24.6 seconds of recent events

I have no time to blog. Really, none. I have all kinds of interesting things to post about (okay, only until I start typing and realize they're not so interesting) but no time to do so.

In fact, I am not entirely sure I am capable of completing a thought this week. My poor husband, who is now in his 3rd week of being home with me, is somewhat perplexed by my inability to focus on anything for for than 24.6 seconds.

He is, however, starting to comprehend that 24.6 seconds is about .356 of a second more than my children usually give me to think about anything.

Anyhow, I am - as per usual me-ness - digressing from my intended post. Because I can't type the little hobbled together bits in 24.6 seconds.

So - what I am trying to tell you is:

1) Marc got a job!!!! Woo Hoo! Yee Haw! Much cheering and jubilation. It is the job he wanted, the one he has been interviewing for since January (yes, JANUARY people!!). The one that took sooooooooooooo long to get through every step of the interview process for, the one that seemed to have another step every time we thought it was over. He has a letter and everything. With a signature. PHEW. And he starts 2 July, so we have a few more weeks before he starts.

I am so proud of him.

2) Friday is our 10th wedding anniversary. 10. Wow. So, in honour of such a momentous occasion, we are driving to Montreal on Saturday morning (early early early...), dropping the kids at my mum's and then hitting the road for Quebec City. Where we will spend 3 nights in a lovely little hotel and eat far too much food and hopefully drink even more wine. And I bet there will be lots of desert. Lots and lots of it.

This is where my short attention span is of benefit - if I could think about our trip for more than 24.6 seconds at a time I would be so excited nothing else would get done all day. Nothing.

So - on that note I am going to say goodnight. Because this post? Took way more than 24.6 seconds.

Did someone cut a few hours off the day?

Marc has now been off work for... um... 11 days.

I am loving having him home, I am thrilled with what we are getting done around the house, I am ecstatic at not having to do the school run every morning and sometimes waking up to a cup of Timmy's (French Vanilla, yum) on my night table some mornings.

Not to mention getting to hang out with my honey.

I am just trying to figure out where all the hours are going though - should my house not be tidier? Should dinner not be easier to make? Should there not be plenty of fresh fruit and veg in the fridge since I will have more time to do things like grocery shop?

Um, yeah. Not so much. My schedule? Gone right out the window. (I know - the thought that I had a schedule is hard to swallow - but really, I did...)

Oh well... this too shall pass, surely far sooner than I am ready...

Hello 4

(This post has been kicking around in my head for a few days... Julia turned 4 on Tuesday.)

Dear 4,

Nice to meet you - I actually planned to write this as an introduction letter for 3 to give you in the hand-over, but as usual I was behind schedule.

I've been thinking a lot this past week about 3... about how she was when she arrived a year ago and how she was as she was leaving. 3 had a huge year. We moved continents. She went to nursery school. She learned to stand up to her brother. She even went as far as learning how to aggravate him, which is not one of my favourite things about the past year.

They are teaching them sign language at 3's nursery school (she knew all the letters to T - that was last week's letter). She could sing the Hello song in English, French, Spanish and Korean. Yes, Korean. She even introduced her friends to the Hello song in Luxembourgish last week. They may call on you to help out with that 4.

3 learned to go to school and let Mama leave without crying. She learned how to go to friends' houses for playdates and let Mama leave without crying (at this point Mama was the one who sometimes felt like crying). She made a best friend who wasn't part of our family. She took swimming lessons and went to swimming camp over March break - alone. Without Mama, Dado or Stu.

3 liked to be carried. Liked to cuddle - something I am hoping that you do too 4, because cuddles are important. Mamas sometimes need their cuddles in the evening to make up for some of the ones we don't get during the day anymore because you are so busy out there exploring, learning, spreading your wings.

The day before you came 4 Dado built the bicycle that 3 thought you would need. It's a pink and blue and purple with white tires and training wheels. I thought it would take Dado a long time to build it, but it didn't, and 3 saw it in the driveway. She hopped right on and... off she went. As if she'd been doing it every day of her life.

