow in the ground, how do they see the sun? What are they made of? Why are they good for me? My sleeves are wet, but that's okay, right Mummy? This smells good! We smell with our noses, right Mummy? It's molecules floating in the air, right Mummy? If molecules are close together they are solid, but if they are all apart they are liquid, or even gas, right Mummy?"
we interrupt this monologue for a song about molecules.

" I love these snowflakes, Mummy. Snow is a solid from water, which is a liquid, right Mummy? Why does hair grow? Where does it start? I can hand you the snowflakes, okay Mummy? I think they all look very nice hanging there. If we had 14, they would go all the way to the wall. We only have 7, though, so only half the ceiling gets snowflakes. I grew again, right Mummy?"

"These clothes are wet, right Mummy? They go in the dryer. Where do the water molecules go from in the dryer? I have 17 socks. If I had 18, I could have 9 pairs. But I don't. Plus, look, Mummy, these socks do not match. But that's okay, right Mummy?"

"IT'S SNOWING OUT HERE!!! MUMMY!!!! IT'S SNOWING OUT HERE!!! Our street is a long street, I think. Mummy? What do you think? Can we see the mailbox from here? Do you think Tiki is playing with my marbles while we are outside? What did we get in the mail? How do you know which is our mailbox? Mummy, look. Dirt in the snow. Now, how do you suppose that happened?"

"Why do you need a nap, Mummy? Aren't you too old for naps? I'm too old for naps, right, Mummy? Right?!"

Aidan Aidan everywhere!

2009-11-14T11:21:00.000-08:00

When Girl Terror was born, we gave her a name that we knew might cause problems in the future. Aidan is typically a boy name, but it suits her perfectly. I remember feeling a twinge of concern, though, when the nurse told me that in the room next to us, a little boy had been born the day before. And his name was Aidan.
Flash forward 7 years. Girl Terror is in grade 2. There is a little boy in her class named...Aidan! And he has red hair, just like her! And freckles, just like her! AND his birthday is just one day before hers!
I was worried for nothing. The two little red-haired Aidans think this is the coolest thing ever. I personally want them to grow up and get married, just to see the look on the census taker's face.

Hair. See, Getting on Nerves.

2009-11-12T18:45:00.000-08:00

You know what I hate? When I realize "Hey, I need a haircut" but I do not call and make an appointment. Instead, I wait a week or so, look into the mirror, and think "Holy crap, I need a haircut!!!" and I still don't call. I wait until I've reached that point where the cuticle scissors look sharp, and the idea of "free form" bangs is appealing. Then I call. Turns out I also really hate it when my hairdresser has the nerve to have customers other than me, and tells me to wait another 8 days to get this mess off of my head.
This morning my overgrown hair was even worse than usual. I was running late, and since hair was the last thing on the list, it didn't get "done". I went to school with straight, blah hair just....hanging on my head. My students told me it looked great! Better than usual! What have I done differently?!!
It could be worse. My friend Sara dressed as Coraline's Other Mother (from the movie), and her students said she looked fabulous! She should do her hair and make-up like that every day!! Bwah-ha-ha-ha!!! Every time I looked at her I cracked up, but her students thought she was dazzling. In fact, her normal self would just be a let-down now that they know her true potential.
I'm not sure where I was going with this post.
My hair is getting on my nerves.

Quality parenting.

2009-11-09T20:27:00.001-08:00

We have started teaching the Terrors to play poker. Might as well make them earn their keep, right?
So far, it's the most entertaining thing Hubby and I have ever seen. We are positive these are both our children, they came from the same genes, but their poker styles could not be different.
Girl Terror has a poker face to make her famous. She gives away nothing. She and Hubby were in a hand together, and after the flop I pointed out to her that her Daddy had raised the bet. If she didn't have a hand to beat a pair of aces (one ace was on the flop) she should consider folding. She scowled at me, scowled at her cards, and bet. The little bugger had the pair of aces!!
Boy Terror has no idea what his cards are. Sometimes they are good. Sometimes not as good. But he bets like he has all the money in the world, and it totally works. The kid has horseshoes out his ass. Mainly he just likes to play with the chips.
Due to my upbringing, I fully expect to go straight to hell, no stopping in purgatory, no collecting $200. Cards are evil, poker is the devil's game, and I am corrupting the youth. I'm trying to see it as a fabulous math lesson, but at the same time I'm watching for the lightening strike.

If I were in charge....

2009-11-03T06:12:00.000-08:00

If I were in charge....
coffee would be healthy.
In fact, chocolate, salt, and all those other tasty things would actually burn calories. You'd have to be careful how much you indulged, or you would waste away to nothing.

If I were in charge, the first time a teenager rolled her eyes she would get a stern warning. The second time, her eyeballs would roll right out of her head, serving as a lesson to the other snotty kids in the class.

In my world, where I am the boss, there would be a rule that states: "A nasty bug can only travel through 1 member of each household before becoming benign." That would put an end to the endless cycle we are currently stuck in.

When I control the weather, snow will arrive November 15th, and stay until January 5th. The rest of the year will be summer.

If I were the boss of all, my favourite shows would NOT have reruns. Especially on nights when all I really want is to curl up with Gregory House, or Cal Lightman.

Staff meetings would be put into memo form, and e-mailed to me at home. 'Nuff said.

In my happy world, where I control ALL, the toilet (and the surrounding floor, wall, etc) would be self-cleaning. Or perhaps we could devise a system where boys with bad aim get a teeny zap of a shock every time they steer the stream off course.

Heck, I'm in charge. Let's make the entire house self-cleaning.

If I were in charge, every mother would get an extra 2 hours a day, to fit in wherever she liked. The only rule would be you must use your two hours for yourself. You can't share them with the laundry, whiny kids, or needy husbands.

