People of the world...

No that's not it.

People of my world. I have returned. Somehow in these dark days of winter. Somehow instead of being bogged down by depression, i have emerged.

I saw myself tonight. For the first time in a long time. I have that fight back.

I will not take the hatred, the fear. I will not take it anymore. I am who i am. I know i frighten you. A real person full of flaws. Full of love. Full of dedication.

In front of my children. Tonight. I took a stand. You cannot continue to try and villainize me. Humiliate me.

I have made mistakes. But i have also done many wonderful things. I have volunteered hundreds of my hours to my community. I have made a better place for my children and yours.

Whether you are with me or against me. It doesn't matter anymore because i know, deep in my heart, that i am a good person.

xx
jess

My days are so hectic. Mornings spent packing lunches, herding kids in and out of cars and into classes. Parent helping in eliza's class.

Today driving to a school swim, watching parker who insisited on swimming (in his underwear) from the side of the pool. Driving kids back to school, home to do laundry and breakfast dishes, back to school. Meetings. Driving again to marimba class. Dinner. Bed and all it's lingering rituals.

My nights are now consumed with NaNoWriMo. My novel. A beginning and an end. A middle to be written over the next 29 days. 50,000 words.

A novel that will be far from perfect, but it will be mine. It will be a sad and lonely love story.

Because love is the central theme in my life. So much love needed, by so many people.

A life this busy, It just sort of happens. And it has been happening despite my always present, waxing and waning sadness.

I find it so funny how the kids pick up all the small details in our lives, then process them through their gigantic minds and, eventually, incorporate them into some sort of game.

Every night while i make dinner the kids play on the balcony off the kitchen and i throw open the french doors so our house seems that much larger for half of the year. Invariably they each grab one of their favourite wheeled toys that are out there; parker usually uses one of the cozy coupe trucks, eliza rides the tricycle and toby perches on top of his little battery operated motorcycle that he got for his third birthday but refuses to admit he's grown out of. Sometimes they're all on the scooters or their bicycles, but more often than not they choose the miniature "real" things.

Tonight they created an elaborate "drive-thru" game using all the recycling that i had piled up on the deck waiting to be run out to the boxes. Parker pulled up to the drive-thru window and ordered "a large coffee with two creams and ten timbits."

Every day, at some point, i find reason to go to the Tim Hortons drive-thru and get a large coffee with two creams. Sometimes the kids have a milk, or a chocolate milk, or a bagel with cream cheese and very rarely a box of timbit donuts.

Across the way from the Tim Hortons is a McDonalds. I try really, really hard not to feed my kids that crappy food, but every now and then i cave and get them some sort of happy meal or perhaps an order of hash browns.

Every time we go by parker asks for something, usually a hash brown. I often tell him it's not hash brown time or when he wants chocolate milk and i want him to have regular i say "they don't have any today..." or some other small lie for the sake of his health.

When it was parkers turn to be the drive thru window attendant he answered every order with "it's not bagel time - it's hash brown time!"

The onset of summer vacation happening simultaneously with my head injury has called to question every last bit of calmness i have.

I try not to yell at my kids, i really do. I can often be found face down on my bed trying desperately to get my heart to stop beating so furiously. These days i feel furious. A lot.

Eliza, bless her little dimples, pushes every single button i have. Constant whining and obstinance combined with her velcro personality is wearing me down. I know she's getting ready for the big leap to kindergarten and acting out and being defiant is her way of working through all her emotions around her impending seperation from me. But still. Where's the love.

I am still continuously amazed at the thanklessness of this job. I have gotten so much more than i bargained for. So much more love, dirt, stress and poop than is humanly fathomable.

I plan every day around the kids. All fun, all the time. Yet, they are so thankless. I know i can't make them understand the life-changing sacrifice i am making, staying home with them. But, it can be damn frustrating.