That's when it really hit me that 3 was ready to go and that you, 4, were waiting in the wings to take her place. I have to admit that I felt a little weepy... 4 is so much closer to a big girl than 3, so much further from a baby. 3 was getting heavy enough that I sometimes had trouble carrying her. I am hoping to be able to carry you for a lot longer.

You'll be happy to know that 3 did a lot of work in the last couple of weeks on things like talking to people - friends of mine, other mothers at school. All of a sudden she had a voice and wanted to tell people things. I think she was shedding her shy exterior for you.

I watched 3 go to sleep for the last time and took her picture (yes, while she was sleeping, and yes, with a flash. She didn't move). I sat and watched her for a while, with her little body sprawled across the bed, her little cheeks flushed and mouth a little open. I could still see 2 and even a bit of 1 in her.

The next morning there YOU were! All bright-eyed and bushy tailed and "Hi! I'm FOUR!!!" You are a little larger than life at the moment. The excitement of being you, being 4!!! You talk as if there is an exclamation point after every word, you have had such a great few days.

I hope you enjoyed the barbecue we had on the evening after you arrived. Our neighbours, some of whom had not seen 3 much over the long cold winter commented on all the new stuff that you, 4, can do. Some of the things that I am still getting used to, now that you are here, 4.

It's going to be a big year for you. We have summer camp - this is the first summer, except for the one when 0 was around, that I will be home. I am looking forward to it (for the most part). You start soccer on Monday. You are almost finished nursery school, and you will have to say some goodbyes. You will go to swimming camp again, and karate camp.

And then in the fall you will start school. Real school, with big kids and all. You're going to take the bus and everything - something that really excited 3, and I am sure you will like too. Not sure if I will manage too well with it though.

I'm really glad you are here. You're really cool. Just remember that there's no rush to make room for 5 just yet - she won't be here for another year (no matter how many times you ask how many days until your birthday, it's still almost a year). Please enjoy being you, and let us enjoy you being exactly who you are - 4.

And remember - lots of cuddles. You're still my baby.

Lots of love,

Mama

correct me if I am wrong

I really don't want my blog to be whiny - and that it sometimes is. And I don't want to waste energy on things that aren't worth it. But I don't feel like keeping this one in.

Today I went to pick up Julia's little best friend from nursery school to take her on a field trip to see Jiggajump. I was taking her because her dad has her little brother at home too and he naps in the afternoon.

I go to pick her up. As we are leaving he says "so you should be back by 2:15?" (the show was about a 10 minute drive from their house, and the show was over at 2:00).

My reply was yes, we should be back around then - however, I had to pick Stuart up from school at 3:00 (a 20 minute drive from the event) and if for any reason the show went very late (started late, I don't know, some unforseen reason) I would have to go and get Stuart and then bring her home.

Do you think he said "oh, of course!"??

No, he said, "Oh. Well. We are only going to be here until 3:05, and then we are going to get T at his school and meet up with some friends at Dow's Lake to take some photos. If Maggie can't be there..." raised shoulders and a kind of eeesh noise " weeellllll... and then we won't be back until at least 5 for you to drop her off..."

He actually said all that in French, and it sounded even more pompous (if you can imagine that). I was a little steamed that I was doing him this favour taking her (which I was really happy to do) and here I was being given such strict "guidelines". And what on earth did he think MY 6 year old would be doing after school was over if I couldn't make it on time because I was dropping his daughter off?

I quickly left. In the end there was no problem. Jiggajump rocked. We had a blast. And I got her home by 2:15.

But I turned down his offer to go in for tea. He reiterated it twice, seemed slightly offended. In the end I said that I had an errand I needed to run and I was going to take advantage of doing it with one child instead of two.

The errand? A tall Soy Tazo Chai Tea Latte at Starbucks. It was yummy.

