One of the reasons that shane wanted a cat was because of our country size mouse problem. We were worried about poisoning them because of the dogs, yet the traps made our feeble city hearts shudder.

All of our pets have a job. Doodle puts the kids to bed, in that she sleeps upstairs with them, hopping from bed to bed, until they are all asleep. Then she comes down for some grown-up belly rubs and snuggles. Lucy eats every single crumb or spittle of drool that falls from our children's mouths. And marmalade? He must kill mice.

About a month ago we cheered and high fived as we walked out the door on the way to school/work and found a dead mouse at the door. But? Nothing since.

Then today i heard the shriek of a girly-man as shane opened a seldom used closet door and found the lifeless bodies of several mice that marmalade had obviously killed and lost in kitty style hardwood floor hockey to the recesses of the closet door.

You know that cliche of the person who gets drunk at the office party and ends up dancing on the table?

That's me!

Two years in a row i have been the drunkest person, by far, at our school parent and staff christmas party.

I managed to hold out until after i made a speech and handed out gifts and christmas bonuses, but then! It was drunk jess. All drunk, all the time.

I wore my extra high heels again and a beautiful dress. I danced, i had fun. I made out with another mom as my special talent so that i could steal her gift. All kinds of laughter and jokes ensued. At the end of the night i leaned against other board members to hold me up. They passed me around like a paper doll.

Then shane carried me home.

Shane's band played. See.

That's him thinking "who the hell is she dancing with now?"

I am preparing myself for merciless teasing in the morning. But, it was fun.

And we have a christmas tree.

Here's me, hungover, in my extra special custom t-shirt from debbie. I love debbie.

As it turns out my life is just as hectic as ever. Funny that. Four kids.

Tomorrow is toby's birthday. Gifts are bought. I took your advice and went for the most toys i could get for $100, which turns out to be quite a lot. I like to have four gifts. One from mom and dad, and one from each sibling.

Summer still eludes us, as does spring. I try to convince myself that this has nothing to do with global warming.

My life seems to be on a string of bad luck, hopefully happening only in threes.

Over the winter i ran over a cat and killed it which was a very bad day for me. Then i hit a squirrel and the other day i ran over a snake. I'm hoping i'm done with that now, although i still use extra caution with all the chickens running loose in my driveway ( i asked shane a few months ago to fix the chicken run so they couldn't get out and eat all my plants and poop on our deck. He removed half the fencing to fix it and it it has sat that way for two months.)

Over christmas the washer broke and then the dryer a few days later. We used some credit to buy new ones. A couple months ago the dishwasher broke and we have been washing by hand ever since (my poor hands.) Last week our barbeque caught on fire and melted out the bottom (luckily the fire stopped before the tank blew out.) I'm hoping we're done with the appliance threesome curse.

We started out the school year with a miserable toby which morphed into the tantrum-y parker and sprung in spring to the defiant eliza. I fear that moody tristan is next.

Life is less than boring, but exhausting. Every afternoon i picture myself passing out in the schoolyard. Face down. Either sleeping or crying.

In the meantime please excuse my inability to write a legible sentence or sleep more than five hours in a night. I have made up for it by feeding my inner clothes horse and have purchase more new clothes than i've had in the last ten years combined. I have become one of those wives:

"is that new?"

"this?! NOOOOO. I've had it for ages."

Last in this series. I promise. With the school year wrapping up and shane in his busiest season at work things have been crazy. Did i tell you he's off to VEGAS on the weekend? Well, he is. For five days.

So, husband battles.

• in a pinch olive oil will work as a lubricant.
• in a pinch oil of oregano works wonders on cold sores, but burns like shit.
• in a pinch don't mistake the oil of oregano for olive oil.
• if, while playing softball you rip your pants, it's better to let your husband have his fun and rip them off you rather than trying in vain to save your favourite pair of pants.

The battlefield.

I would say the biggest battle in our house involves the toilet. The toilet and the flushing of the big jobs.

I have warned toby on many occasions that if i find another big job in the toilet "i will give you a swirly while i flush it."