To further my insanity i am taking them all camping on monday, by myself.

scene one

5:00 pm

interior: playroom

scene: mother sleeping face down on floor. toddler building town with blocks nearby. two girls playing at computer nearby. six year old boy driving cars on mothers back.

zoom in: mother snoring

zoom in: four year old girl (girl 1)

girl 1: "when is mommy going to make dinner?"

girl 2 (eight years old): "ssshhhh. she's sleeping AND grumpy."

zoom in: mom drooling

zoom in: toddler joining in with parking cars on mothers back. starts building block city on mothers back.

girl 1: "i'm starving!"

girl 2: "SSSHHH. here i'll get you some cereal."

scene two

5:34 pm

exterior: driveway. van pulling in.

interior: dad walks in door. takes in playroom scene.

dad: "sssshhhh! let's go out for dinner."

scene three

exterior: kids and dad climb into van and leave.

interior: mom jumps up. high fives nobody. gets glass of wine.

I'm in a quandry. In my third and fourth pregnancies i developed carpal tunnel syndrome. It disappeared shortly after the appearance of the bald, cute ones. But lately, the past 18 months to be exact, i have been typing a lot. A-hem - look around here. This stuff? It requires typing. And commenting hither and thither. More typing.

So, the burning wrists are back, numb fingers (three of them) on each hand, but on top of that my middle finger on my right hand is killing me. It's painful and swollen in the knuckle. Break it to me. This is the beginning of arthritis isn't it? I can take it.

I was in competitive diving for ten years. Five of those years i did platform diving. Everybody said "your going to get arthritis in your shoulders and hands from this." "At an early age!" But, it will be totally worth it because you're, like, number 13 on the canadian team! Not good enough for anything exciting like olympics, or commonwealth games, but 13!! And besides you'll be old then anyway, like 35.

And so, here i am. What can i do about this? I think i know all the answers that are coming - just live with it, or just live without it (typing).

3 things you wish for (just for you)
1. sleep
2. patience
3. magical ability

3 things you would do to/for yourself if there was no one to judge you (or if you had the guts to do it!)
1. buy some long hair
2. rent a house in spain for a year
3. definitely new boobs and a brazillian

3 bad habits you have
1. yelling
2. chocolate and wine
3. gas

3 insecurities you feel
1. my teeth need whitening but i can't afford it
2. talking to someone one on one
3. that i'm fun enough for my kids

3 talents/skills you wish you had
1. i wish i had the patience for photoshop
2. i wish i could design and code my own blog
3. i wish i could write and play music

3 things that you would do if you had more time
1. exercise
2. garden
3. use that purple vibrator shane got me

3 things that bring you peace/relaxation
1. kids having fun
2. belly laughs
3. a glass of wine followed by some hanky panky

3 things that spark your creativity
1. kids, dogs, chickens, husband
2. depression
3. music

Thank you mama tulip! I'll tag everybody below and belinda, Supa, and debbie. Suckers!!

This morning while i was in the shower parker asked if he could join me. Up until recently parker and eliza showered with me every morning. Then in a moment of brilliance, or bad parenting up to you, i bought a small tv for my bedroom so that they could watch, or waste their minds again up to you, preschool programming while i tended to the garden.

Now all of a sudden i find myself wanting those showers alone. My sister, who's experience as a doctor and seeing all the manicured gardens got me into this whole bikini waxing and shaving, let me know that her five year old daughter definitely noticed when things changed down there in the pubic region. Something along the lines of "mommy! you look just like me now!"

I have been avoiding letting the kids see me naked ever since i purchased stocks in venus razors and aveeno shave cream. This is a change in our house where we avoid, as much as possible, negative body image. Shane and i no matter what our inner turmoil may be have tried to model confidence and pride in our bodies. Lately though i've tried to stay wrapped up in a towel until i get undies on and demand privacy in the shower. The children? They have noticed.

So last week i decided to let it all grow back. Au naturel. So to speak. But as of this morning i couldn't take the itch any longer. The itch! It is almost worse than it was when i first did the bikini shave. Walking around scratching or with my hand down my pants is hardly acceptable on the playground.

So, this morning i wanted some privacy in the shower so that i could attend to the itch causing problems. And parker wanted in! But, he's only two. So, he got his bob the builder razor and shaved his legs and pits right along with me. We left the garden for another day.

I have had the absolutely most perfect mommy day. I really want to share it because, well, it can't be all shit right? These are the days that make it all worthwhile - all magical.