Bad Karma

So - I am wondering what I have done that was not... karmically balanced(?)

Stu usually has 10 dictee (spelling) words every week for his test on Friday. We get through them fine now. It (and anything written) was not always so easy.

Today he writes 1-3 on his paper. I ask what he's doing.

"It's for the 3 sentences!"

Dictee is now SENTENCES. 3 of them. One with 14 words.

I broke out the wine.

Me, the girl who's wine consumption is usually about a glass a week.

It helped.

Curiosity and the cat...

Damn Facebook.

On Sunday morning I had a friend request from an old beau. One I haven't spoken to for oh - about 14 years.

He sent a message with it, saying that I look great and how glad he was to find me.

I was very hesitant to accept his request. This was not a great love of my life. I think we saw each other, quite casually, from New Years Eve (foolish, drunken party) until I moved to Ottawa in May of the same year. He was a friend of a friend, very sweet, very... intense.

Once I'd moved I was pretty much done with the whole thing - the fact that I was looking for jobs outside of Montreal is a strong indicator that I did not feel the relationship had much future.

Still, once I had moved he called regularly. One night when there was weird reception on my phone he accused me of having a party (I was asleep, and not sure why it was really any of his business). Then there was the letter sent by UPS (where he worked) to my office that as not even in an envelope inside the UPS envelope. A very personal letter that I was very embarrassed to have a co-worker read part of before realizing it was personal and passing it on to me (I bet she actually read the whole thing, but that's neither here nor there years later).

Then, the final correspondence, which must have been close to a year after I moved (I was going out with Marc by this time) was a card from BC, where he'd ended up. Basically it said that he was happy (no thanks to me) and that he thought I should know (was I supposed to swoon in regret?) and that I'd lost my chance (dang, I was almost ready to get on a plane to follow him and beg for another chance - NOT).

So you can understand my hesitation to accept the friend request. But being me, ever so polite me, I sent him a message. I seem to be incapable of ignoring people. I said I was married, we had two great kids and that we had just moved back to Canada and that I had seen some mutual friends of ours a couple of weeks ago.

He replied almost immediately. A huge long message. Gave me all his contact details, wanted me to MSN or get n touch with him on his cell, he's available almost all the time. Wanted to know if I had married the first boyfriend I'd had in Ottawa (warning bells - does he think he was jilted for Marc?). He's divorced, his two kids are out in BC so he's staying. They don't look much like him because they are 1/2 Chinese. He's in love with some girl from Japan who was over on a student visa but had to go back, he's going to see her but it's complicated with his job, she wants to come back... etc etc etc. Very him. VERY complicated.

So, idiot that I am, I let my curiosity get the better of me and accepted the friend request. I was curious to see what his kids looked like - I am weird that way, fascinated with people's kids.

That night something happened with the Japanese girl. Don't know what, I am not asking. But a couple of times a day he has a new status. Things like "XYZ is NOT happy right now, but worse situations than this have tried to kill him in the past". There's others, they don't need to appear here, and they all just ooze... negativity.

I know, I should just delete him (and I think I will), but I am so concerned with hurting people's feelings. I just don't need all the negative energy.

Some people are best left in the past.

Parlez-vous?

School starts for Julia this fall. Junior Kindergarten, in a real school.

When we were moving back from Luxembourg I was quite adamant that Stu go to a French school. Unfortunately the Catholic board would not let us in which left us with the French Board. The French school for our area left me cold though - or rather their website did. It hadn't been updated for 3 years - and made reference to their goal (for the next 3 years) of getting their provincial scores up to the standard. Not great self promotion.

And so Stu ended up in the local public school, in the French Immersion programme. Overall we are very happy with the school. I am not convinced as to the consistent standard of French in the school (despite having a French Principal), but for now it's okay.

So I have to say I have been a little surprised at the reactions of some of the parents I have talked to about Junior Kindergarten - or rather French Immersion starting in Senior Kindergarten.