Second biggest battle? Ignoring the rolling of the eyes at everything i say. Eliza is the newest convert to the blatant disregard of my authority.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

Eyes rolling.

"Did you feed the chicks?"

Eyes rolling.

"Did you remember to put underwear on under your skirt?"

Eyes rolling.

"Did you lock doodle in the closet?"

Eyes rolling.

A battlefield i tell you.

When you parent a large family you need to pick your battles otherwise your brain may implode.

The biggest battle in our house is getting the kids out the door on school mornings. We have been late way more times than we should have. Usually it's tristan who slows down the whole process. She is easily distracted, especially by her own beauty.

She will often try to sneak out the door with her hair tangly and her teeth not cleaned. As she runs back upstairs to do it she will often be up there five minutes or more before i yell at her to hurry. She hasn't done anything except stare into the mirror. Once she catches sight of her beauty she is lost.

Also? Nose picking. I can't get toby to stop, so i've given up - for now. I do insist, however, that he not wipe the boogers on the wall, the furniture, under the table or flick them in the general direction of the dogs.

Apparently we are ALL grumpy and, mostly, it's our spouses making us that way.

I couldn't sleep last night because i kept thinking of things to add to my grumpy list. Funny thing though, once i wrote out my list, had a couple glasses of Yellow Tail, watched the Lost finale and giggled with shane a little about the first comments i got from other grumpies, i felt pretty much all better.

That's the magic of this whole blogging thing for me. I write down what i'm feeling - happy, sad, mad, depressed, lonely or whatever - i write about it and get some kind and wonderful feedback and my problem feels much less like a problem and more like a shared experience.

The girls have been busily helping me bake and bake some more for the school fair this weekend, Children and Apple Pie.

Eight pies are sitting on my counter in preparation for baking. Also, rice krispie squares, sugar cookies for decorating and chocolate chip shortbread squares. Unfortunately, all these recipes only used two eggs and with my chickens producing ten or twelve eggs a day i am officially up to my eyeballs in green eggs. Want some?

I am preparing for birthday party number two in a series of three. I set expectations way too high when i went all out on a harry potter party for tristan last year. She invited her whole class. When they arrived i sorted them (with a sorting hat) into houses, then they decorated wands, guessed how many bertie botts every flavour beans were in a jar, had a find the snitch treasure hunt, broomstick races and a few others. Teams earned points for their houses. It was totally fun and i was proud of my efforts, but this year i am way too tired and busy to come up with anything half as good, so i am putting the pressure on for a little sleepover action. We'll see.

Toby, who's third in the series, wants a party at the playground at school and a thousand army men to play with. Sounds good to me.

I actually used my widget calculator and i have been a parent for 3270 days!

You would think i'd learned a thing or two in that time. Not really.

Today eliza, parker and i were driving along and eliza was expressing her new voice of choice - loud, aggressive and angry. I was getting upset with her asking her why she was being so nasty lately. And rude! She was being rude. She just kept yelling "NO!" at me. I was trying to get her to work on her 'K' sound as in "it's c-at, not ch-at." She was hating me and i was hating all these damn years of speech therapy. So, i was mean and rude and yelled at her.

Three minutes later she vomited all over herself, the carseat and the car.

Right. That explains the grumpiness. Poor girl.

Extreme grumpiness, almost always, has a reason behind it. Lesson learned. Car stinky.

So, i've been playing softball on a team with other parents from the kids school. I could never have imagined how much fun it would be. After one game i was feeling competitive and sparky, spunky.

I was an athlete in a previous life. Competitive diving for ten plus years. I gave all that up when the all-consuming hormonal rush of late adolescence took hold of me. Then i dressed in black, drank black coffee and wrote poetry until the hormones of marriage and children took over.

But now! Now i am back. I love the games. The fun. And, of course, the beer.

Really though i want to win. Every game i want to win. And we lose. We are parents. Out of shape, sloppy parents playing against a bunch of young people who can drink copious amounts during the game and still beat us. Tonight we did better. Lost by one point.