If I were in charge, my hair would get longer and more lusterous every year, rather than thinner and paler. My body would continually morph into a Victoria Secret model shape, and I would never find those wrinkles and age spots again.

If I were in charge, things would be different. Trust me.

Why?

2009-10-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

Why?

Why does my cat love q-tips so much? It's not like she's cleaning her ears with them.
Why does my electric toothbrush make me have to go pee?
Why do children ask "Whatcha doin', Mummy?" when I am clearly doing something easy to identify, like dishes, reading, laundry...
Why does Boy Terror insist on wearing long sleeves and pants all summer, and then break out the shorts and tees for October?
If I buy all of us new slippers, why does Girl Terror only want to wear mine?
Why did I shake hands with all those people at parent-teacher interviews? I knew it would make me sick!
Why do I wake up at 5:00 every morning? Just so I can watch the numbers go by?
Why does my son refuse to shut the door while he's in the bathroom?
Why don't I ever get good songs stuck in my head, instead of stuff like "Bye, Bye Miss American Pie" and "Come On Eileen"? I mean, they are good songs, but not after 6 days through the chorus.

I've got more questions, but for now, this will do. Why don't you leave a comment, telling me your burning "why".

Not Our Fault

2009-10-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

Warning: This is not a gentle post. Some readers might be disturbed, and I apologize. But...it's my blog, my thoughts, and my life.

I am not a person who normally believes in signs, or messages from a Higher Power, or even in karma. I don't know what else to call it. You get the idea....I like my beliefs to be concrete and tangible. But today, I believe I am sick for a reason.
This morning I felt slightly off, but not sick. I went to work, and I was fine. By 10 am, however, I felt horrible. My nose was dripping, my head was pounding, and for a minute I thought I might pass out. By 10:30 Hubby was on his way to pick me up, and a substitute teacher was in my class.

I never watch Oprah. I did, years ago, but not for at least 7 years now. Today while I was on the couch with my box of kleenex, I turned on the TV and changed the channel to Oprah.

In the past half hour, I have heard three women tell their stories, and each and every one of them has said something that could have been from my diaries. They have the same story as me. In fact, one woman's father was a minister, just like mine.

I heard these brave women tell my story. They have put my thoughts into words. My secret concerns, and doubts about what I did wrong and why I didn't stand up for myself. That powerful need for love, and for a parent's approval is so strong that we tolerate or even participate in some of the most unthinkable situations.

We always assume that incest or sexual abuse is forced onto children. No one ever says that sometimes, children do not speak out because they are afraid of losing even that warped love. People don't talk about the ugly fact that even abuse can feel good, physically. Today it suddenly all clicked for me while I watched Oprah interview survivors. It is not a sign on weakness in me that I let my father touch me until I was 18. I lay still and silent, but that does not mean it was my fault.

You know, I've healed. My past is safely where it belongs...in the past. But I think today I learned that there is still a lot for me to learn and work through. Somehow I still believed that part of the abuse was my fault. I had questions about why I allowed such things to happen. Today, I got answers. I heard, really heard, the right words.

I was sick today for a reason.

Questions from Fawn

2009-10-11T09:40:00.001-07:00

Fawn responded to my writer's block with a wonderful list of questions. Woo hoo!!

1. What is the scariest thing you've ever had to do?
Tell a room full of church officials exactly what my father had done to me. In detail.

2. What is the most disgusting thing you've ever had to eat?
Well, I probably didn't have to eat it, but I was being polite, so I ate it. A plate of raw ground burger, soaked in spiced pear juice.

3. What is your favourite winter activity?
Watching snow fall. Drinking hot chocolate. Decorating for Christmas. Oh, you meant outside! I don't often DO outside, but tobagganing would be my favourite.

4. What is your favourite season?
Summer. I love Christmas, but it's surrounded by all that winter!

5. What's been the biggest surprise of motherhood?
How selfish I really am.

6. How do you carve out time for yourself?
I get up insanely early so I have time alone first thing in the morning. And my kids go to bed pretty early, so I have a bit of time in the evening.

7. Did you make the wedding cake for a friend, or have you started a business (or are you thinking about it)?
I made the cake for a friend of a friend, for a special introductory price. I am toying with the idea of starting a side business, but so far I do it for fun. Fun that I get paid for, mind you!!

8. What are your kids up to when you suddenly realize the house has been quiet for far too long?
You know what? It's scary, but if they are quiet for a long time, I know they are reading somewhere.

9. What's your favourite song and what memories does it evoke?
Pachebel's Canon in D. It makes me think of my wedding.

10. Who's going to win at the end of this hockey season? (Ha! You could tell me anything and I'd believe you!)
The guys in the white? Red? Blue? Ummmm......I'll have to get back to you on that one!

Babies everywhere!

2009-10-06T06:05:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all the great ideas!! I will have to ask you guys again for topics. Except for Julia, who sent me a nasty link that I was smart enough to not click on. She also needs to work on her grammar if she's going to leave virus/advertising type comments.

Stacie, the babies are always entertaining. Each student takes a Baby home on Thursday, and becomes a parent until Monday. They love it.....right up until Friday. Babies cry at night! Shocking!
Every weekend, I get at least one phone call from a freaking out student. The Baby is crying for no reason. They think maybe they "broke" Baby's neck. There are weird noises. Once every few weeks, a student will call in tears of frustration. By Monday, they look and feel like crap. Suddenly, a condom seems like such a simple, brilliant idea!
Parents crack me up. They come to parent teacher interviews, and say the same thing. "This is a great experience....for those other kids. My child, she/he is smarter than that. We don't have to worry about things like....sex. But those other kids, they really need this!"
If you see these teens with their white and blue car seats (hopefully with a "Baby" inside) chat with them! Ask them how it feels to be a teen parent! Pester them! Trust me, it's fun! Ummmm, maybe make sure first that they are actually in the class, and not really carrying a live baby. That could get awkward.

writer's block, but still plenty of words.

