I am feeling nostalgic, reminiscent. Partly because of a reconnection to an old friend. Making me think of my life so far. The choices you make, opening and closing doors. Having children takes you on such a mind-blowing life path. A path that i love and adore, yet, i can't help but wonder what would have happened if i'd taken different steps, made different choices.

Shane and i often like to reminisce about the days before kids. How life was so easy, so self-involved. The long breakfasts over newspapers. A bed to ourselves! Time to enjoy each others company. We miss that. Each other.

We look at our friends who chose not to have kids, or didn't, or couldn't and feel jealous and sorry for them at the same time. The focus on the perfect house, life, career. We focus on keeping the chaos to a minimum and hoping that we all have clean underwear in the morning and keeping the kids bathed at least weekly! (Thank you swim lessons for completing that task for me!) Struggling with the monumental grocery bills - comparing how much we spend with other families of the same size. $1000 a month thank-you very much.

Also, the rain. Torrential rain for days, weeks on end. Moving 30 kilometers and enormous changes in weather. We didn't plan for that. But, the rain reminds me of Vancouver; my childhood and youth there. The rain comforts me that way. Makes me feel like i'm back home.

That and halloween costumes covered with raincoats.

Happy trick or treatin!

Wow. An interesting day. I remember reading once about anonymous versus public blogs. If you don't want people from your past to find you, don't do it. Well, i thought that didn't apply to me and i was wondering if anybody even cared about me. Today, i found out as my one and only ex-boyfriend found me.

It was kind of nice to know that someone actually gave a rat's ass what had happened to me. I just don't want my family here because that would be weird.

***

Tonight we went to a halloween party. It was nice and fun and total hell for me. I suppose for one because Parker was totally freaked out by the costumes and scary decorations and as such he wouldn't leave my lap. More specifically my ass seated on a chair in front of a big bowl of Doritos. On the way home i decided that i am totally suffering from social anxiety. Have been my whole life. I completely clam up and to be honest i jumped at the chance to go home. I'm okay with a few people at our house and i'm totally okay with board meetings. Anything else and i very nearly poop my pants or at the very least come home and spend a while on the pot.

Gross. Way too much information. I'll try again tomorrow.

Kim asked me what attracted me to attachment parenting to begin with. I wish i had a well-thought out answer. Something that began with: well during my first pregnancy i spent many hours researching styles of parenting... . But, it doesn't. Attachment parenting was recommended by the women on a parenting list i belonged to, a list full of some of the most intelligent and articulate women i have ever met. The methodology just felt right to me. Sleep with the baby? Sounds good. Wear the baby in a sling or carrier? Even better. I loved my baby bjorn.

When Tristan was born it all just came together because, to be honest, i was head over heels in love. I couldn't bear to be apart from her, or to even let anybody else hold her (much to my mother-in-laws dismay and ongoing disapproval).

Actually, at the time i really didn't get much support as it all just seemed a little weird to my parents, my husbands parents and pretty much every lay person who felt qualified to comment on my life. If i was to be honest it was great when i had only one and worked well with two. But! But, four kids? I just need some sleep. I need to step up to the plate and learn to be a little tougher. Parker is two years old now. He's not a baby anymore and can definitely sleep a little longer. Tonight i put him to bed at 7:30, it's 9:30 now and he has woken 3! times already. This is normal, for me, but not for most parents.

Attachment parenting is not this. You've got to suffer from pretty high self-esteem to want to start a new ritual based on something so icky.

So my friend over at lifehacker has written an article that says what we all already know. Chocolate rules, boxes of raisins are punishment. Seriously, if any of you hand out raisins, sesame snaps, apples or figs (seriously) you are totally dead to me and i may send my children to your house to punch you in the kneecaps.

Although my youngest daughter, Eliza, is allergic to peanuts and treenuts we still hold true to the chocolate rules rule. A few weeks before halloween i order unreasonably large amounts of chocolate from vermont nut-free chocolates. After as much candy as possible is collected we trade Eliza her stash for our stash. Win-win. We get treats for weeks and she gets something special.

meeting tonight. finance meeting. my brain hurts.

So, Dr. Sears and your sidekick wife i hate you. I hate all the years of sleep you have stolen from me. I want them back. That's right Dr. i want a refund because you lied to me. You told me my children would sleep better if they slept with me. That they would be confident and happy. That they would transition to new things easily; feeling secure in my attachment to them.