Many of us have been injured. Injuries of old folks. Pulled groins. Sore backs from leaping for bad throws (lots of those.)

When i hit the ball and raced to first base i pulled something or other in my thigh. I hobbled through the rest of the game because "there's no crying in baseball!" My husbands the coach. That's what he yelled to me when i was beaned with a ball in the thigh last week.

Now i am laying down with ice on my thigh, hoping it will be all better for the game on friday.

I hate your word verification! Some of you use swirly scripty text that confuses the hell out of my eyes. Especially! If i have had a glass, or two, of wine. If you must use it please keep it to words like "yes" "no" "beer" and "fart." No swirly letters allowed.

Watching sesame street for an hour followed up with an hour on the laptop playing on the sesame street website?

That's educational and healthy right?

This morning shane was asking me "how come you're so mean to me?"

and Toby without missing a beat turned around and said:

"Because you annoy her!"

who's there?

orange

orange who?

orange you glad i'm in a better mood?

ha ha ha ha haha!

Yesterday we had a day of distraction. Distracting parker from feeling sick and me from feeling sorry for myself. Perfect.

Toby was going for a playdate at the home and dairy farm of a friend from school. We have been wanting to see the farm for ages and i happened to need to pick up a bunch of chickens from right next door. So, we all went. It was awesome.

Awesome except for the mud, large pond of cow urine and gigantic piles of cow shit. Farming is a dirty, smelly business that's for certain.

Best of all though, the absolute perfect way to cure any ailment; having a two week old calf faux-nurse/suckle on your fingers! So gross, but oh so cool. We all tried it and all screamed with glee. We also drank milk straight from the cow! Gross! Double gross! It had gone through the milker and into the holding tank, chilled. Not pasteurized or anything though. Just the straight goods.

Our farmer friend handed parker a glass and said "just like mom, only cold!" Parker's eyes lit up. It tasted like more than homo milk, but less than cream. Good.

Our farmer friend used me as an example many times as we asked questions:

"Well, i don't know. Jess! How does it feel to get milked?"

"Jess! You know how it is. As you lactate longer and longer? The teats, they get closer to the ground!"

"Yes! We use special creams and ointments to prevent dry and cracked teats. Jess! What do you use?"

Oh a million laughs were had i tell you. Especially at shane as he gagged his way through the plethora of smells.

On sunday night a family from the school invited our family for dinner. The thing about visiting other peoples houses, especially when they have fewer kids than us, is that their houses are always so damn nice. I always find myself looking around at the zen appeal. Everything in it's place - a place for everything. No stuff. No, actually, lots of nice stuff - no crap. Our decorating theme consists of toys, billions of varieties of footwear and various flotsam and jetsom that falls off the dogs as they wander to and fro. Chaos rules every aspect of my life.

I have recently given up on the homemaking part of my job description. It's too freakin hard. Oh, i clean and tidy and cook and play playdoh and do mountains of laundry every week. I've just given up on having a tidy house for more than a few moments. Those moments usually happen when family is visiting. They never happen when i leave the house for a few hours and hope to return to homemaking nirvana. Nope. It's always much worse at those times.

Anyway, we went to the perfectly pretty and cute house for dinner. I'm fairly certain that my children broke every rule in that house. They climbed on the furniture, ran in the house, screamed and - hold your breath - took out more than one toy at a time. I figure we are very good birth control for the houses we visit.

At one point our hostess was telling me about one time when her kids went somewhere else and were allowed to climb on the furniture and how it was very hard for her to get them to NOT do that at home. I think somewhere in the middle of that conversation it occurred to her that it most probably was my house that allowed the heathen climbing on furniture behaviour. In fact, i think at that moment my kids were re-arranging her furniture into a fort.

Right off the bat they offered shane and i sour apple martinis! Awesome! Shane and i really had to tame ourselves because those things are like kool-aid and we could definately drink a lot of those. I didn't want to get all dudley moore again so i restrained myself. Plus, we don't want to be *that* family. The one you have to buy lots of booze for.