There are 4 "tracks" in our school board at the moment - English, Early French Immersion (starts in SK), Middle French Immersion (Grade 4 start) and Late French Immersion that starts in Grade 7.

Late French Immersion has been canned this year. They are going to accept kids for the next 2 years who missed Middle Immersion, and then it's done.

I've met several people who are putting their kids in an English stream. As in English with 20 minutes of French a day. They seem quite determined that this is in the best interests of their children, that starting with a new language a year after starting school is too difficult.

Now, it may just be that I went through the French Immersion system (without a year of JK to acclimatize me to school) in Qebec and think I turned out pretty well. Or that I lived in a country where kids learn 4 languages before they finish high school - and quite often have others at home. I'm not claiming they speak all perfectly, but I find this a wee bit short-sighted, this English only idea.

I admit - I have done no research on the effects of a second language at the age of 5. But what I have noticed since we've been home? Ottawa is really REALLY French now.

Ottawa, as our Nation's Capital, is home to most of the Federal Government. You can't throw a rock down the street without hitting a federal employee - they are the largest employer by far in this town. And as a county we have 2 official languages, French and English. So all those federal employees? Should be able to speak both.

I've heard lots of civil servants complaining (in the 8 months I've been home) about how they are getting passed over for jobs because they don't speak French. Or that they can't pass the French tests to get the right combination of letters on their profile. Since Marc's been working for DFAIT it seems like half the government is going off on intensive French training. Weeks on end (usually in Quebec City, that's rough) to perfect their French.

I've been thinking that given the need for French that by the time my kids are looking for employment they will need a 3rd language to set them apart. French won't be the bonus it was for me when I went out into the work force. I was all for Stu taking German lessons Saturday morning to hang on to any Germanic language structure he has in his head. He didn't see things quite the same way.

People are hesitant to put their kids in if they don't speak perfect French themselves. How will they help them learn? they say. Middle Immersion will be soon enough I am hearing.

This confuses me. They're worried about not being able to help their kids deal with learning French in Senior Kindergarten, when they're learning things like simple vocabulary and basic math. That stuff is just too hard.

No, it's a much better idea to start it when they are starting Grade 4. When they can help with homework - oh wait, probably not.

I know, my opinion is weighted by my bilingualism. It's "easy" for me. But why is it easy for me? Because I started to learn French before I realized that school can be hard.

It just seems to me that this attitude, in this pretty little small minded town, is indicative of some of what is wrong in this country.

Come on people, it's a language.

Okay, here's me, getting off my soap box now.

6th sense

Julia has had all day to go to the bathroom. It is now 12:48 and she has been up for 5 1/2 hours.

But she has chosen now, now when we need to leave for nursery school and an appointment for me (I rarely have appointments) to do her business.

I am down here typing instead of hovering, instead of giving her some sort of complex about the toilet.

Because I am frustrated. It's been one of those mornings, the ones where getting her anywhere is like dragging a small (or not so small) dog on a leash when it doesn't want to go for a walk.

And the talking. The TALKING. Non stop. Sans cesse! Elle n'arrete pas!!

Her beautiful little voice? Is making me crazy today.

Maybe it's because she's barking orders at me and demanding every second of my attention.

And now that I have vented I will go upstairs and be sweet, loving, nurturing... and try to get her off the toilet.

How glamorous my life has become ;-)

Happy Birthday to me

I should be asleep (as it is after midnight) but I find that birthdays get you thinking.

Thinking about life, where you are, where you were this time last year, the year before, 5 years ago.

Last year? Marc was in Seville and the kids and I had a lovely evening on the terrasse of the Pizza Hut on Route d'Arlon. It was unseasonably hot and I was in a sleeveless dress. My good friend Edith came over afterwards and we sat out on the huge balcony off our bedroom and drank wine. It was a good birthday, with the exception of the absent husband.

2 years ago? Hmmm. Not so clear (terrible I know, it was a stressful time at work).