Let's check in here on my attachment parenting success:

kids that have gone to preschool - 0
kids that have dropped out of preschool after a few classes because of severe separation anxiety - 3
kids who regularly sleep through the night - 1
kids who wake me up at least once a night - 3
kids who wake me up 5 or more times a night - 1
kids who can't spend an hour with anybody but family - 2
years mother has been sleep-deprived - 8
years mother has nursed babies to sleep - 8
years mother has had to lay down for at least 1/2 an hour with a child to get them to sleep - 8
years mother has been stressed - 8

Dr. Sears can kiss my sagging sleep-deprived ass.

Okay, i guess i need to be more CLEAR... Please look here. Here you will find a new template for my blog that i paid somebody to do and it took them, like, 4 months. And it doesn't dazzle as i had hoped and now i am pissed. Plus, i don't even know how the hell to get in there as SHE won't return my emails and let me know the passwords and all the shit.

Leave comments in this here space y'all.

Also, i'm feeling needy so check out my new photos on flickr and comment on those too.

Here's a tease of my super-model daughter, she takes my breath away.

My mood is so crazy lately. Up, down, UP, DOWN, down, up. Now, before you say anything yes, i have tried medications. Hate them! With a passion.

Right now i am like matte paint, dull and lacklustre and easily stained. The energy i had last week to be the super-parent has been drained. Now, i dread another puppet show or day of finger-painting. Part of the problem is sex - or lack there of. More appropriately intimacy. We have been so wrapped up in the business of our lives and the whirlwind of kids and playdates and pottery, choir, swimming, ballet, piano, skating, music class - phew! that we have lost sight of each other; shane and i. We are, literally, strangers in the night. Not helping matters is the season of the cold and flu - me then him then me (with a cold sore too - woohoo).

I think i forget how much i need that intimacy, long nights of chatter and catching up. Getting in synch with each other. Calming the up downs. Calming ME down.

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In the meantime COMMENTS - please.

I have been remiss in posting as of late. Sorry about that. I will return to my normal schedule tomorrow.

I was getting a lot of google hits for "drowning your kids" because of that tragedy in California and it was too depressing for me. I am tender-hearted like my children and these things affect me deeply. I needed to distance myself.

See you later alligator.

Lately things have been going very well. Freakishly well. I went through a hard time over the summer. Sad and lonely is really nothing new among the mommy set. That doesn't make it any easier when you're going through it.

Now though, now i'm happy. I've hit one of those mom-strides. Play-doh, park, hide and seek - hurray! Perhaps, part of it is that lots of other mothers in British Columbia are suffering through a teachers strike. No school = no fun. I see that connection to my unhappiness in the summer. It's hard to keep school aged children entertained all the time and it's hard to justify putting them in summer camps and activities when you're a stay-at-home. I have the luxury of having my children in a private school. No strike here. I feel guilty as we drive by the picket lines and we wave sheepishly as we are on our way to school.

As i digress... I'm happy. Parker is so darn cute right now - Eliza too. It's easy to have fun when your subjects are just happy to be in your presence. I wish i could document every moment and minutiae of our day for memory so that one day when i'm old i can relive these precious moments.

I'm trying to potty train Parker and not really having much success, but it's totally okay because the process is so endearing. When i ask him if he has to use his potty he shakes his head vehemently; "no, no pee." And then promptly pees his pants.

Okay, it doesn't sound that cute. Believe me though it is when you're in love.

And Eliza she is stepping out of her shell in small and miraculous ways. She has until recently been attached to me like velcro, but recently took a risk by taking ballet. She loves it and for the first time in her small life she is independent of any family for 45 minutes every tuesday. Small steps. She spends all week unpacking and packing her ballet clothes, getting ready, taking pride in her newly found independence. We even have a little friend of hers over for a weekly playdate. Soon, she says, she might be ready to go to someone else's house solo.

Love i tell you, it's a beautiful thing.

This morning i went to the school to do primary cooking. The order of the day? Pumpkin muffins. Four children (+parker and eliza) two mommies = no problem? WRONG.

Some brilliant mom thought that we would use a scale this year instead of measuring cups - because that is SO practical. I always measure flour in marble weights in my house. I'm sure that in the Martha Stewart test kitchen EVERYBODY knows how much 8 barnyard animals worth of pumpkin is.

The recipe went like this:

22 marbles flour
15 wooden blocks brown sugar
3 crayons baking powder

you get the idea.