Shane is away. Funny. The perfect days often happen without him. I'm not sure if that is a result of or in spite of. Anyway he's off doing a bootcamp in seattle. Not the excercise kind - that would be funny - he's leading a bootcamp in enrollment marketing for post-secondary schools. We live an easier life without him. I find myself saying to my four kids "we're all alone tonight!" One person down out of six makes us all alone. Believe me i see the irony.

Not only did i take parker and eliza out for lunch, we all went out for dinner. Donairs! Yum. Smelly house tonight.

To backtrack, (i want to take my time here which is hard for me) after school we came home and it started to snow. Giant golfball size snowflakes. As it started to stick i told the kids that we had better go out and get supplies. Make sure the fridge was stocked because last year we were snowed in for five days without electricity. Living in an area with so many trees we often lose power for long periods during stormy weather.

So we headed off to the laughable "city" of duncan and bought some groceries and the all-important science fair stuff.

To explain that, the kids have a science fair next week and tristan is doing a project on the effects of different types of feed on the colour of egg yolks in our chickens. All cool and fun, except that with the cold weather our hens have been sporadic layers.

Then we went for the kids favourite dinner - donairs. Anything that doesn't involve the requisite kids meal of nuggets and fries is good to me, especially when parker and eliza had that for lunch. So, no dishes and cooking - twice in one day. Awesome!

When we came home the snow had sadly stopped and left behind lots and lots of ice. Tristan and i atempted to find all the chickens and put them to bed. You see, snow? It freaks the hens out. They just stop in their tracks when it starts and if night happens to fall? They go to sleep. Right there. In the woods, in the way of the car, on the little tykes cozy coupe, on the compost pile, on the trampoline. You get the idea.

Then, as it is survivor night, the night that tristan stays up late and we snuggle and laugh and share chocolate and generally catch up on where my oldest daughter is. It's not much. but it has been our night for many years now. Toby really wants in on it but we find all kinds of ways to trick him into sleep on thursday nights. We tried to get everyone to bed before 8:00.

Tonight all the kids, as we do when shane's away, are sleeping in my room. We all laid down together and i told them a story of the family with four kids; oldest, oldest middle, youngest middle and youngest, and how they drive their mom crazy and how she loves them even though they are smelly and dirty and whine and cry because they are wonderful and beautiful and perfect and joyful.

As i was telling the story, squished in between oldest (tristan) and youngest (parker), tristan rubbed my back. I tell you i was in pure blissfull heaven. Surrounded by loving children; and my daughter who knows me so well, starts rubbing my back. Perfect.

And so we watched survivor and shared forbidden nutty chocolates and now they are all asleep and i am blissfully alone enjoying some yellow tail merlot.

Which reminds me of one last thing. I've been cheating on you! I have another blog with my only friend! Christle all about wine and beer and, for now, the search for good wine under $15. You can find it here!

The biggest problem i see with shane and i's parenting style is our complete lack of respect for authority or the social structures of authority. We have trouble sticking to schedules because we just don't really care.

I was surprised to hear my sister complain and, actually be vehemently opposed, to children calling adults by their first name. I am jess to all of my kids friends and i like it. I don't feel like mrs soandso. My sister said it showed a complete lack of respect for authority. It made me wonder what kind of authority i wanted to impose over my children and, for that matter, their friends. Of course i want my kids to listen to me and respect me but i also want them to form their own opinions and feel like it's okay to see the world differently than i do. I expect when they are at their friends houses that they will treat other parents with respect and be courteous. I also expect them to be kids. I expect other parents to keep my children safe when they are under their supervision. I'm not foolish enough to think that it will always be easy or that they will always respect me (even just a little bit), but i do hope that they always feel that i respect them and will protect them.

However, all that being said we had a good old cursing party at dinner tonight. Shane swears a lot and i try to bite my tongue and probably rarely swear. But, being a child at heart i always think swearing is fun and like the calling me by my first name thing don't really see it as a big deal. We talk about how you can't swear at school or at other peoples houses. And, in all honesty, they aren't allowed to swear at home. Except when we have the swearing fun party. The word of the night tonight was "goddammit" and parker had it perfected in seconds. Screaming at the top of his lungs "GODDAMMIT!!!" It really doesn't sound that funny now and i don't know what the hell we were thinking but, oh boy, did we laugh.

