After eating my quota of stoned wheat thins and cream cheese with pomegranate jelly i feel a little rejuvenated after this long day of work, long week of work.
I am feeling silly, rambunctious, missing tonight.
I kissed my kids goodbye this afternoon as they head off on an adventure. An adventure that involves first flights on airplanes, family reunions that don't involve me and the longest time we have ever been apart. They are gone until a week tuesday. I am feeling the shock of losing these pieces of me. These little ties that have been bound to me for the past eleven years. I made frantic calls tonight about epipens and distances to hospitals; torn by the loss of control.
I have scheduled myself with lots of work while they are gone. Work and getting organized for BlogHer.
Did i tell you that i can't brush my teeth without feeling like i have to pee? What about those libraries? They make me feel a deep need too.
I am nervous about the conference. Won't you be nice to me? Come and see me speak.
I have learned so many things about my heart this year. How strong it is.
My heart can feel like it is breaking, literally falling out of my body. Tight and hot inside my chest. Pounding so hard and fast that I literally feel it jumping out of me, wondering when it will actually just split me wide open and fall out on the floor.
Sometimes it will be the small things. Speaking with one of the teenage kids at work about their experiences coming from a broken home. Trying to answer my kids questions. All the “whys” that come from their tiny mouths. Wondering if they can see my heart as I hold in the tears and force a smile.
Sometimes it’s the big things. Harsh and hurtful words coming in emails. Going to see lawyers and financial planners. Anxiety attacks in homes that have become unfamiliar to me, homes which were once mine, but are unfamiliar now. Employment which is unreliable. Babysitters that have better lives and jobs making more change and unfamiliarity in my home.
Other times my heart is strong.
Sometimes it’s friends. Flowers dropped off. Vegetable garden thriving, eating the first salad grown in my home.
Sometimes it’s the children. Pudgy, still pre-schooler hands rubbing my back in the morning. Daughters singing away, out of tune, listening to their new ipod. Sons yelling out “I love you” from their beds when they should be sleeping. Finally purchasing a kitchen table where we can all sit together and be a family.
I have learned that my heart is fluid. Moving from one end of the spectrum to the other. Always beating away, reminding me that I am alive. I am alive. I have love.
I was sort of dreading valentine's day. All the holidays are difficult right now. Combined with my crazy head and hectic work week i was feeling a little knot in my stomach that i was going to have a classic bad mommy moment.
It worked out though. Parker and i went out and picked out a small gift for each of the kids, some playmobil, some craft kits and a fountain pen for Tristan. My valentines from Brenda arrived just in time. The girls loved them, as i knew they would. Toby opted for little boxes of smarties with a "to and from" box on the back. They sat while i cooked dinner and did all their cards - without any fuss or frustration.
I made one of our favourite dinners, linguine tossed with smoked salmon, and we had a lovely evening. At bedtime we talked a bit more about love and relationships and mommy and daddy. Just casual, but always keeping the conversation open for them. Then i sent them to bed, cards ready to go in paper sacks.
Valentines morning they jumped out of bed and in a whirlwind of dirty socks, teeth-brushing and cheerios they were in the car ten minutes after they woke. Returning home in the afternoon with bags full of treats and valentines and retreated to their bedroom to compare the hauls.
Work, which i had been dreading, went amazingly well. Everybody was happy. There were no boyfirend/husband/partners grumpy because they were out spending money on something they resented. All the couples, and there were lots of them, were sweet and cute and lovey-dovey, and had i not magically transformed into a woman who was not bitter about love and relationships, i probably would have spent the evening giving caf to the decafs, veal broth to the vegetarians and spilling red wine on every white blouse.
But i didn't. Instead i gave everybody SAJ Valentines in their billfolds and drove home with a pocket full of money and a little faith in my heart.
And i walked in the door to a bouquet of flowers, a card, some chocolate and a bottle of wine.
The thing i am realizing about men. The men in my life. Is that they all want to leave their mark. Their little bit of ownership.
They want to control you in small, subtle ways. Little things that you hardly notice until you are buried under someone else's blanket, diggin your way out for a little bit of fresh air.
