We have snow! We have stomach flu! We suck!

Seriously, is this normal. Is this how it's supposed to be when you have four kids. The sloth-like stomach flu that travels through the house at a snails pace until i am ready to burn the place down.

Eliza had the poops like two weeks ago, then toby last week. And toby on saturday with the barfing. Then the washer AND dryer broke on monday. And toby with the barf in bed on monday night. Still no drier. Today parker with the shits and the barfs. The barf ALL OVER ME in the bank. Now THAT is humiliating; what to do? I ran out of the bank and he barfed all over the sidewalk. And then what to do? Leave it... attempt to clean it up with tissues while the barf all over you continues to fall onto the same sidewalk? Grab all four kids AND RUN!

That's what we did. RUN.

But seriously is this my punishment for wanton sex? Sick all the time? Cause if it is - i'm sorry already and that sex drive was laid to rest long ago! Give me healthy kids!

Last weekend when my parents came to visit they stayed in a somewhat fancy hotel in Victoria. They can't stay with me because of the filth.

Anyway, we drove down saturday morning with our four kids plus a friend of Tristan's to visit and torment the hotel staff. After we all went swimming the kids were starving and so we went to the somewhat fancy hotel restaurant that was hoping to trick you into believing it was a fancy restaurant. They were THRILLED to see me, my mom and five filthy kids.

The kids were very well behaved if i do say so. The waiter came to take everyone's orders. He went around the table asking each child. When he got to Parker Parker sat up in the huge chair (no highchairs please we are fancy) and said clear as day "i would like booby."

****my kids nor my house are filthy, they are just kids and a house with four kids and two dogs constantly destroying it. i have to say this because i can't believe how many people actually believe everything i say.

MB had a great post today about small towns and the de-population of them. The fact that young people move away from the village and all the values that were once held there to make a life in cities and suburbs. This move away from small town living has eroded the cultural landscape. In most cities, by way of necessity, people live on their own. Without the familial joys and bonds of the village we live a do or die mentality.

This is nothing new. Living in the city can be alienating and lonely. Especially for mothers. All the baby and mom clubs can't bring about that sense of belonging like a small town can. Sure, there are always exceptions: the great neighbourhoods, the perfect group of friends. But, by and large, if you read blogs by mothers there's a lot of isolation and loneliness.

I am, of course, speaking from experience. And my experience is very skewed by my total phobia of social situations. My desire to have friends; yet, totally unable to make them.

But, i can say that since we moved to the country we have met more like-minded people, made more friends and have a more active social life - both as a family and as grown-ups - than we ever did in the city.

There is something about the total lack of consumer activities (i'm talking about no shopping malls, no pay-to-play activities for kids) that makes you have to go out and find something to do. Go out and meet people. Get involved. Be a part of the community. There is something so secure about knowing almost everyone and them knowing you.

Last thursday there was a large fire on my street. A garage/workshop down the road caught on fire at 11:00 at night. Before the fire trucks arrived every neighbour on the street was out helping. Not watching, helping. Even the volunteer firefighters, long after the trucks had arrived other firefighters kept arriving in their trucks to give a hand. In my experience in the city people don't help. When Eliza was 14 months old she had an anaphylactic allergic reaction. Two ambulances and a firetruck came to our house, sirens and lights on, nobody did anything except peek through their curtains. I know it's not spite, it's fear. I think in a city your actions are guided by fear, whereas in the country - without fear - you can act with your heart.

I know that if one of my kids are sick and i can't make it to the school on time all i have to do is call and someone will take my kids for me. Without hesitation. And, because i know everybody i don't worry about who they are with. I trust that everyone watches out for my children as i do theirs. There are 62 kids in the school and i know every single one of them; most of them have been to my house at some point.

Of course, the biggest problem is employment. Most of the people we know have either filled a small niche: the doctor, veterinarian, dairy farmer, upscale restaurant, carpenter, lawyer, accountant, community newspaper, all the things that are still needed, or they commute to the city. Others, like shane, have a job that they can work from a small office here and travel as necessary.

It's a commitment. Small town living. It takes a while to get used to, not unlike being a responsible consumer - spending a bit more to shop locally. It pays off in the small town landscape that you are perpetuating. I know it's not for everybody. As of November 28th we've been here two years. The first six months were hell. Now, we rarely look back.