Me summed up by snapshirts. Thanks to sweetney for the idea.

But, damn "amazing ass" - i sure know myself!

Apparently. Because today someone searched that on google and i won! I won! I'm a sucker and always the last to know.

So, i've seen this commercial for new and improved Wonder Bread! Now with fibre, but tastes just like the original.

When i was growing up Wonder Bread was up there with child abuse in terms of big offences for my mom. In my family mom made homemade bread - white and brown (no such thing as whole wheat), she lovingly filled her shelves with homemade jam and baked us dessert from scratch EVERY NIGHT. Plus, she had four kids too. Amazing. Wonder Bread was expensive and bad for you!

Now, in my ever-growing list of doing things i swore i'd never do, i'm considering trying this yeasty concoction that promises healthy benefits for my children. My kids won't eat whole wheat, half wheat or any wheat - just white. It all started when Eliza had a severe allergy to dairy and white bread, one particular brand, was all i could find that was suitable for her. Since then it's been a slippery non-nutritional slide to yogurt tubes, cheese sticks and white bread sandwiches in the lunch boxes.

The Wonder Bread? It entices me with it's commercial goodness. I have fond memories of a field trip to the Wonder Bread factory in grade 4. We each were given a free loaf on the way out. I remember gleefully squeezing each piece into a little ball and eating the entire loaf on the playground because i knew if i took it home it would be confiscated.

Every once in a while i take one of the kids out "on a date." I let them choose what we do. This usually involves dinner and a movie, or in eliza's case dinner and swimming.

Yesterday was toby's turn. He decided to invite parker and get some doughnuts, drive to victoria, go to every toy store and chinatown, and then go out for sushi. Huh? Okay!

We had a wonderful day together and somehow i let toby convince me that if he used his own money i really couldn't say no to his purchasing a little toy laser gun. I can't believe i said yes. I feel so used. I thought i was getting a romantic dinner with my best boys and all he wanted was a gun! But, he was so happy. I think it was worth it.

Parker was very pleased to be a part of the date. He kept saying "we're on a DATE mommy?!" "Yes parker - a DATE!"

He has spent the last three days carrying around a pair of Ernie socks i bought him during my infamous grocery shop. There's an elmo pair too. They have not yet left his cute little toes.

Tristan and toby are off on saltspring for two days. Shane and i don't want to admit it, but life is easy without them. They, the fussy fuss-asses. (This is how we spend our nights - talk of the fussy fuss-asses and how they make our lives miserable.)

Saltspring is the land of magical things - the arty, crafty grandma and the grandpa with the b.b. gun, bow 'n arrow, and sling-shot - it is the 6 year old boy and 8 year old girl dream vacation. I used to worry about the giant well in their front yard, now i worry about my son coming back with vision and my daughter even looking me in the eye once she has seen the beauty of the crafty woman. Crafty woman - see how high she flies, woo-ooo.

So, now that you are all confused i shall go to bed. My job here is done. It's not really. This was supposed to be about tristan and toby the fuss-ass eaters and how parker and eliza ate mussels in coconut curry for dinner. But, i am too tired to move my fingers, be back after sleep **insert snores here**

Because i am crazy busy; dude, i have four kids and it's christmas - need i say more? I would like to be thankful for a few things which have made me happy this year:

1. she-friends of the internet. awesome.
2. chickens that lay green eggs.
3. my canon digital rebel xt.
4. the shins, the decemberists, the mountain goats, modest mouse, death cab for cutie, the arcade fire...
5. iPod (see above) listening in the car
6. healthy children
7. high heel shoes = fun
8. six feet under, huff, rescue me, grey's anatomy
9. my new website
10. shane - because he is the one for me.

that's it. thank-you life.

C'mon and see inside my fridge! Click on the photo, you know you wanna! Our day of christmas preparations. How the hell did my mom stay so calm? Right, cocktail hour gin and tonics!

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The recipe went like this:

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

you get the idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice.

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

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