They may leave a beer in your fridge, or a scratch on your back. They may read your writing for a little hint of them.
Even my boys do it. Maybe it's parker peeing on the floor, like a male dog marking his territory. Or toby taking little things of mine and carrying them around in his pocket.
I'm in love with this man. His words. His voice. His music. Even the beard.
In the restaurant last night we had a mom and dad in with their young teenage son. He went to a local fancy pants boarding school. He was sweet and polite. And obviously gay. Or well on his way to being so. I suspect he already knew so. I'm so impressed with the world today that kids, although it must be incredibly hard, are able to come out as gay while they are still young. While they are going through those already rough years of teenship.
To me it speaks to a future that might be a little kindler and gentler.
As dinner was ending the conversation got a little intense. Mom and dad on one side of the table and tender-hearted son on the other. We overheard little snippets of conversation; "so do you have a girlfriend yet?"
"That's not my son."
As dessert was prepared we noticed young son crying. Dad waving his finger heatedly. Mom nodding in agreement. To be fair i really had no idea what was going on. But, i felt so sick inside. I wanted to pick up the young son. Save him from the torment in such a public place. I could feel the big ball in his throat. I could remember the identical feelings.
I was enraged. With no way to help. Instead i have just let it bother me for days.
I'm exhausted. From mind numbness to full body fatigue.
I have been working very hard on so many, very different, things. Waitressing, working the tasting bar (fun, fun, fun - chatting up people as you feed them free booze), writing, writing, writing, getting ready for school, hanging out at the beach...
Tomorrow i am working a wedding that has ordered enough wine, beer and cider for every guest to have a litre. Before that i am taking the kids to the annual country fair in our little town where we will ride in the bicycle parade, have cookies and photos judged, and enter doodle the schnoodle in the doggy competition. We are all a little sad that we have no chickens to enter this year.
All of these distractions are good. A busy mind and body has no time to be idle and sad.
I am preparing for some large and small changes in my life. I am getting ready to wind down for the long, dark winter.
My very favourite picture of me from BlogHer. I love me some sarcastic journalist. SJ and i were "internet friends" before the conference. She helped me to ban my entire flesh and blood from this website, i offered her advice on how to properly squirt breastmilk into your toddlers' eyes (gets rid of pink eye y'all), she gave me some internet love when i needed it. But, up close and in person? She was fabulous. Honest. Open. Told me i couldn't come to her party unless i stopped drinking gin and tonics. (I didn't go - couldn't face the SJ chastisement.) She was, well, nice.
I am pulled in many directions tonight. Excited about a new project with a new friend. Gearing up for school.
It's really not just the kids that go back to school, but me too. I had a meeting at the school today, when i left with a huge list of things to do, i realized that summer really was almost over. That i have taken on way too many things. But, that it will all work out. This is what i need. A full life.
Now. Now i need to prepare for speech therapy and meetings with therapists and academic delays and learning disabilities and all the things about my Toby that i can put away for the summer. Just let him be.
Camping was wonderful. A brief interlude. A beautiful place.
My friend and i had many long conversations by the campfire, worked pioneer woman style through the day. Cooking on an open fire, washing dishes barefoot in the surf, feeding the kids and sending them to play. To find adventures. To build driftwood forts and barter crab shells and eagle feathers.
I forgot about my worries. Feeling them slowly drift away over the two hour drive. My friend taught me to stand in the surf. Let the waves bring in all your hopes and dreams washing them over dirty toes and carry out all the bad stuff. Gone, out to sea.
I returned home to a new job. My first job in ten years. A waitress at a local winery bistro. I worked exhausting and exhilarating ten hour shifts. Working a wedding in the orchard and reception by the trout pond. People so happy, so in love.
I came home late in the night. Bright eyed and alive. Happy to be doing something for me. Something so simple. Something so easy. How could it make me so happy. I wish i had done this years ago.
The thing about monogamy and marriage is the in between.
One day you make a decision that this is it. This is the person i love today, i'll love tomorrow and i will love until the day i die.