I have made a terrible mistake. My dad came to visit this weekend, and as he likes to do we went out shopping together. He likes to buy me things every now and then, it's his way of showing he loves me. Plus, we get some time alone without the kids - a chance to chat.

So, he bought me some new boots which alleviated my guilt about the sexy shoe purchase because what i really needed was new boots. Good. A good thing.

And so we chatted. And because he's my dad and i love him and what i really want is him to be proud of me; i sort of let it slip about my blog. I didn't tell him the name or anything. But, he's a computer whiz. We've had a computer in our house since the first Apple computer came out in 1980 or whatever. Plus, hello Google, you are my enemy.

So, i'm going to hope he doesn't find it. Fat chance. Jenelle did. My ex-boyfriend did. Others have.

I think i am going to assume he never finds it and if he does WE SHALL NEVER TALK ABOUT IT. Especially the waxing stuff. OK dad? I will soldier on.

It's time! Come on, make your canadian friends happy go and vote.

You can vote for Jen or Ada or chair or, of course, me. But, for goodness sake let the mommy bloggers rule!

BEST PERSONAL BLOG CATEGORY

*****Update******Update*******Update

Okay, screw everyone else. Vote for me!!!! Bwah-ha-ha-ha! I want a little gold, silver or bronze Canada flag to put on my blog. Really, i do.

By way of an update please read the brief below:

Parker is asleep. He is asleep and he has only nursed once today. I am giving myself a little time here. 2006. That's my goal. So, i have a few weeks to complete this task. But, i am holding strong, despite waking up with a 24 hour backend flu bug this morning that rendered me unconscious on the couch all day. I think my immune system is still week from the pneumonia and the little bug that Toby had at the beginning of the week spread like wildfire straight to me. Lucky me.
******
What should i be taking to boost my immune system?
*******
The christmas presents have been bought, sort of. Parker is getting an easel, it is only to be used for chalk in the short term as he still draws on everything. I freecycled our old one in the summer. That's okay though because i fancy a new wooden one. I am so over the Little Tykes plastic.

The other kids, in case you want to know are as follows:
Toby - 100 army men, an army castle and Trouble board game
Tristan - Harry Potter Scene It game, Hermione time turner necklace and many books
Eliza - My Little Pony Stuffy, Fur Real Twins, Light Brite

There's other stuff, but that's the gist of it.
*********
The shoes are still in the bag. I showed them to shane and his eyes lit up a bit. But, i am questioning my ability to walk in them. I think they may be returned. Stay tuned.
**********
Happy Turkey Day to all my american friends. Our turkey is due to be put in the freezer next week. Today i watched the PeTa turkey video. My turkey has it REALLY good. He freaks me out though.

Shane once wrote a poem about me that had the line:

she gives me a sore back like a job

Well, tonight parker has given me a sore back. Seriously, i want to tear my brain out and send it out with the recycling. I want to gouge my eyeballs out with my Dr Sears endorsed boppy pillow.

Parker has reached that unfortunate stage of not really needing a nap, but not quite being able to make it through the day without one. Some days, the good days, he doesn't nap and goes to bed and zonks out in seconds at 7pm. Other days, yes like today, he has a nap and then it is my own private hell when i try to put him to bed. TWO HOURS i spent lying beside him. Coaxing him, bribing him with booby, pleading with him, and eventually yelling. I yelled at my perfect little two year old boy. Then i called Tristan, my future mother 8 year old, and she tried. Because she's seen all this before. She feels my pain. Parker wanted nothing to do with his big sister.

Frustration won and i lost my cool. I hate that. Eventually, i stood at the end of the bed and said "GO TO SLEEP! SHUT YOUR EYES!" And exhaustion beat him and he succumbed.

But, you can write this down. Because this time i mean it. Tomorrow he shall say goodbye to the booby. AND he will go to sleep on his own. At least, begin to learn to do that. I will begin 2006 free from breastfeeding and co-sleeping. Mark my words internet. This is it!

I'm kicking myself for wanting to be different when i had my first child and opting into the attachment parenting phenomenon. Not that it's been all bad. I treasure those moments sleeping with my little babies and waking up to their smiling faces beside me. But the lack of sleep. The constant waking. The mommy-brain. I. Can't. Do. It. Anymore.