2009-10-03T11:50:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to write about, so I asked Hubby. Here are his ideas:

1. I just finished making my first wedding cake.
2. My son has strep throat. He's had it for three weeks. We didn't notice.
3. Same son is still going strong on the math. Counting by elevens is the funniest thing ever, apparently.

See? Boring life. In other news:

1. Girl Terror has reached a moody, attitude-rich, attention seeking stage. Send vodka.
2. I sent home the "Babies" this week in class. Only two of the five students have called me at home to freak out.
3. It's snowing/hailing/raining here in the north, and I hate it.

Maybe YOU have some ideas for a topic? Send me thoughts, questions, topic starters!

Girl Poker

2009-09-25T06:13:00.000-07:00

Every second Friday, a group of Hubby's friends come over for poker. It's low stakes, $5 buy in. Not a huge scary deal or anything. Well, I decided to try it with girls. I invited a group of women over to play poker last Friday night. In case you were wondering, Girl Poker is a completely different game than Boy Poker.
Some of the ladies had never played poker before, so we played a few hands with cards up. (Right now, "true" poker players are falling over dead as they read that statement).
Boys do not give second chances. Girls, on the other hand said things like this: "Don't fold! No! You can say "check" and that means "free" and I'm going to "check", so you will get to see the next up card! Here, take your cards back. Are those the ones you had?"
Boys talk about boobs. A lot. Girls talk about boobs, too, but in the context of breast feeding. Not at all the same.
Boys haul around chairs for their snacks, they belch, and they fart. Girls did not touch the snacks I so lovingly put out until I placed some into bowls and passed it around. Then, they paused the game to discuss with chocolate bits were the best, and which ones were yucky.
Boys show up with extra buy in cash, in case they turn out to be losers. Girls show up with no money, and then borrow cash from other ladies. But they bring gifts and snacks to share.
At one point, Stacey ran out of chips. So Sara did the unthinkable, and scoped up a handful of her OWN chips, passed them to Stacey, and said "Here! Play with these!"
It seemed perfectly normal to the girls to ask questions like "If I have a queen of hearts, and an ace of hearts, should I try for the flush? Or is the straight better?" during a hand.
At the end of the night, there were $3 left in the pot, unaccounted for. Boys would have sat right back down, re-counted their stacks, and figured it out. Girls? Nope. They were all "It's okay! I have enough! You keep it!" Nobody knows if they won or not. I don't think anybody cares. We did however laugh so hard my face hurt, and I'm pretty sure we will do it again. And maybe this time we will learn to bluff. Ha!

New school term, new fun times.

2009-09-18T06:31:00.000-07:00

The school year is now underway, and I think I've got a handle on my classes. It looks like it will be a good semester. I gave the first quiz this week, and is pretty clear who studied, and who thought they already knew everything. Silly kids. I warned them, too, that if they failed the birth control/reproductive system quiz, it would be an awkward parent teacher interview!

"So, Mr and Mrs Parent. Here is Johnny's quiz. You'll notice he didn't write anything for questions 5 through 8, and oh! Look! Despite my best efforts, Johnny still cannot identify a vulva. And while I appreciate his creativity and humour, I really don't think we want him believing that the tip of his penis is called "lollipop". Hmmm. Perhaps some at home study time would help?"

I have only had to confiscate two ipods and one cell phone. This group seems to be quick at catching on. Could be the fact that I answered the cell phone while I had it on my desk, and politely told the buddy on the other end that "Susie is in Planning class right now. You might as well come back into the building, since she won't be meeting you for the pre-planned smoke break".

The only down side to the new semester is the lack of condoms. The school council has decided that having a basket of free condoms in my room was sending the wrong message. Never mind that the Health Services people send me 50 condoms every few weeks. Clearly, the students are using them, and that is bad. I guess I better stock up on pregnancy tests.

Boy Terror goes to kindergarten

2009-09-05T10:45:00.000-07:00

My baby boy started school this week. My baby. I'm finding this really hard to accept. At times, he seems so grown up, but other times? He says things that make me wonder if the world will ever be ready for him.
He's brilliant (in my opinion, anyway!) at math. He can add up to twenty in his head, and can add in multiples of ten. He can count by 2's, 3's, 4's, and 5's. He is an energy conservist like no one I've ever met. Every day, as he wanders through the house, he is on the lookout for lights left burning. After he turns them off, he will come into the room and demand to know "Who here was wasting energy?"
He is still my baby boy, though. He snuggles into my lap. He lets me smooch his totally adorable cheeks, and he tells me he loves me....in public. He believes in the tooth fairy, and ghosts. He is scared of the dark. I'm not at all ready to let him go, but he is more than ready to be off.

I am boring.

2009-08-31T11:45:00.000-07:00

I am boring. This morning, Girl Terror headed off to her first day of grade 2. Boy Terror does not begin school for another few days, so he and I were left at home. Or, to hear him talk, we were totally abandoned without a backwards glance, discarded like a dirty kleenex, and left to rot in the stagnant air of the dull house.
He has nothing to do. No books. No toys. Most importantly, no one to talk to. I tried my best, but I am boring. I read to him. We watched a show together. I built a marble obstacle course that rivals the best roller coaster in the business.
He hugged the cat and told her how sad it is to be alone.
After a week of bickering and fighting and tears and "she said she wants alone time!" and " he won't let me play with ANYTHING" I somehow thought he would be delighted when she left, but instead he has been counting down the minutes until noon, when she will be back to light up his life.

They must get it from their father...