The problem is all the days in between. The years where you grow older and different. Different than the young, wild thing that believed in perfect love. You wake up and look over and realize "this is not my beautiful wife."
Shane and i have both changed. How could we not. We were 20 years old when we started dating. A lifetime has passed since then. There have been days and weeks where we looked at each other as strangers. Like when he voted conservative in the federal election. And felt good about it. We argued and argued about politics. He stood his ground and was absolutely sure about his decision.
Then i realized. That's who i fell in love with and will always love. My stubborn man.
I know that he has woken up many times over the years, hoping that the jess he married would be laying beside him. But, i wasn't. I probably never will be. I have lived entire lives since the day we met.
I remember the first time I ever saw him. I was in college, living with an insignificant first boyfriend who afforded me the opportunity to get the hell out of my parent’s house. We had been living together, tumultuously, for three years. I first saw Shane standing on top of a picnic table reciting poetry aloud to a group of admirers. He was all gangly -not yet a man - ganglylimbs, spiky black hair and black leather motorcycle jacket.
I walked by in my matching jacket. Nothing happened. It was just one of those moments. A moment where you see someone and know that you are destined to be with that person.
It wasn’t until the next semester that we met. We ended up in the same poetry class together. A class full of promising young writers and a professor looking to reclaim his lost youth as part of the Tish Group in Vancouver.
Shane and I, along with a soon to be lifelong friend Eric, were picked out by the instructor to be his prodigies. We met at the bar down the road many late nights, drinking beer and planning our emergence on to the young writers scene in Vancouver.
We began an anonymous poetry chat sheet. Funded, unbeknownst to them, by the English Department. We picked the best of the poems submitted to us every week (often one of our own.) Photocopied them on coloured parchment and distributed them across campus and around town.
We began submitting our poetry to local literary magazines, attending poetry readings and crashing parties at famous Vancouver writer’s houses; George Bowering, Gladys Hindmarch, Stan Persky.
We spent our evenings drinking beer at a cheap hotel downtown and feeling powerful.
One night Shane and I met at his little apartment. We went to the liquor store and bought some vodka. We mixed it with orange juice. Nervous and alone he asked me if I was going to kiss him.
I did.
I went home that night and broke up with my boyfriend and slept on the couch. I rented myself a bedroom in a crappy house in West Vancouver the next day.
My life was beginning. I was so full of hope for my new future. Knowing that I had finally found something that I could do well. Something that made me happy.
Have you ever lusted over the smell of someone. That perfect lover whose smell is permanently etched in your memory.
When you do their laundry you smell each article of clothing trying to hold that smell, that perfect smell, forever in your senses for fear that you will never smell them again?
Borrowed clothes or hand-me-downs may come along bathed in that same smell, that same mysterious laundry detergent, and it brings you right back to that perfect person.
I often hear of people who won't give up dirty clothes of loved ones who have died because they hold that magic smell.
For me the smell of someone, not the cologne they wear or the soap they use, but their smell - the sweat and the work and the life that their body exudes is an absolute and often painful reminder of who they are.
I suppose this can work the other way to. Many people loathe the smell of hospitals because they relate the smell to sickness, ill-health and often death. For me, still living in innocence, the smell of hospitals reminds me of life. New life. Everytime i smell something that's come from hospital laundry it reminds me of the precious first days i had with all my children. Those small moments of total stillness and peace. First breaths, first cry, first nursing, first baths. With every baby a few days alone, just me and them. Celebrating the new life that came from me. I immerse myself in that smell whenever i am near it and a flood of memories comes back.
Shane likes to wear a smelly deodorant, old spice i think, because the smell reminds him of his father. I always like the days when he forgets to put it on. I like that smell of him. And i do stop, sometimes, when i am doing his laundry and bury my face in his shirt and soak in his smell, hoping that it stays with me forever.
A friend reminded me tonight of the Christmas Oratorio by Bach. You should listen. It will bring you back down to earth.
To a peaceful place where simple things make you happy.