The dinner was lovely. The kids were well behaved, except the fort thing. But, hey, they didn't break anything and they ate all their dinner. We left happy, feeling like bumpkins and with leftovers for lunch today! Perfect.

So, i have this idea that i want to get in shape - tame the flab that is my belly and everything that comes between there and my knees. Plus, i want to wear a bikini to the poolside social at BlogHer - i kid. As a result i signed up for a yoga class at the community centre that started this evening.

Aside from the fact that just signing up caused me major anxiety - hello no children at my knees to help me avoid actually talking to people - it meant leaving the house in (shhhhh) exercise clothes.

As i was leaving parker yelled at the top of his lungs "NO YOGA!!!!!" I almost relented. I didn't.

As i pulled in to the parking lot i found a dark spot and contemplated hiding in the car for 90 minutes and then going home. I talked to myself for a few minutes then went in.

The first person i saw was my daughters teacher - weird. I grabbed my mat and rushed to sit down, carefully finding a spot with nobody on either side. As i got up my nerve to look around i realized i'd made a terrible mistake. I signed up for seniors yoga! Seriously, i was the youngest by at least 20 years. Hey! Maybe this is a good thing; i am the youngest and perhaps the thinnest and maybe even less stiff than some of the ladies. No! These were some limber seniors.

Then the best part - two teenage girls walked in, looked around and grabbed each others hands and sat down trembling. Class begins! Wait, one of the ladies is handi-capable in some way because she has to comment on every stretch or position that there is "an easier way!" "Wait! Look! If i bend my knees it's way easier to touch my toes!" Now, i think this woman is wrecking the OHM because everyone is looking a little pissed when she interrupts the mouth pipe music or whatever the hell it is. Except the teenagers, they are terrified and trying very hard not to look AT ANYBODY. But damn they are flexible, foot over the back of their heads flexible. I can't help staring at them. They are so cute and pretty and self-conscious.

But then, shit, i get a sight of myself in the mirror and not only am i totally un-flexible but my belly is hanging out of the top of my mom's LuluLemon hand-me-down yoga pants! Gross.

The end of class is the relaxation part. That is the hardest part for me. Whenever someone tells me to think about breathing i can't breathe. I start to hyper-ventilate.

Panic!

But wait, i feel really gassy. All the ass-in-the-air poses have let the gas do what it must. And it must rise. So the teacher is saying feel your bottom relax, your perineum, your thighs. And i am sitting beside my daughters teacher hyper-ventilating and SQUEEZING my ass so as to keep the gas in.

Finally, it was over.

I raced out and guess what i passed on the way out? The teenagers smoking? No! The seniors smoking!

I am such a loser.

Today, my dad bought me an airplane ticket to san jose on july 26 of this year. This summer! Do you know where i am going? I'm going to BlogHer!

I was so bummed out last summer when i didn't get to go. Really, my regret about not going lasted for months. But, i did meet Supa and Denise and many others because i DIDN'T go. We met in a BlogHer live chat. I made a promise to myself that i would go this year.

The problem is that i am an unmedicated social anxiety disaster. I know i will be sitting in my room full of panic and dread. And probably everyone will think i'm that weird canadian. I get that a lot. She's the snobby weird one. Because! When i do try to talk to people i'm a total idiot. Even when i try to comment on other blogs - total idiot. Awesome!

Still, i'm totally going - just to get away from my own private hell. I love my kids - a lot. But, i haven't been alone for more than 3 or 4 hours since June 5 1997.

That was the night before the night tristan was born. I was being induced earlier that day and it was a total disaster. So, i spent the night alone in the hospital - barfing from demerol. Romantic!

But, that was the last time. Aside from a whirlwind trip with parker and shane in 2004 to toronto for my sister-in-laws wedding, i've been no where, no place since our hawaii honeymoon in june 1995.

I suck.

I am so excited. I think i will spend the time sleeping. Also, i have a room - at the Hyatt! Two queen size beds - sharesies anyone? I don't snore, but i do fart - a lot.