He did, however, because he's perfect except for the sleep thing, pee on the potty three times today. He kills me with cuteness. As he was "washing the dishes" while i made dinner he declared "OH! I have to go pee.... i've got work to do!" And off he trotted to the bathroom to sit on his little potty seat. (What do you do with that penis when they sit on the seat anyway? I am constantly tucking it down for him. But i don't think i can do that forever. Right? Right!) And then he wiped. A lot. Wiping is the reward when you're a potty training toddler. All that toilet paper! Pure bliss. Piece by piece. At some point i will break the news that boys don't wipe, gross things that they are.

And so you see i just want to love him because he is the cutest thing ever. I don't want to be mad at him every night.

Sorry crazy homeschooling lady that keeps emailing me - Dr Sears and his sidekick wife can still kiss my sleep-deprived ass.

M.A.S.H.

Cause Supa did.

*They all have to be places you've actually been to. Canadian spelling optional.

5 Favourite Cities

1) Vancouver circa 1990's - it was a great place to be and learn, not as trendy as it is now
2) Toronto - shopping, food, culture. so much to love
3) Seattle - like vancouver only better (Target!)
4) Kihei, Maui - what's not to love
5) Lisbon - i was only 12 but the memory lives on, the freckles too.

5 Cities I would live in

1) Toronto - but for the cost of living
2) Vancouver - ditto above. oh, and family way too close
3) Montreal - some of my favourite people
4) Right where i am
5) Summerland, BC - hello, it's called summerland.

5 Least Favorite Cities

1) LA - freak scene
2) Edmonton - but for jenandtonic
3) Surrey BC - you have to live here to know
4) that's it....
5) i've never really been anywhere.

Go ahead, do it! I double dare you. Linky back.

On december 10 the kids school is having a parents christmas party. In the past 9 years i have been out at night, without kids, twice. The first time was the last christmas party and, actually, now that i think about it we took Parker. So, make that once. In the spring we went to a dinner theatre fundraiser put on by the school and stayed out until 1:00 IN THE MORNING.

This year not only am i president of the school, but my fabulous husband's band is playing at the christmas party. I feel the need to look hot. Like the super mom i am.

On the weekend we went to see Derailed. Wait a minute! How do i go to movies if i never go out without kids you ask? Grandma dawn comes and babysits in the afternoon early evening and we go to a matinee and then for a quick bite. So, all is not as pathetic as i lead you to believe.

Anyway, we went to see Derailed which was fine/good. But Jennifer Aniston? She looked great in these really high heel shoes. I want to look JUST LIKE HER.

So, i dragged the kids out today and i bought these shoes. I got home put on my little black pencil skirt, which according to What Not To Wear, never goes out of style and a black silk sleeveless top and, oh yes, the shoes.

Guess what? I did look hot. But then guess what? I could not walk. At all. I have never owned a pair of heels. Ever. I am not jennifer.

Is it possible to learn how to walk in these things? Or should i just satisfy my buyers remorse and return the damn things.

Help the vertically challenged!

I should add that i NEVER (i have never used caps so much before and it's kind of FUN) spend that much money on myself. My back-end is the home of cheap-ass Old Navy clothes. We are borrowing from next years christmas to pay for this years. Plus, i paid full price, that's the second thing i never do. Even at the grocery store.

But the shoes. They are nice. No?

Shane and i tend to act on whims, probably too often. But, we always have faith that things will work out and if they don't, well, change again. We are not static people by nature and change is something we embrace - not fear.

Four years ago we bought Doodle on a whim. She was the cutest darn thing, plus a schnoodle? With a name like that you always have a story to tell. Doodle the schnoodle. We bought her before the incredible rise in popularity of this mixed mutt breed.

Plus, you know, we (I) ONLY had three kids then. So time was something we (I) had plenty of to deal with the puppy peeing and pooping and, my god, they pee and poo a lot. On the carpet. It took us (me) two whole years to finish training her. Then we got new carpets. Twice.

Because last October when we had FOUR kids we got another puppy, Lucy. Lucy the mini schnauzer who we (I) tried a little harder to train and it was better.

And now? Now we have the cutest little friends to keep us company at night because, you know, we never have anybody else climbing all over us all day.

Except Lucy? She has an eating disorder. An eating disorder in that she eats everything she sees. Dog food, kid food, chicken food, diapers, chicken poo, train tracks, puzzles, shoes, my underwear (worn), rocks, chicken legs. Wait! Chicken legs? Yes! and not the kentucky fried kind. Every now and then a raccoon kills one of our chickens and they don't eat legs. Too chewy. But Lucy? Lucy loves the legs. She loves to leave the legs in our shoes. Just now after a Lucy scnufffle which includes her sniffing and licking around your face i discovered another chicken leg in her bed.