Where gifts become more about showing and giving love rather than the physical, plastic things that cost more money than they are worth.
Where a little cat becomes such a lifeforce in your home in a few short days you wonder what life was like before they were there. Before they sat on the "l" key. Screwing up your typing over and over.
And i'm sorry. I love dogs. I love animals. But, cats are much, much smarter than dogs.
But, they have smelly bums. Which they like to point out at every opportunity. Like right now. In the middle of the Oratorio, walking across my chest. Tail up.
I am in the middle of making a christmas video. I have been viewing tape of the christmas party. I have mucho footage of me drunk dirty dancing in sexy dress and bare feet. Plus sexy husband singing "I'll melt with you" and "Hungry Like the Wolf."
We are so eighties.
I am doing well. I am learning to live in this life. That life, well, maybe it's just hard. That everybody has a tough road to walk on. That maybe the choices i make are not always the right ones. That i need to accept and love what i have. That i need to let go of the past that haunts me so. That maybe, just maybe, life isn't this hard for everybody else. That, indeed, i need help.
But then? This is who i am. I see the beauty in so many small things because i can't feel beauty and happiness in the bigger picture.
This is why i was so scared of taking drugs. Why i have fought them every step of the way.
I am who i am. I have always been sad. I remember being sad when i was three. But i also remember the smell of the soil when i was three.
I remember wanting to die when i was five. But i also remember the beauty of a single tree. The moss that grew up it's side. the way the branches dipped with age. The way in fall it was barren, but in spring it would be reborn again.
I can see all these things. My children being born from beauty and sadness. How much i love them. Fill every inch of my being with them. How despite every single thing i do, they are their own person. Tristan is musical, toby is creative, eliza is strong willed and parker is too young to be anything but beautiful.
I feel so inspired. I am going to finish my novel. I know it now. I will listen to this music every night.
Can you be an artist and never paint or draw a thing?
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.
Yesterday one of the kids spilled a glass of something on my keyboard and rendered it useless. The worst part? This is the third time it has happened. Three keyboards lost to juice boxes.
This is a pattern in our lives. When we got new carpet in the playroom last year we were "never, not ever! going to allow food in this room again!"
Then we had the great mouse infestation of spring 2006 which made us renew our pledge "we will never again! allow food in this room! we suck!"
Last night after the broken keyboard incident and a moldy yogurt tube under the couch we have renewed our pledge "we suck! and we will try really hard to never, ever (except during survivor) have food in the room (oh, also after the kids go to bed it's okay) again!!"
Shane's away. We have just returned from the busiest day ever and what a wonderful day it has been. Sunny and warm. Afternoons at the lake and barbecues with good friends. I feel like i couldn't ask for anything else.
Except, perhaps, mousetraps that are not full of little black eyed creatures when i come home and, maybe, shane to have told me where he left the other mouse traps before he left.
My face is full of cold sores. Again. I felt them coming when school business got complicated and shane told me he had to work out of town on mothers day. The biggest cold sores ever. Two.
In desperation i asked my friend for help and she gave me some grapefruit oil to put on. I did. And man my mouth couldn't have burned harder if i had poured acid straight on my face. Now i have two bloody ulcers that seem to be healing, and my god they should for all the pain i am feeling right now.
I didn't like teenage girls when i was a teenage girl.
i wore a lot of black.
I love greys anatomy.
And now i must watch. Tomorrow will be worse in terms of the business of kids.
I look at that photo and really, as cliche as it sounds, i can't believe i did that. All those little people came from my struggles, joy, pain and food. I ate food and made that. That really freaks me out.
I love my children so much. I love every inch of them. Pouring over their bodies after they have baths. Tending to splinters, cuts, eczema, cradle cap, ingrown nails and tangly hair. I devour every inch of them. Every single beautiful little bit. Especially little feet and bear-like chubby paws. Oh how i love them. Every night i go from bed to bed. Touching their foreheads, sweeping hair out of their face, stealing kisses - so careful not to wake them.
My god how i love them. It hurts.