When i was young i was painfully shy and had social anxiety - not much has changed actually. I remember dreading going to birthday parties, playdates, school, gymnastics - anywhere. My little Eliza is the same way. She is perfectly happy to be with me all the time. She even pouts when i go out and leave her with her dad or grandma. I push her a little, but not too much because i understand.

The other day we were at the grocery store and an older grandma type in front of us tried to talk to her; the usual "what did you get for christmas?" Eliza ignored her, looking away pushing her tongue into her cheek ( a nervous habit). The lady then turned to me and proceeded to give me a huge lecture that went something like this:

"She doesn't talk to strangers?" "You know you CAN talk to strangers when mommy is around!" Eliza continued to ignore her. She went on..."It's a shame what you mothers are doing to children. They need to learn about community and watching out for their neighbours. You should really sign her up for a grandma program (?) and break her of this bad habit."

Ya da ya da ya da yawn. She went on and on like this. Never mind that she's not MY neighbour and sure as hell not part of my community. I was feeling pretty mad. My blood sugar was also dropping really fast and all i wanted to do was pay and get the hell out of there so that i could eat an orange.

So, finally she moved on to torment the cashier with her order of fifty little bags of bulk food and checking every single price and scan. I noticed at the end of her order a tub of tofu.

"Hey! I need tofu to go with the snap peas!"

And. And you know what i did... I stole her tofu. I picked it up from her side of the little divider bar and put it on mine. I watched carefully to make sure she didn't notice. And well Bobs Your Uncle!! She didn't notice and i did the highly civilized thing - stealing from a grandma!

OMG and WTF! I don't know what i was thinking. I'm gonna have to buy a lot of Tupperware from grandma down the street to make up for that one.

As it's a new year it's time to make a fresh start on my self-mockery. As i have discussed many times i have a little problem with my little parker. He's a booby man. I know, you're starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He can order it in restaurants for gods sake. But, it's so much easier said than done.

Just last week i told you, ingrid internet, that i was weaning him. So didn't happen.

I think the biggest problem is that i have been trying to reason with him. Just today, i was tired, so tired, and my back was aching. That's the other part of the problem - parker sleeps in between shane and i. I don't really sleep, just rest uncomfortably in the crack waiting for him to wake up again.

Here's how it looks:

A pretty good representation right down to the nursing bra and silk lady boxers.

But then, he's my baby and i worry about him because, in my defense, he got sick last week. Now he is on two steroids and antibiotics. I am hopping back on that weaning horse when he is all better.

See:

Promise *crossing fingers* Promise!

First, this is entry 200 on my new blog and second, someone will soon be the 200th commenter on this new blog -- really awesome prize to THAT person.

So, my modest goals for 2006

Fulfill my lifelong dream to become a Seventeen magazine model, guest star as a love interest on the OC, record my freshman record with guest appearances by 50cent and Ashlee Simpson, perform on TRL, meet Nick Lachey and show him what a real woman can do for him, fall apart in a blaze of trashy self-indulgent behaviour and write about it on my fansite.

or

Wean Parker.

comments = prizes

Happy New Year

Yesterday in a continuation of germs as we know them Parker and Eliza woke up with the poops. I took it all in stride as i had an escape plan: board meeting 6:30pm!

At lunch Parker came to me with glassy eyes, snotty nose and rosy red cheeks and asked me to share my soup with him. I am a mother in love. How could i refuse? As i fed him a spoonful in between each of mine i carried on this conversation in my head:

left side - you are so totally getting sick!
right side - no! i am super-mom, germs can't break my super-barrier!
LS - you dumbass! stop eating off the same spoon! look at that snot!
RS - you can't feel love like i do. Look i would do anything for my children!
LS - dumbass. stop now!
RS - too late! all gone!

Before i went to my meeting i stopped at the grocery store to get some cookies to share because i am super-mom! Halfway through the store my tummy started to gurgle. Of course the rest you can guess. But ha! I'm fine today. And happy! Because i am super-mom!

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'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.