2009-08-22T11:40:00.000-07:00

Last night at supper, Boy Terror demonstrated that he is more than ready for kindergarten. He counted by 3's to twenty-one, with only one prompt from me. He counted by 4's to twenty-four. He counted by 5's to thirty. When we asked him to count by 6's, he got to twelve, and then declared "Twelve! That's four threes!!". Then he was stuck. He guessed seventeen. He does not have this memorized. We can see him doing the math in his head.
Lately he has also been starting to read. He knows that we sound out the words, and he does a pretty good job! So far, his biggest obstacle is that he keeps trying to read words backwards. He's not reading, really, yet, but it's right there, on the tip of his brain.
I think we are so surprised because as a second child, he just hasn't gotten the same attention as his sister did. So we don't see the process, just the results.
I'll be honest....I suck at math. Really. In college I had to take Bonehead Math, also known as Math for Elementary School Teachers, in order to be sure that I would not make a fool of myself in front of my students. The math skills both Terror have shown MUST come from their father. I'll take credit for the cute, though!

End of summer.

2009-08-18T21:53:00.001-07:00

Wow, summer just flew by, didn't it?! I know that yes, we still technically have a few weeks left, but for me it's pretty much over. I'm going to work tomorrow. And the next day. Probably the one after that, too. I'm more than ready. By this time of the year, I really miss school! I start to dream about my classes, I wonder what students I will get, and I miss the camaraderie of the staff room. So, for that part of the "end of summer", I'm excited.
Here's the not so good part. My baby boy is going to school this year. My baby, my snuggle butt, my littlest one, is a Big Boy now and is headed off to kindergarten. I was sad when Girl Terror hit this stage, too, but this time it feels worse. I was excited for her, and she'd been talking about school for years before she finally went. Boy Terror, on the other hand, has just recently started to show some enthusiasm. Don't get me wrong, he's happy and excited, he just didn't bother getting worked up about it years in advance.
I am not ready. Once he goes through those doors, he's gone from me in a totally new way. He will have new friends. He will never be my "baby" again. I might very well cry.

movie ideas

2009-08-11T17:00:00.001-07:00

I need your help. Even you lurkers out there...it's time to comment!

I go back to work in 21 days. Mentally, I went back today. I'm trying to think of some videos, movies, documentaries to add to my library. Do you have any suggestions?
I teach CAPP (Career and Personal Planning) and Family Studies. In each semester, I cover a variety of topics such as health, sex, jobs, post-secondary education, career choices, and family life.
I don't often show movies in my class, but sometimes you just... need to. And if they are on topic, relevant, and worth my time, I will be more willing to spend class time watching.
So bring it on! Give me ideas!

Their tastes are more mature than mine.

2009-08-09T15:12:00.001-07:00

On a recent car trip, we were listening to songs from "Bear in the Big Blue House". The Terrors are too old for that show now, but I miss Bear and his songs. Everyone was singing along to the mail song:

(Come on. Let's go check the mailbox and see what's in the mail today. Hmm.)
What's in the mail today?
What's in the mail today?
What's in the mail today?
What's in the mail today?
Is is it a picture that my Grandma drew?
Of Grandma dancin' with a kangaroo
It could be a cookie recipe
From my aunt who says
She thinks the world of me
Is it a story from a magazine (Magazine!)
About a monkey in a submarine (In a submarine!)
I would laugh to see a photograph (Ooh ooh aww)
Of my good friend jumpin' rope with a giraffe
It would be fun to send a letter back (Ooh yeah)
It makes me smile to think my friends will say (Say what?)
I wonder what's in the mail today?
What's in the mail today?
What's in the mail today?
I wonder wonder
What's in the mail today?
What's in the
What's in the mail today?
Oooooooh. Yeah.

So. You get the picture. Lot's of speculation about the possibilities in the mail. As the song ended, Girl Terror sighed and said "If you really want to know what's in the mail so bad, just. go. check."

I think it's safe to say she's "over" Bear.

Panties. The bane of my existance.

2009-08-06T14:06:00.000-07:00

I am having an underwear crisis. Yes, really. And no, it's not that funny. A few weeks ago, I realized it was high time I bought some new panties. (god, I hate that word.) My needs are simple, and I'm easily pleased. I was looking for basic black, cotton, comfortable underpants. Nothing weird. There must be enough fabric to cover my substantial back end. There must not be so much fabric that it also covers my boobs. The leg holes need to be just right. Not so small that the blood flow to my legs is cut off, but not so gapingly huge that I look like a sumo wrestler. Not thongs, because those are shoes. Off I went to the store, convinced that this would be a simple errand. HA!!!

First of all, the sizing charts boggled me. In some brands, the size I usually buy looked like small scraps of spare fabric. In other brands, they could have been used as sails for a whaling ship.

Once I figured out the right size, there was the issue of colour and pattern. Remember, I said basic black. I could not find a package. There was bright flowers, stripes, plaid, and of course smiley faces. Some packages had black, but the other pairs in the pack were hideous 50's sofa patterned. Trust me, when your ass is the size and shape mine is, giant orange and fushia blooms are not attractive.

I finally found a package with three black pairs. The right size. The right price. I was giddy....until I realized they were the dreaded thongs. Arghh!!

Anyway. Long story short, I eventually bought some panties. (There's that word again...) They were black. The size seemed appropriate. I wore a pair the other day. Turns out, they are absolutely perfect, so long as you don't mind your panties drifting down until your butt is hanging out, totally uncovered, while you walk. These panties are fantastic for sitting. They stay nicely in place if I don't move. But as soon as I start walking, the top slides down, and eventually they are oh-so attractively wedged under my butt cheeks, held in place only by the force of my jeans.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this tale. I guess I just want sympathy, and to let you know that if you see me doing what looks like a weird little jig, in the middle of the street, just keep on walking. I'd like some privacy while I hitch up my drawers.

Questions from the peanut gallery

2009-08-04T11:43:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Fawn and Kara!