And they are growing so fast. We are making plans for birthdays. I'm so sad to leave behind the days of "they're 2, 4, 6, and 8! Yay me!"
Parker has been worried all weekend about the "mommas." When we moved the chicks outside "what about their momma?" When we see deer in the fields "where's their momma?" When we had roast chicken for dinner "is this the momma?" And finally, his constant reprise since christmas "where's our turkey?" He's such a compassionate and sweet boy. I feel so lucky to wake up next to his sweet face and plentiful kisses every morning.
This weekend has been filled with a long overdue spring cleaning. A cleaning involving many dead mice (6 and counting), chicks moved out of the laundry room and into the coop (photos soon i promise), and hand-made cards and crafty gifts. Every single thing i ever hoped for.
I wish for every single one of you to feel the love that i feel. To love what you have. To find peace in your sorrow. Happiness in your life. Family.
Well, happy easter to all you slacker husbands and your hard working wives.
We had a wonderful 6 1/2 minute easter egg hunt followed by one of the most relaxing days ever for this household. We turned off the computers and the television and had a lazy day of crazy eights and cooking.
Tristan helped me make shane's families traditional easter dinner: ham and kilkagh (any help spelling that would be appreciated). Kilkagh is a mennonite dish that is the one dish that is most likely to kill you. Homemade pasta cut into one inch strips in a sauce of whip cream and butter - any extra sauce is poured gravy style over the ham. Very delicious, but must be eaten in very small quantities or vomiting will result as i learned the hard way many years ago.
Bellies full of sugar, chocolate and high fat foods all the kids have settled in nice and early for the evening.
Last night all the kids decided to sleep i my bed. Again. It's been nice having shane away. Except that i have been staying up way too late. Really enjoying some solitude. Generally puttering around the house for hours every night. No television. Just the blissful sounds of silence.
When i put the kids to bed we were all saying good night to each other john-boy style. Each taking turns saying good night to everybody. Several times.
When parkers turn came he lined up his water bottles above his pillow.
"Good night water. Goodnight other water. Goodnight oldest water. Love me water."
I think my boobs have been replaced by a line up of water. And apparently he loves them more than all of us.
Funnily enough on this day of expressing your love for the loved ones in your life shane talked in his sleep last night about some other woman and i dreamt of my first love.
My mom always likes to tease me that i was a homely kid and honestly, i really was. I had thick curly frizzy unruly hair that overshadowed any beauty that may have been hiding under all of it.
When i was in grade 8 and starting high school i fell into the most intense and long lasting crush. His name was mark and he was a very cool, dark and brooding grade 9 boy. I remember memorizing his class schedule just so i could watch him walk down the hallway. His swagger sent me swooning. My crush lasted at least three years.
When i was in grade 10 someone let him know (it would have been impossible for him to not have known as i had obsessively followed him for three years) how i felt and at the valentine's dance he swaggered over to me for the last slow dance and said "I hear you want to dance with me."
And so we danced to madonna "crazy for you." I'll never forget that feeling of slow dancing with him. He never talked to me again after that.
Then one night many years later i was at a late night pizza place in vancouver after a night of dancing. I had recently broken up with a long term live in boyfriend and had begun dating shane. I wasn't with shane i was out with another mark; a friend visiting from london. I was 20 years young. And i had left that homeliness long behind.
Sitting alone at a booth beside us was the mark of my highschool crush. We started chatting and laughing. He poured hot peppers on my pizza and dared me to eat it. I did. I think at some point i introduced the two marks. My highschool crush mark asked how i knew his name.
"You KNOW me! I'm jess from highschool."
"No way!"
He took off the hat i was wearing. I knew at that moment that i had finally won the boy of my adolescent dreams. We never saw each other again.
Happy Valentine's Day to all my internet crushes!
xxoo
Thanks guys for all your thoughts - really so nice and makes me feel all tingly and unworthy.
Parker is doing okay. We are at home and if there's one good thing it is that i am so glad that i hadn't weaned him yet. He still can't keep any food (or medicine) down, even water and juice is touch and go, so knowing that i could give him a little something made me very happy. We didn't stay at the hospital long as we were sharing a room with many sick and noisy toddlers and there was no rest to be had. We have a nebulizer at home and my sister the doctor on-call.