The mother in charge is a little - eager. Her first child in school, everything in cute little fonts, personalized aprons! Egads. And me, tired, cranky and just wanting to do a little simple baking.

A couple! hours later we had 12 beautiful pumpkin muffins and 4 kids who had missed the whole morning of school to make 30 minute muffins.

Today is my birthday. I am nearing middle age. When will i start to feel different, more mature? When will i understand and accept all the little nuances that make the world so fucking excellent and hard at the same time?

Last night we had 6 adults and 5 children over for dinner. That would make 8 adults and 9 children in total. I fed them all, socialized and did quite well with very little anxiety. I was very proud of myself. Except that when everyone left i realized i was drunky drunk drunk. The evening was the first meeting of the dad band. Shane is starting a band in his endeavor to complete our new "more fun" lifestyle credo. They are planning on playing 10 songs at the christmas party; including U2 New Years Day, REM One Love, Ramones I want to be Sedated and Hank Williams Nobody's Lonesome For Me.

Today, breakfast in bed. Leisure. Naps. And Wallace and Gromit.

xxoo

Can it really be? Summer's over, Fall is here. When i wake up it's still dark out and when we sit down to dinner it's dark out. Soon daylight savings and then those dreary days of going to work or school in the dark and coming home in the dark.

Last fall i almost hit a cow on a foggy dark evening. I was telling some friends the story today - foggy night, dark out, 3 cows on the road that appeared out of nowhere in a fog bank - and they said "only you jess, that could only happen to you!"

What does that mean? My life is a series of hilarious anecdotes. Weird things apply here.

Eliza has recently started wiping her own bum. We felt it was a quality control issue and chose to wipe her bum for her probably a little longer than most parents do. But, to be honest we were just so happy to have our children pooping on the toilet that wipin their little asses was a sacrifice we were willing to make.

When Tristan was just under two i did as most first-time mothers do; i read the books and discovered it was potty training time. I bought the books, the videos (i would rather punch myself in the face over and over infinity than listen to that potty song again) the cute little potty seats and the big girl undies. We worked on it for a week and holy shit she did it! She peed on the potty all the time, loved her pink blues clues undies and wore her pull-up at night. It took me awhile because at this time i also had a newborn Toby; but, eventually i figured out that she was pooping in her pull-up at night before she went to sleep. I sort of (totally) let it slide. When she was around 3 1/2 we tried to deal with it (totally didn't). Sometime in her fourth year, when i also had 2 year old Toby potty training and newborn Eliza, i realized kindergarten was looming and the poop thing had to be fixed. By this time we had regressed to her asking for a diaper when she had to go, she even offered to buy them herself when i tried to bribe her. I started giving her a laxative, senokot, in her drinks and refusing to let her have a diaper. She would literally go days and days without going poop. Eventually, the laxative beat her and she had one tremendous poop in the toilet. I think it was a religious experience for her judging from the screams and crying and begging for mercy that preceded the gigantic bowel movement.

So, we wiped Eliza and Toby's asses for a little longer than normal.

Last night Shane and i were sitting on the couch watching tv and Eliza came down fro upstairs, naked. She had been in bed. She swaggered in, turned around and waved her little butt around and said "hi dad".
"hi Eliza."
"i went poo and wiped my own bum without even calling you."
"great job Eliza."
me: "uh Shane, look?"

She had little smears of shit all up her back. You see? It's a quality control issue.

So, i managed to get some photos up on flickr. Click on the photo to see them.

Halloween has begun, pumpkin lights went up...when did halloween become so intense? When i was little it was make your own costume and use your pillow case as a sack.

Today though Tristan restored my faith when she came home after her piano lesson and declared "I don't want to be Hermione for halloween, i want to be a port-a-potty!"

We are home, stuffed and sloth like. Ah sweet, sweet sleep i hear you calling.

First happy thanksgiving. I am thankful for family and other people cooking. Oh yes, and of course, the life we enjoy.

Anyway, the whole trip revolved around the pies. Starting early this morning as we loaded into the van; "the pies, the pies... don't forget the pies!" We slid the pies in between the driver and passenger seat and every time Shane turned a corner to fast or stopped too abruptly "the pies, the pies!"