Fawn asked: Questions...
- What made you decide to pursue teaching as a career? Was it what you always wanted to do?
- Have you always lived in Whitehorse? Have you ever lived in another country?
- What's something you'd like to learn to do?
- Dog person or cat person?
- Do you have a garden? If yes, what do you grow in it?

1. I've always, always wanted to be a teacher. I loved school my whole life, and I couldn't imagine ever leaving! Plus, growing up as a preacher's kid, everyone just assumed I would become a teacher and marry a minister. Ha!!
Originally, I was an English teacher. I have my degree in Secondary English. I love teacher English, but I love being employed even more, so when the chance came along for me to teach CAPP (Career and Personal Planning), I jumped at it. I think my personality is really well suited to the job. I spend my days talking to teens about life, growing up, and all the fun stuff. Then I send them off to math class!

2. Hubby was born and raised in the Yukon. After we got married, I agreed to move up here for two years, to give it a shot. That was in 1998. I'm still here, and I suspect I'm here for life!
I'm originally from the East Coast. My heart is always going to be in Nova Scotia! After we got married, we moved to South Korea for 14 months. It was the absolute best experience for two newly married, recently graduated teachers.

3. I want to learn to play the cello. I used to say that I would take the time to learn while I was pregnant, but now that we have two kids, and NO MORE on the way, I'll have to change the plan. If anyone has a cello out there that they'd like to loan me, let me know!!

4. I'm a dog person, living with a cat person. So I have a cat. I love my kitty, I really do, but I want a dog sooooo much!

5. I don't have a garden. I'd like one, but since the house is for sale, and I keep foolishly hoping it will sell, I haven't even planted flowers this year.

There! Thanks, Fawn! And Kara, once school starts up again, I'm sure I'll have more stories for you!

Help!

2009-08-02T12:41:00.000-07:00

I'm bored, I'm feeling boring, and I need something to write about! Have any questions, or good ideas? I'm open to suggestions!

Things I Do Not Enjoy Doing. aka: Cranky Rant.

2009-07-29T21:07:00.000-07:00

1. Laundry. This can be broken down into several sub-categories:
a. Unballing balled up socks. Stinky, not mine socks.
b. Sorting other people's underwear.
c. Dripping laundry soap on my arm, each and every time.
d. Listening to the washing machine go ballistic.
e. Finding the Kleenex in the wet clothes.
f. Accidentally tossing my favourite shirts into the dryer, turning them into Barbie clothes.
g. Listening to the Terror's whiiiinnnnneee about the unjust expectation that they will put their own clean clothes away.
h. Knowing that I must wash, rinse, and repeat in 5 days.

2. The cat litter. I don't do it very often, since I am blessed with a man who caves under relentless nagging. But sometimes he makes me change the litter myself, and no amount of sulking gets me out of the job.

3. Wearing socks. Thank god for summer!

4. Paying the city bill. It irks me to no end.

5. Getting what looks like a really great book from the library, and then discovering that it is not so great. And I've tried to read it before.

6. Running into people in public that I really don't want to see.

7. Answering the phone when it's my mother in law.

8. Being wrong. Thankfully, this rarely happens.

9. Waiting. For anything.

10. Running out of things before #10 on my list.

15 books

2009-07-22T19:55:00.000-07:00

I copied this straight from Facebook. I wanted to see what your list would look like, too! Leave me a comment if you post your book list.

Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes. Tag 15 friends, including me because I'm interested in seeing what books my friends choose (as well as pick up suggestions for my reading list). To do this, go to your Notes tab on your profile page, paste rules in a new note, cast your 15 picks, and tag people in the note - upper right hand side). I will not be offended if you don't play.

(in no particular order)

1. Anne of Green Gables
2. The Bible
3. Little House on the Prairie - set
4. When Rabbit Howls
5. Romeo and Juliet
6. Please Understand Me
7. Ender's Game
8. To Kill A Mockingbird
9. Gone With the Wind
10. Memoirs of a Geisha
11. The Kite Runner
12. Clan of the Cave Bear series
13. The Thornbirds
14. The Time Traveller's Wife
15. The Outsiders
Bonus: Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.

So many more, but these are the ones I thought of first!

My mind went back to work last night.

2009-07-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

Every summer, after school is out, we go through a "de-stressing" period. It takes both Hubby and I a week or more to fully relax and get into summer mode. Then for 6 blissful weeks, we are stress free. No school worries. Well, not exactly. Hubby is prone to random days of school stress throughout the summer, especially years like this one where he is headed into new subjects in the fall. He can't sleep, he looks worried, and he gets restless. But then it all goes away. Me, I usually am fine until August and then BHAM! I wake up, stressed and excited and ready to go. For some reason, though, this year I am freaking out early.
I couldn't sleep earlier this week. I spent waaaayyy too long going over lists of students in my head, trying to figure out who I will have in my classes. I am teaching a subject new to me, Communications 12, this year, and I am worried already. Last night I dreamt about the class, and it was horrible! Totally out of control!
If I am already stressing, in July, things do not look good for August.

Things I did NOT do.