The biggest problem has been his gag reflex which makes it virtually impossible to get antibiotics, tylenol, prednisone in him the conventional ways. Poor little suppository boy.
He is still very wheezy and his cough is yucky. His fever is slowly coming down after sitting alarmingly high for 48 hours. I'd be lying if i told you i wasn't still worried, he is still very sick. This is his third pneumonia and it really kicks me in the ass that my biggest, most robust appearing baby keeps getting so sick.
He does take Singulair and an inhaled steroid every day already. I know it's silly, but i really think all the damn rain doesn't help.
Anyway, i'm feeling very sad and i have a monster cold sore plus my period. I am going to take today and tomorrow, but will check in on monday.
I remember when i got pregnant with parker. I remember, aside from my own terror at the thought of four kids, that we had to hold off on telling our families. Being pregnant AGAIN! was going to go over like a lead balloon. I had all four of my kids in a six year period. It was a lot. I don't think my body is ever going to fully recover.
Stretch marks aside i knew that my mom and my mother-in-law would be disappointed. Why? Well, i think shane's mom worried that it was too much, that i was somehow limiting her son's potential. Somehow three was okay, but four crossed the line.
We chose to have four kids. And at some point a few years earlier we chose to have two kids. Two was good. Perfect - a boy and a girl. Then? Well. Eliza. Who was perfectly perfect, but turned perfection into three kids. Three kids with insecure little toby in the middle. In the middle of TWO girls. We knew pretty quickly that three was not a magic number for us. And so four it was to be.
At exactly the same time i got pregnant with parker my sister and my sister-in-law got pregnant too. I knew that their second and first pregnancies were going to require all the energy my family had to muster. So, we decided to keep our fourth a surprise for as long as possible. We let the bomb drop when i was 22 weeks pregnant by sending ultrasound pics with "it's a boy" in the subject line of a family wide email.
The response was not good. Everybody was upset. Shane's mom couldn't even muster a congratulations just lots of "oh my goodness". His brother was the only one who said anything positive and i think that was along the lines of "holy shit! way to go!"
We had many "have you guys figured out how it happens yet?" Har har.
My mom wasn't disappointed, but i remember her saying "oh, now your in trouble! You're never going to get out of this now!"
I've thought about that a lot since then. Like whenever shane and i are really not getting along. Those nights when you lie in bed planning your escape. For me it sounds something like:
Shit, if i kick him out how the hell am i going to pay for everything? No more private school that's for sure. And speech therapy? How much money could i get? How am I going to get a job? Who will take care of the kids? What about eliza's allergies? AND! I will be single FOREVER because nobody wants a 35 year old woman with four kids! Damn, i better make-up with shane in the morning.
I think THAT is the core of what my mom was saying. I will never get out of this life. And that's okay. Good in fact. I don't think she meant what she said to hurt my feelings, although it might have a bit at the time. I think she was speaking to me as a mother of four kids herself. A mother who gave everything to her kids and when we all became adults was faced with reinventing herself or pass away her empty nest years as, well, an empty nester.
In becoming the new, childless woman i think my mom saw a bit of what she had missed all those years. She saw it and wanted me to have everything just like all mothers do - want the best for their kids.
You know, i want to start this by saying how hard it is to be a mom. I know that's so boring, so yesterday. Now we need to move beyond the doldrums of daily life and find something interesting to say! Dammit!
The thing of it is, that's the truth. And sometimes the truth is hard to take. Mommyblogger or not. I dare you to find any mother that says this job is easy.
Granted, most of the women that find the time to sit down at the computer and write out the stories - those are not the moms that are out there being happy. We are the mothers who are shy, or depressed, or lonely or have the hutzpah to actually speak the truth.
No matter how much i love my kids, i have so many days that running away seems like the easier option. For those of you that have come face to face with depression you know how horrifying the prospect of ever facing that again is.