Reason enough to love the dogs.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the totally lame and self-indulgent posts i have been making of late. I am in a tailspin of depression and mania. It's weighing heavy on me and rendering me mentally incapable of spewing forth anything.

After weeks of depression i recently found myself happy. Hello happy! At the same time i am always responsible to my number one task which is to be a good mother. The kind of mom that loves her kids to all ends. Even if those ends are constant self-doubt and loathing. You know the drill: am i good enough? Can i really do this? What the hell kind of role model am i? and why are my children so neurotic? and cute? The cuteness, it's suffocating.

The love which keeps you up at night, blood pressure racing with fear. Fear of the inevitable. Children growing and becoming independent and susceptible to the influence of others.

I'm having an inner conflict about the whole honesty in blogging thing. I am constantly shocked and concerned and disgusted by the kind of google searches that land here. I won't go into details because everybody can guess. All i want is to create an open and honest account of snippets of my life. But, it is so hard to do that when the 1% are so filthy, so beyond reproach. I don't know the answer. Not writing is not it, but perhaps, total honesty isn't either.

I'm standing out on the porch wondering what the hell Harry Potter rooster is doing crowing at 9:00 at night when it comes to me:

blogging, drinking, blogging, drinking - goes together like a mom and paxil

Sung, of course, to the tune of the Married with Children theme song. Whatever. It was funny at the time and will totally be stuck in my head for the next few days.

Because, you know, i've been sitting watching Survivor with tristan as shane is at "band practice" and she totally wouldn't drink with me. Damn stubborn kid.

Creepy show, kinda like the bloody show. Bloody show, now there's a phrase i could've lived without ever knowing what it meant. All the doctors and moms who ask you when you are nearing the end of pregnancy "any show?" "any bloody show?" Curses i'm glad to be done with that.

I know that many times i have spoken of wanting more babies. I really thought i did. But, last week when i was at the doctor complaining of fatigue and headaches, general malaise. She said right off; "are you pregnant?"

I just about shit my pants right there.

"But, but i had my tubes tied."

"Well, (gleefull) it happens. Let's do a test."

So, off i marched to pee in a cup with Parker and Eliza watching. "what are you doing mommy?" "are you having a baby mommy?"

and then of course Parker; "I'm not a baby!"

"NO, i am NOT having a BABY."

And so we sat, and waited. It took forever for that lady doc to come back and in the meantime i saw the nurse go into her office, my pee in hand, and have a little chat.

I was freaking out. Really. Freaking. Out. But, you know, keeping it cool for the kids. Playing peek-a-boo and shit. I knew it was possible because shane and i? We are baby-makin super-heroes. We're four for four. Only had sex four times right dad!

So, it took a while. And during those four or five minutes i realized after a jillion thought circles that hey! I am cool with four kids. Four is where it's at. I have totally reconciled that desire for more because while i love babies and all that goes into making babies and making them grow into little people, i'm tired. I am really tired.

Just a sec....

I have said i was tired in 57 posts out of 167.

So, eventually dr lady came back and let me know i am not pregnant, just festering in pneumonia which has cleared up nicely that-you very much.

I am walking on little clouds today. Little chocolate chip cookie clouds.

When in went to collect the mail i found a secret red key.

The red key means packages - which we all know means good stuff! No bills, yippee! So, in the box was a lovely, yummy package of chocolate chip cookies, four lovely homemade christmas ornaments AND two CD's full of Six Feet Under soundtrack goodness. How i love thee Six Feet Under.

But, how i love jen more. Oh, i am in love.

When shane came home i leaped upon him like a sleep-deprived puppy dancing with glee;

"I have a friend, I have a friend!"

"huh?"

"I got presents in the mail and you didn't!"

"nice, real mature jess."

It was awesome.

Today was a great day. Eliza had her "parents day" at ballet. I took, no lie, 200 photos. I will upload to Flickr later. I have a board meeting now - yuck.

I need help. I have no idea what to get Parker, who just turned two, for christmas? I have at least 300 hot wheels cars in my house, my yard, my car, my soul. Plus, the trucks - we have lots of trucks. Please help me women (and 2 men) of the internet.