As we loaded onto the ferry we decided that Shane would stay in the car so that Lucy the grand mooch hound of dogs couldn't get her mugs on it. Last week she ate six croissants while i was in the car with her. As i was getting out of the car with the kids she eagerly jumped into the front and sank her paw deep into the pumpkin pie - "Oh my god! The pies, the pies!" The damage was definite, but not total destruction. That pie could still be eaten.

We arrived safely at grandma and grandpa's and managed to get the pies inside - "don't forget the pies!" - and onto the counter in preparation for the turkey feast. The day was spent lounging, napping, eating, and a little bit of playing in the rain - ah Fall on the west coast.

After dinner the kids surprised me with an early birthday cake and some cards and an apron they made for me!

Nice.

Then home again, home again. We loaded up the kids, some leftover turkey and yes, 1/2 a berry pie and 1/2 a handmade by my children chocolate cake. At the ferry we placed "the pie, the cake!" on the windshield and wandered along the docks as we waited for the ferry. Lucy ate "the pie

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The computer is very broken. There is the threat of the loss of my entire iphoto librabry. I will not even think about that. I have 119 very nice photos and my ibook crashes every time i try to upload them, even one measly photo onto this blog. Fucker.

As we prepare for the giant turkey dinner tomorrow, it's thanksgiving here y'all, we are enjoying some yummy scottish cream ale whilst baking many pies and making some cranberry sauce.

THAT is aboot as crafty as i get. A little baking, a little cooking. I actually consider myself a damn good cook. But all of you crafty ladies out there with yer stuffies, softies, scrapbooks, aprons, quilts, cards you blow my mind. How do you fit it all in? Really, i am envious. My lame-ass is decidedly un-crafty.

Tristan and Toby went off to Saltspring this morning and we will meet them there tomorrow for the feast. Shane and i enjoyed our ritual, pretend we only have two children, dinner out. Inevitably when we go out without the whole posse we get some well meaning parent or grandparent coming up to us to offer some advice. Usually, we just go along with them. Tonight, some elderly couple next to us at the restaurant commented on how well-behaved our children were. They went on to tell us how last time they were here (at this restaurant) a large family sat down beside them and they had absolutely no control over their children. "Ah, yes" we said in unison. We laughed a little with the couple at those primal kids, those children without boundaries and consequences and "ha, oh yes why have so many kids if you can't control them?!" "Ho ho ha ha!!" "Oh yes our children are very well behaved, they understand the consequences of bad behavior. Oh yes, corporal punishment is an underrated form of discipline."

We, of course, realized that it very well could have been our family they sat beside last time. As we left the couple waved at us and shane saluted them as he bent over and asked parker to pull his finger.

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My big computer, the one i download photos on to has been broken for a week, but tomorrow it will be fixed and soon after the 300 photo onslaught will begin. Prepare yourself.

I had a really bad day.

This afternoon the kids and i were going to the school to unlock the gates for some landscape stuff to be dropped off. We turned off of our road onto lovers lane (no lie). I saw something dart under the car on the passenger side and as i looked in the rearview mirror i saw that it was a cat running away and i could tell that it was hurt. I turned the car around and pulled into the nearest driveway. A man was working in the garage and i asked him if he had a grey cat. He knew right away. We went to look for the cat while the kids sat in the car. I found the cat right at the side of the road. I called the man and he ran over and scooped her up.

She was dead.

He started to cry a little and i apologized, a lot. I didn't know what to do. So, i left.

The kids were really upset and so was i.

I have had so many pets die by getting hit by cars. It's really awful. When shane and i were on our honeymoon our cat, spalding, got hit by a car. It really sucked.

I feel so bad for those people. I am so sorry for what i did. I couldn't help it.

The kids want to make them a card. Would that be inappropriate?

Not meaning to feel sorry for myself, but, BUT, Parker is sick. Again.

He's been running a high fever for the past three days and up all night for the past two. I am a gurgling mess of pudding. Literally, i am leaving slug trails of drool behind me. i am so tired it's funny. No really funny. I'm drunk on it and have the giggles. Plus, i'm freezing.

Last night when Parker had been up for hours begging "please, please, please mom. more booby." I decided to try and get him to take some medicine. He's a tough kid because he has this super-hero strong gag reflex. When we went to the school campout he literally vomited every time we walked by the outhouses. He also gags and throws up when i change his diaper. Funny guy! Not really.