And so, we do what we have to do. To stay happy. To stay on this side of sadness.
What the hell? *shrug your shoulders with me* One of those days.
But, what i wanted to say is that's why i love YOU! I like that you are there, sharing with me, understanding some of the moments. It makes me feel better.
Oh! Totally gaining the winter 10! That helps my mood. Nothing worse than too tight cords.
I'm so excited! My super-secret valentines gift for shane arrived, Behold the beauty:
Debbie handstitched these most awesomest pillowcases. She makes all kinds of cool things for babies, toddlers and hopeless punk rock romantics. Her line is 60 bugs. The website is coming soon via Supa Design Unit.
So, it was sunny! Today! For a few short hours. We raced out the door to the beach. It was freezing, but sunny. The kids played and skipped rocks and the dogs screeched and hopped in and out of the very cold pacific ocean. The rain sort of cleared away yesterday and immediately the temperature dropped. Snow! Is next i'm sure.
A few months ago my kids (Toby) managed to erase all my digital photos prior to september 2003. Luckily, my dad had copied my whole library onto his computer, unbeknownst to me, but whatever! I've never been so glad to be ripped off.
To show you what could have been gone forever here is Eliza the cutest baby that ever lived in December 2001:
As it was payday today we went out for dinner tonight, which will surely screw me out of groceries three days before the next payday. But, oh well. I just couldn't face cooking, or cleaning or laundry all weekend. So today we needed something besides bowls of cereal for dinner.
On the way home we were talking about which kid did what when. Tristan rode a bike first, Toby weighed the most at birth, Eliza the least, Parker was the only one that crawled and so on. Every single thing we talked about became a competition for tristan. That means i was #2! Or i was the best, the first, most perfect! It amazes me how birth order really does help to define each of these kids. Tristan is the oldest and needs to be right and the best all the time. Otherwise she cries. Drives me crazy.
So, my husband is a cheater pants! He was technically commenter #200, but all he wanted was to get lucky for his prize - and, well, that's not really a prize. So, i gave him his "prize".
But, the real winner is CHAIR!!! Which makes me really happy because i have the perfect prize for her and, i think, she's swell.
So, email me your delivery destination! to jess at sparksgroup dot net! And swell things are coming your way and maybe for Theya too!
Twelve years ago, or so, shane was in a band that was moderately successful. They had a cd that was played on college radio, charting nationally, and a video played on MuchMusic. At the time i was recovering from going crazy after i graduated from university and shane took me under his wing and protected me and licked my wounds. He made me better. He made life worth living and asked me to marry him. I am eternally grateful and in love with him. It wasn't easy for him, loving me.
But he did. And i loved him too. A lot.
So, back then i always wanted him to write a song for me. I wanted to hear in words how he adored me. He was never able to do it.
This holiday has been a little bumpy for us. That's okay though. Bumps are good. He didn't give me a gift for christmas. We agreed on that, but i still held out a little niggle of hope that he would.
Today, he gave me a gift. The greatest thing anyone has ever given me actually. This morning on my iPod i found three songs that he wrote and recorded on GarageBand. One, "happy to get you", he wrote for me.
The holiday has turned. What a wonderful way to end the year.
We have settled nicely into this whole vacation thing. The kids have been staying up a little later and sleeping in until 9! in the morning. I have been staying up late as i like to do.
I think the hardest part of parenting for me is the whole morning thing. I'm really a mess until noon or later. I don't really come to life until the evening. It's not unusual for me to turn the music way up while i'm making dinner and get all the kids to dance with me. Normal people's lowest time of day is the beginning of my high-point.
The best gift this holiday is lounging in bed in the mornings and sitting up late - guilt free and alone - at night.
Come next tuesday i'll be singing a different story. Actually, there won't be much singing - a lot of yelling - for instance:
"get your asses out of bed!"
"you're going to be LATE for sharing!"
"DADDY'S LEAVING!!!" "AND I'M NOT TAKING YOU IN MY JAMMIES!!"
"Forget about your teeth! Nobody will notice you stink!"
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.
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.
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!
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!
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.
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