2009-07-11T19:53:00.000-07:00

For a long time I worried about what kind of mother I would be. Specifically, how I would relate to a daughter. All the studies say that we learn parenting skills from our own parents. While I can easily say that many people out there had worse childhoods than I did, I still do not want to repeat history.
Earlier this week Girl Terror told me that sometimes after she is in bed, she reads her books. "Just a few pages, Mummy. Until I get sleepy." I understand. I loved reading in bed as a kid. I still love reading in bed! But.... it's dark. And she should be sleeping. I told her "Be sure you aren't hurting your eyes, and don't read for too long." I did NOT glue blackout boards to her window. I did NOT rip her book up. I hopefully did NOT discourage her from telling me what she does.
Today, we went to buy a reading lamp for her. Normally, we avoid anything with cartoon characters, pop singers, or TV personalities on it. She knows this, and it is not a problem. I explained once why I was against Bratz, and she has never asked for any of their products. I let her know that Hannah Montana isn't my favourite role model, and she looks longingly at the merchendise, but rarely asks for it. Today, she admired a Barbie night light. We came home with a dolphin shaped light that Hubby picked out. Long story short, the dolphin was hideous and didn't cast light, so she and I took it back. Without Hubby there to be strong, I knew the pink Barbie lamp would be like a siren.
Girl Terror and I wandered up and down the aisle. We saw modern crane lamps. We admired "antique" table lamps. And of course, we saw a pink Barbie lamp, and a pink Princess lamp. I took a few basic lamps, and told her to pick one. She couldn't. She wanted to know which one was my favourite. I wouldn't tell her, and she got truly upset. If I wouldn't tell her my favourite, then she couldn't pick one.
I remember being this child. I too was a people pleaser. My favourite color was whatever my mother's was. My favourite food, the same as Dad's. I never voiced an opinion for fear of being wrong. I do not want my child to be like me.
Girl Terror finally choose the lamp she was sure I liked. As we were walking toward the check-out, she told me all the reasons this was a good choice. It was practical. It would last a long time. Daddy would like it. I could see her convincing herself that it wasn't so bad, and I flashed back to shopping with my own mother.
We were shoe shopping. At my school, the dress code required skirts or dresses, and dress shoes. I wanted what every other teenage girl had...pretty dress shoes with a bit of a delicate heel. My mother chose burgundy leather, practical, no-nonsense, sensible shoes. The type nurses wear. They had thick rubber soles. They were hideous. I did NOT say a word. I wore them all through grade 11, and I hated every minute.
I wasn't allowed to have pretty, girly type things. I did NOT ask, because that would just show a weakness waiting to be exploited. I wore ugly shoes. I had practical clothes. I wasn't allowed to read in bed, but if I were, I bet my lamp would have been a basic, possibly second hand, stern black or grey metal lamp.
We went back to the lighting aisle. I put down Girl Terror's first choice, and picked up a pink Princess lamp. "I think I need a Princess lamp, okay?" She looked up at me. "Oh, Mummy!! I think you need it too! And I can use it, okay?!" She hugged me. She beamed at me. She proudly carried her new lamp to the check-out, and it is now next to her bed.
Today, I did NOT repeat the mistakes from my childhood. Instead, I let my daughter be a little girl, and I was her beloved Mummy.

This commercial brought to you by Girl Terror.

2009-06-30T22:11:00.000-07:00

I always worry about the kids watching too much TV. They really don't, but I worry anyway. Especially when I hear Public Service announcements coming out of my child's mouth.
We were outside playing with one of Girl Terror's birthday presents, Moon Sand. Well, the kids were playing. I was flat out on the deck, soaking up the sun. In the midst of the usual chatter, I heard this little tidbit, complete with "TV announcer" voice.

"Moon Sand. What is moon sand? You might think it is sand from the moon, but it isn't! It is like sand, but it has colour added, to make it pretty! It can be blue! It can be green! When you play with it, you have fun. It says Moon sand, but it IS NOT. You think it is sand from the moon, but you would be wrong! For more information please visit our website at pbskids.com!"

And then we went back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Therapy in writing.

2009-06-28T22:04:00.000-07:00

It was Father's Day not so long ago, and I didn't post. It's not that I forgot, I just am still having trouble with some holidays, and Father's Day is a big one. I feel so very fortunate that my children have an amazing Daddy. He is. I truly think Hubby would do absolutely anything for his babies. In fact, he is the only reason I am willing to celebrate Father's Day. I'm still working through my own messed up issues.
My friends don't understand how I can still be speaking to my parents. I should mention, I rarely do speak to them. I myself sometimes wonder why I acknowledge them, my father in particular. I think that I still love him, in a detached sort of way. Perhaps it's guilt. Maybe I remember the good times well enough to get past the rest. I have said in the past that I forgive him, but I have not forgotten. I will never forget. Sometimes I wonder if I've even truly forgiven. But part of me is still wanting his approval, for whatever reason, and I am at heart a peace-seeker. I am not willing to erase the past or my memories of it, but I seem somewhat willing to let it lie. Then I feel guilty for that!
I called home on Saturday so Girl Terror could politely say thank you for her birthday card. (See? I want them to know I have well-mannered children!). I spoke to my mother first, and I could tell she was "in a mood". You know what I mean. There were no words, no tone, but the mood was there. She put my father on the phone, which I hate, and I spoke briefly to him. Mood was there, too. All in all it was a polite, strained, and civil conversation, but when I hung up I was shaking both inside and out.
I hate that he (both of them, really) can do this to me. They can upset my inner balance without even being in the same time zone. I hate even worse that I let this happen. I open myself up, I pick up the phone, and I hate it every time. EVERY TIME.
June is never a good month for me. It is his birthday and Father's Day, all in one short month. That is two separate occasions to feel guilty for not sending a card, two days I don't call, and twice in one month I am guaranteed to spend long moments thinking about my past. This year, after putting my family through an incredibly foul mood, I decided to make some changes. My goal is to let go of the guilt. Stop thinking I have to forgive and forget. Give myself permission to be angry occasionally, and then move on. I will celebrate the great relationship my children have with their Daddy. I will give thanks that they will not have the same experiences I did. I will let go, and walk away.

Boy Terror is growing up.