Toby, on the other hand, is very specific:

Toby's Wish List

* rock tumbler
* dirt bike (as if)
* 100 standing army men (different colours)
* 100 tanks and army cars
* army fort
* star wars stuff
* 100 balls of wool

This is the kids chicken, not sure if it's a hen or rooster, and his name is Dumbledore. Dumbledore has so many feathers on his feet and legs that he can't move very fast. Add to that the feathers in his eyes and, well, he IS a chicken.

Today the cows from next door wandered into our yard. We always love to see them. There's one mother and when she has a calf they get three more for her to feed. It's always odd to see a cow in the forest.

I've been thinking about this mother at the school, Janet (her real name as i don't protect the innocent). I've gotten to know her over the past few months as her daughter is in ballet with Eliza and i pick her up from kindergarten on ballet day for a little pre-dance playdate. Anyway, Janet, she's an artist. She always thanks me profusely for taking her daughter so that she can have more time in her "studio". I've been a little suspicious about the whole artist thing and asked to see her work last time i was at her house. It's nice, good actually. I can picture it in the houses of people i know.

And yet, i don't buy it. The whole artist thing. She is so completely normal. She's happy to drive her minivan, go to yoga once a week, have pleasant dinner parties, keep a clean house, a beautiful garden - she even brings slippers when she goes to other people's houses because her feet get cold. She finds her daughters challenging and time-consuming. I don't know, there's no fire. Where's the depression, the drinking, the fucking torture?

One time she came to our house for a little party. I decided on a whim to have all the parents over for a party after the school fair last may. Earlier in the week shane had bought me a huge purple vibrator, kind of as a joke and kind of hopefully. Anyway, i had tossed it in the junk drawer in the kitchen and forgotten about it. When those moms came over they descended on my kitchen like a flock of chickens to scratch. A whirlwind of pots and pans and chopping knives and VOILA dinner for 30. I realized after they had left that the purple jelly machine had been in plain view to anybody that had opened that drawer and i knew that janet had. Not a word. Ever. But, after that i became a little more popular at the school.

What do dildos and wannabe artists have in common? Fuck if i know. Except that i think that people feel a little 'cool by proxy' when they hang out with me because i am a total sex machine. I kill myself. I am sitting here laughing my ass off at the nonsense that spews forth from me. I should add that cool is very relative when you live in a community of a couple thousand.

Eliza has mastered the look that embraces the way i feel.

We came home early (yesterday) due to Eliza's explosive belly. My parents, who live in fear of the flu, had my bags packed and in the car within minutes of the vomitus eruptis. All mission plans were aborted and i am still sleep-deprived and parker is still the booby man.

I am, however, feeling better.

So, i'm feeling a little better. Thanks to some antibiotic intervention. I am sure that will pass after the four hour trip to my parents house this evening. As i am a sucker for punishment i will be loading the kids onto the 7pm ferry, arriving at my destination well past the recommended bedtime hour. This will assure that any progress i've made in the rest department will be null and void.

But sleep, beautiful sleep i can hear your siren call on the horizon. I have been speaking with Parker, in as much as you can speak to a two year old, about his near-future weaning. He refuses to reason with me. What's that all about? I am trying to be patient but, why oh why are two year olds so unreasonable? Right. He's two and practically still a baby. Not that i am talking myself out of this - i would never do that! At least not more than ten or twenty times.

And for those of you that have been following along - the itch? It does go away! If you are diligent and shave almost every day. Oh yeah, i have time to do that. What with Parker and Eliza standing in the shower with me every morning. And eight year olds? They notice that kind of thing, so have your reason ready. Also, now i'm too shy to go for my girly Dr. visit and stopping shaving? That causes the itch to return.

There you go weaning and cootchie shaving all in one post; now that's a good day.

So it seems that if you are sick for five weeks with a few days of grace in between you should probably drag your ass to the doctor. But, if your me you'll just wait because, heck, google is just as good as a doctor, right?

Turns out the answer to that one is n-o. Today i was informed that, perhaps, i'm not wallowing in despair and misery requiring large doses of wellbutrin. Instead i am festering and stupid. Pneumonia has been kicking me in the ass and making me feel like a rejected pile of poop.

But, hello antibiotics you will save my life. Plus a healthy dose of Tylenol 3's for the headaches that make me want to sit in the closet and weep while my children continue their crusade to find me* - "the best hider in all of hide and seek land!"