So, last night i am trying to reason with my feverish two year old;
me: "come on Parker take the medicine."
him: "hate medicine!"
me: "If you don't we'll have to do the up the bum medicine."
him: "hate THAT medicine!"
me: "i know. Come on baby mommy is sooo tired. Please."
him: "hate medicine."
me: "OK. Booby then?"
him: "Hate Booby!"

Oh how i wish i could've held him to that.

This morning we went out to get some new medicine to try and while at the store we picked him up a little pair of mitts. Weird kid he that he is, he loves them. No hate there. He's sleeping with them on right now.

in lieu of anything worthy i am swiping (swiper no swiping) a hilarious meme from sweetney.

Google �[your name] needs� and see what comes up.

jess needs to depend on the current
jess needs a bath. I want to high five Jess. If I could describe Jess in a word: witty.
Jess needs to be picked up by a parent or guardian.
Jess needs an extra zipper.
Jess needs a home whereby she will be the only pet as she deserves 100% attention.
Jess needs a bed, not a raft.
Jess needs time to herself.
Jess needs a new focus.

ahem, amen.

I admit it, i've been boring lately. B-O-R-I-N-G. Boring, lazy-assed bad mother. I can't get my energy up to do much of anything. Because, yes, i am so darn tired. I have not weaned my 2 year old son. How did i become a mother who nurses a two year old? How did that happen. I am most thankful that it doesn't happen in public because, quite frankly, that would be embarrassing and even i would have to point at myself and snigger.

It's time that i was honest with myself. My name is Jess and i am not the mother of a baby. My son is two years old. He CAN sleep without me and he CAN sleep for more than ONE hour at a time. My name is Jess and i am addicted to sleep-deprivation.

I know that the answer to this time-old problem is to go cold turkey. "No BOOBY!" But, well, wimp. Plus, the ladies - they don't want to get engorged and i am prone to mastitis and, well, excuses i tell you. I am all about excuses.

Perhaps if I exercised i would be less tired. And went to bed early. And didn't drink wine. And didn't service the hubs. And, and, and.

See, i just came up with a lot of excuses.

I am sorry internets that i have been such a lame-ass. I am suffering post-baby-newly-toddlered-posttubestied - stress disorder. There has got to be a medication for this.

jess

Yesterday the kids had some friends over after our first weekly all school skate. They disappeared quietly upstairs for an entire hour. Now i know, as most mothers do, that when all is quiet something b-a-d is happening. Now, i'm all about quiet time, leave me alone time, but i also know that when the young guns are quiet for too long either they are sneak watching tv or they are making an incredible mess.

The mystery revealed itself to be a mess of the face painting variety. All of them marched downstairs to show off their 'work'. Eliza had a half spiderman, half hulk face, Tristan was something very scary with lots of black, red and blue that would prove impossible to was off (this also means she went to school this morning looking like she went ten rounds yesterday) and Parker came down with red dots all over his face. Toby being my little sensory guy had nothing.

Before bed i managed to wash off as much as possible.

In the middle of the night Parker was being extra-fussy. He was tossing and turning and whining the whine that sends a mother over the edge. I turned on the bathroom light so that i could get a look at him without completely waking him up. Spots! My precious, annoying, baby had spots all over him! In a panic i woke up Shane and, of course, Parker at which point i realized those spots were not the pox of death, but face paint.

As we were all awake we laughed and laughed and then i cried a little and painted black spots on my husband when he began snoring 10 seconds later.

I went for a whirlwind trip to Vancouver this weekend. It's really not that far in distance to my folks house, but, as i live on an island there is that pesky ferry ride in the middle.

The trip went well. My brother's speech at his church was heartfelt and tear-inducing. I realized once i got there just how hesitant and angry i have been with my brother. It's been very hard to be supportive of him through this alcoholism thing. It really is a family affair. Once i saw him though it was clear how very much i love him and how i am going to miss him incredibly when he moves to sweden. He looks great and he is a wonderful man. Church, however, makes me very uncomfortable. I think i feel the people are nice only with an expectation.

My dad was true to form. Although i only had Parker with me my dad burnt out on the visit thing after about three minutes. On saturday morning at 9:30 he sent me out the door very unceremoniously - even though church didn't start until 10:30.

When we came home he visited for a few minutes, slipped me $100 (his way of showing he cares) and sent us off to the ferry. Parker and i enjoyed our ride on the Queen of Coquitlam and drove back through torrential rain to a messy house and a haggard looking husband and three messy kids.

Home, really is where the cleaning is.