2009-06-24T06:26:00.000-07:00

Lately the Boy Terror has been unbelievably cute. Like, scoop him up, sprinkle him with sparkles cute.
Last week at dinner I asked him what we should get his sister for her birthday. He thought about it a moment, and then put down his fork, slid off his chair, and came to whisper in my ear. "A PRINCESS" spit hiss slobber. Then back to his chair, to pick up his fork and continue his dinner. Girl Terror pretended she hadn't heard. Quite a feat, when I suspect you could have been in the far reaches of the house and still caught most of it.
To have a bit of fun with him, I asked (out loud) "A real one?!" He looked at me and sighed. Put down his fork. Wiggled down off his chair. Came over to my ear. And whispered "NO". Back to the chair, fork, dinner.
I think his cuteness right now is due to the fact that in two days, he is done daycare. Forever. In the fall, he will be a Big Boy, and he will go to school. My baby is going to be a school kid! I know I had trouble letting go of Girl Terror, but she was so very clearly ready and eager. This child, however, is my little one. My snuggly, squishy cheeked baby.
Earlier this week he informed me that he is now going to call his father "Dad". Not "Daddy". He is, after all, a Big Boy, and it seems like the right time to make the change. I did not break down and sob.
As a teacher, I love the education system. School is where children grow and learn, and become interesting people. As a Mummy, however, school is where my sweet boy will learn some very bad words, he will hear all about shows I haven't let him watch, and he'll grow up and away from me. I'm not ready to let him go.

Let them eat cake.

2009-06-20T22:11:00.000-07:00

For lack of a better post, I've decided to share some of my recent cakes. Adding pictures is NOT something I'm good at, so bear with me.
This yellow one is for my B block class. It's one of my favourites.

The staff had a potluck, and it was strongly suggested that I bring cake. This is a vanilla cake covered in strawberry buttercream. Very, very yummy.

Hubby bought me some purple icing spray paint, so I used it with star sticker stencils to make this cake for B block students. I don't particularly like the way it turned out, but it still tasted good.

I like this orange marbled one. I wanted to learn how to make bows, so A block class got a gift shaped cake!

I made all these gum paste flowers awhile ago, and I wasn't sure what I'd do with them. This cake for D block just sort of...happened. I love it, though!

This is the inside of the Easter egg cake pictured below. Very Eastery!

Easter egg with the cute (NOT creepy!) legs. Okay, so some people at dinner found them creepy. Not me.

This cake has a pina colada filling that is to die for. It's covered in buttercream. Tasty!
So, are you hungry yet? I am! Must go make more cake!!!

Parents get on my nerves.

2009-06-12T20:52:00.000-07:00

Today is the last Friday of classes...woo hoo!!! Don't get me wrong, I've had a great semester. This is the Dream Semester for a teacher. I've had four classes of amazing kids. They are happy, they are cheerful, and they love my class. Naturally, there are a few that aren't doing well. Can't win them all. This last week I've had 3 parents call.
The first one just was checking in to make sure everything she was hearing at home was true. Yes, her child is fully caught up. Yes, the exam is open book. Yes, her child will pass with flying colours. No surprise that this parent has been in touch with me all term.
The second parent who called wanted to know what "Johnny" would need to do at this point in order to pass. Excuse me? We have never even met, despite my repeated phone calls home. "Johnny" has not been to my class in over a month. It is soooo not my problem that "Johnny" thinks he's going to be a computer programmer, and failing my class is holding him back. And no, there is no "big project" that mommy can do with "Johnny" to convince me to pass him.
The third parent started her phone call with the statement "Susie says that you just now told her she has 47% in your class. How come you haven't told her this before? This is totally unfair! How is she supposed to catch up? What, you want her to fail?" I haven never met this parent. I'm not entirely sure why her daughter chose to tell her mom the current mark, when she hasn't mentioned it the last 5 times I've handed out mark updates. When I told the mom "I was actually impressed that Susie has brought her mark UP to 47% since midterms" and that the bonus work I have given Susie (created, coached, and marked by ME) was clearly a good idea, Mom informed me that "Giving Susie more work" was not the answer. I disagreed. Giving Susie an assignment she could do to bring up her mark, rather than just punishing her for skipping more than 20% of my class, seemed like a good way to help her succeed.
I think I give more than is required for my job. Like most teachers, my job does not end at 3:30, and I spend many evenings and weekends doing school work. My students have my home phone number. They have my e-mail address. They can find me in the building all day long. I tell my classes right at the beginning that they are to call me if they are absent. I will do whatever I can to work with the various sports/band/family trips that come up during the year. I talk to them in the halls, I know who they are dating, what is going on in their lives, and they know I care about them. I cannot, however, save them from their own enabling parents.
Parents. They are the reason students are failing.

Common sense. Not so common.

2009-06-06T10:46:00.001-07:00

This morning we (the Terrors and I, NOT their father) were cleaning the house. The kids have learned that yes, they must pitch in. And they must be cheerful about it. As they finish each job, they run to me and ask for another. The idea is, if we work fast, we will be done fast!
Boy Terror was running out of jobs. He's a bit harder to employ, since he seems to lack....what is that called....when you just know what to do? Ah yes. Common sense. Very absent in 5 year old boys.
I asked BT to get the brown laundry basket, and to put all the clothes from the floor (Hubby's side of the bed, I might mention) into the basket. Since I've worked with this child before, I knew to break this down into steps.
1. See the basket? Pick it up.
2. Go to Mummy's room.
3. See the clothes on the floor? Pick them up.
4. Put them in the basket.

At this point I must have been distracted, because I told him to also put the laundry from my closet floor with the stuff he'd collected. He said "Put it together?" and I said "Yes". I didn't elaborate. I foolishly thought it was clear. A few minutes later, I found ALL the dirty laundry, piled in my closet. The empty brown basket was beside the pile.
Zero common sense. I pity his wife already.