In Parker news this weekend is it. IT i tell you. The day has come that he shall be weaned. I'm heading to vancouver and my unsuspecting parents where i intend to let him scream and yell and hissy fit to his hearts content - all night long. Then i will sleep all day whilst my poor mother looks after my lovely children.

Pneumonia has sort of suggested to me, strongly, that i need to sleep - a lot.

Thank-you

* i only do that on days when it rains for more than 6 hours.

Thank-you to whoever nominated me! Now let's vote!

Holy shit it's raining! I mean great floods of water are pouring down, never ending, for days on end. It is making the children crazy. CRAZY. They spent the day running around the house SCREAMING and to top it all off they weren't even tired when bedtime came around. They weren't tired, but i was exhausted.

I stayed up until the very wee hours drooling over my blog and trying to figure it all out.

Now though, now i have to tell you how much i still love marybeth . What you don't understand is how incredibly wishy-washy i am. She took my pathetic laments of;

"Wah, i don't know what i want, cough sniffle, why doesn't anyone understand me? It has to be cool, you know punk'd out! I don't know, i like green. Poor me, tortured mother. Blugh."

From that she gave me this beautiful blog. She really did understand me after all. So, from now on that's how i'm gonna talk to everyone!

But, with more cowbell

So, here i am. And i am in love.

I am in love with mb or supamb or just supa. Whatever you want to call her she is my new love interest. Why? Why, because she did all this for me in less than a week, in less than a work week!

We are not done, but we are done enough to start. A fresh start and fun times. I have a head filled with rubber cement as i am still flu-like and snot-like.

But, i will be back... fresh as new real soon! In the meantime, comments people!

I'm sick, i'm sick, i'm sick again! I was just sick last week and now i'm sick again. I secretly think that sweetney made me sick by sending her germs along with the most excellent mixed cd that has ever graced my stereo. I kid you not. Go ask her for one, you'll be happy you did.

Last night i went to bed at 8:00. Today i am crazy busy driving on a field trip and all the other mom-bligations.

The day after halloween should be a holiday. A holiday for parents. A day where somebody gathers up all the sugar hungover, sleep deprived children and whisks them away so that parents can, at least, have that.

Have that day as a reward for dealing with the costumes and the make-up and the anticipation and excitement - because mark my words that is a small hell of it's own.

Today though, the day after halloween sucks. They are still riding that sugar high and don't tell me about limiting the intake of candy because normal parents - we don't do that. We believe in self-torture. We let the kids eat that damn candy. As much as they want! Don't you judge me you internet! You come on over here and see how you manage the 2,4,6,8's of my house. And, yes, i figured out how it happens and, yes, we've dealt with that and, no, i'm not having anymore and, yes, you can call me a breeder; actually, that's MRS BREEDER to you!

I should speak in ALL CAPS here because apparently in my house YELLING is the language of choice. ALL YELLING ALL THE TIME. That's what my children think.

So tonight when Shane came home complaining of his "long day at work" (alone) and his "hours in the car" (alone) and "his horrible flight to vancouver and back" (alone) i mixed a little, just a little, dog food into his dinner.

Tristan and the magic of the port-a-potty

Toby who insisted he was Drabula

Eliza is sooo tired

and poor Parker with fever

We had a joyous evening of trick'r treatin. As a bonus when we moved here we happened to move into a neighbourhood where everybody goes full throttle into halloween. Although all the houses are on two acre parcels we live on a loop that is about two kilometers around. It's the perfect poop you out trick'r treat romp. Probably 20 houses. Each house handing over oodles of treats and in some cases cans of pop? and full size chocolate bars. Thank-you wealthy country retirees.

Parker is getting sick and sat the whole time in the stroller, cozy in his pumpkin costume eating lollipops. Eliza,as the angel, made it the whole way without a complaint. Toby (dracula) and his friends Nicky and Roman, characters from the Matrix complete with shaved heads!, yelled out "awesome" and "double awesome" every time they saw a firework. And Tristan the Port-a-potty! Let me tell you that girl can rock out the cardboard box costume. She collected more candy than anyone as she was (a) so original, (b) she ducked down in the box at every door step and when they answered popped her head out yelling "trick or stink!", and (c) well she's Tristan and beautiful and cute and funny even dressed up as a toilet.

Photos coming later today. I was a little remiss in the taking of photos as the day was such a huge mess of business, but hopefully, i got a few decent ones.

When we got home i got Parker into bed and lay down beside him and he said "really need booby."