Dance

2009-05-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

Girl Terror had her Dance Recital today (and last night). Too much fun!!! Okay, so the getting ready, and the backstage room with the crazy moms, and the 3 (THREE!) hour long program were all a bit much for my taste, but for 90 seconds or so it was a blast. Her class dressed as Raggedy Ann dolls, complete with red yarn hair. They danced, and twirled, and generally just oozed cuteness all over the stage. I think the highlight for Girl Terror was the fact that she got to wear make-up.
This is it for dance lessons. She may return to them some other year, but right now she says that next year she wants to sign up for gymnastics. That's fine with me. The rule is "One physical, one musical" for each child 6 years of age and up. I refuse to be a taxi, and I happen to think that unscheduled time is good for kids. Plus, I'm selfish. I don't feel like spending evenings and weekends going to various activities, none of which involve vodka.
Boy Terror sat remarkably still throughout the 3 (THREE!) hour long show today. Whenever he got bored I told him "Look! It's breakdancing!" and that got his attention. His little friend Josh is in breakdancing, therefore it is cool and amazing. Of course, Boy Terror now thinks that breakdancing can sometimes involve wearing a tutu. Hey, it kept him sitting still.
I'm pretty jealous of the talented teens I teach. They dance, they choreograph, and they teach the little ones. It looks so easy when they do it, but just watch. If I try to do it, my elbow will get dislocated, and I'll fall on my ass. Much better to just continue in my roll as an audience member.

The cat whisperer.

2009-05-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we took a lovely drive to Skagway, two hours away, to spend a relaxing afternoon together. Before we left, both Terrors were trying to "help" get us on the road, and they wanted jobs to do. I ran out of jobs a bit to soon for Boy Terror's taste, so I started making stuff up. In desperation, I told him to explain to the kitty where we were going for the day so she wouldn't be lonely.
He flopped down on the floor next to the sunbathing cat, and started. "Meow, meow meow meow. Meow..." He looked up. "Mummy, what's the name of the place we are going again?" "Skagway." "Thanks!" and back to the cat...."Meow-meow, meow meow." He stood up. "I think she understood. She'll be lonely, but that's okay." And off he went to communicate with his more human sister.

Deep sleepers

2009-05-20T06:17:00.000-07:00

As you may have heard, we are selling our house. This means nobody is allowed to walk on the carpet, eat in the kitchen, or do ANYTHING in the bathroom. Real fun, I tell you. So, last night we found out that there will be two viewings today. Yay!! And of course, we immediately noticed the few microscopic dots on the carpets that still needed steam cleaning. I ran to the store to buy more cleaner for the machine, and Hubby vacuumed the house. When I got back, he pointed out that the worst spot (kitty puke stain, bleech) was in the kid's room. Where they were sleeping. We did what any concerned, loving parent would do....we opened the bedroom door, and roared in with the steam cleaner.
I held open the curtains so we could see the floor, and Hubby spot cleaned. Meanwhile, less than two feet away, both Terrors slept. And slept. They did not even roll over. Nothing. The machine roared, the light poured in, and neither one of them even twitched.
All this time, we've been turning down the volume, making parties tone down, vacuuming during day time only, when it turns out those two wouldn't have ever noticed. I'm thinking it's time to bring back the nightlife!!!

snippets

2009-05-18T10:17:00.000-07:00

Even in the midst of the crazy of our lives, my kids can crack me up. They are so cute! And snuggly! And snotty! That last one isn't really a good thing. It's the reason I should be at the store right now, buying more tissue.
-This morning I said to Boy Terror "Are you cute?!" and he leaped up in the air and shouted "OF COURSE!"
-Girl Terror and I were talking about the process of buying a new house. I didn't want to freak her out (very easy to do with this child) but she didn't "get" why we need to sell first, and then buy. I explained that a house can cost $300,000, which is more than I currently have in my pocket. Sweet child of mine then offered me all the money in her piggy bank. I thanked her, but said it wouldn't be right for me to take her money, and besides, she only has $10. She thought it through, and said "I have some change, too, you know. Maybe that would help."
-We went to the library yesterday. Seeing as how I've packed all our books, and we are a house full of readers, things were getting desperate. Both kids picked some books to check out. Currently, they are snuggled on the couch together, reading about frogs vs. tadpoles. Too cute.
-Uh-oh. The kleenex box is empty. Gotta go.

Boy Terror turns five.

2009-05-09T19:42:00.001-07:00

I'm running late with this post, sorry!
My baby boy turned 5 two weeks ago. FIVE. I think I have to stop telling people I have a baby boy. He can ride a bike (with training wheels), carry on charming conversations, build castles and roads and all sorts of things, he can remember the words to any song, and he can smile right through to my heart. He is truly adorable.
I don't claim to understand boys, but Boy Terror is slowly teaching me their language. I've learned that diggers can distract him from any backseat arguments with his sister. Hugs, snuggles and kisses are fine so long as I don't point out to him what's happening. Already, at the tender age of five, BT has the male ability to smile, nod, look like he is listening, and then when I pause my lecture, to say "Mummy, did you know what Clayton told me? He said a T-rex could swallow a human WHOLE!" as if that was totally my point.
One day last week, when Boy Terror's daycare was closed, I got to spend the day at home with him. This is pretty rare...I often spend the day with Girl Terror, and quite regularly Hubby and BT spend time alone, but Mummy-Son days are limited. That child talked to me all day. He "helped" me rip the baseboards off all the basement walls. He supervised the carpet removal, and he had plenty of opinions when I was pulling all the underlay out. When I fell, and drove a nail through my finger, he very wisely pointed out that it hurt, and I should be more careful. I forgave him for being a pest, though. At the end of the day, as we surveyed the carpet-less basement, he declared me "Bob the Builder", which is a very high honour.
Last week we went to "practice kindergarten" for an evening. Unlike his sister, he made me swear I would not leave his side. Then he promptly ditched me for the blocks corner. I watched him make his way around the room, checking out his future classmates, his serious little face in it's typical scowl. I cannot believe my baby, my little bundle, is ready to start the school journey. He's my baby! He's my last chance at piggy toes, smooshy cheeks, and that warm body curled into mine. He's a school kid. He's five. I have a son, and he's growing up too fast.