3 years ago? My mum was over and Marc and I went - sans enfants for the first time since Stu was born - for an overnight trip to Troyes in the Champagne region. Stayed in a beautiful old hotel, visited some champagne cellars, stumbled upon Rembrant's studio (at his summer house) quite by chance.

4 years ago we did the mailrun up to the base at GK to get the mail. I was 8 months pregnant with Julia and thought I would never get out of the car by the end of the trip.

5 years ago we had the best aupair in the world living with us.

6 years ago? I took my friend Jenny to Belgium to sign the plans for her new house while her husband was out of town. Then we went to Puccinella's for lunch. The house turned out amazing.

7 years ago? In Vienna, suffering from morning sickness and very disappointed that it was snowing on Easter weekend. If you haven't heard it already ask Marc sometime about our asparagus risotto incident.

8 years ago I was in Amsterdam, staying in a sweet little hotel and crying in my wine at an Irish pub (they really are everywhere) because I was turning 30 and I had no job, no friends and it wasn't exactly where I thought I would be in life. The move to Luxembourg was a little hard on me. Of course looking back now I see how foolish I was, so free. What I wouldn't give today for 2 nights in Amsterdam with Marc, some croquettes and a couple of dishes of poffertjes!

Today (or rather yesterday, since I am being nocturnal)was good. My mum came on Tuesday. The morning started with Marc wishing me Happy Birthday and me burying my head under the pillow (my body seems to think I am on pacific time). Stu then came bounding up the stairs to give me my present. We got up, got ready. Julia was fast asleep but came thumping down the stairs and demanded "What time is it??" (she was still half asleep) and when she found out it was morning grinned and thrust my present at me.

I got some lovely gifts - another Tudor book to fuel my obsession, some great paper goods to help make keeping track of those household jobs easier (poor Marc!), an adorable raincoat, and... a pink iPod.

My mum and I spent some lovely time in the Glebe in the sun, and tomorrow we are heading to the Canal Ritz (thanks to my stepdad) to have a girlie lunch while Stu is at school and Jools has a playdate - so we're stretching things out.

And now I have 2 minutes of battery on this laptop so I must stop rambling...

Spring has sprung

Saturday Marc went out to pick up a new barbecue. It's very handsome (far too masculine to be pretty) and I am suitably intimidated by it.

He is out there now, grilling up some steak for us, burgers for the kids A whole other post would be "How the barbecue got my kids to eat!!" because last night for dinner? Stuart had two hamburgers, Julia a whole one. Thick ones to boot. Seriously. I sense a lot of grilling in our lives.

The barbecue is still in the garage as the backyard is still under about 4 feet of snow. But he's out there in the driveway, kids playing on the snow banks.

Ah there's nothing like the smell of sweet spring... barbecues...

A-ha moment

Overheard in our house this evening:

Me: "Harumph umph urgle schnoo"

Marc: "Julia, why is your Groovy Girl in Mummy's face? She can't talk."

Julia: "Because she LOVES Mama SOOOOOO MUCH. She's giving her kisses. Mama, I love you, kiss kiss kiss."

Me: "I'm going to have an extra large uterus installed. With doors" (hand gesture to indicate doors swinging freely) "so they can climb back in whenever they want. I give up."

Marc: "Kind of like a Kangaroo pouch?"

Me: "That's IT! Our children are marsupials!!!"


I am so glad they love me. Really. I'm just a little concerned some days that they will smother me (literally) in my sleep.

he said/she said

I have a happy post in my head. About Spring, and friends, and family.

But it can't get to you, can't get out of my head, because I am busying listening to the duelling offspring that are my adored babies.

She said she doesn't love me...

He said I can't go in his room...

All in a pitch that is making neighbourhood dogs curl up under a large piece of furniture and whimper.

I have had a few days lately when I've thought "I can't do this." The whole stay at home mother thing.

Not that I have delusions that they wouldn't do it if I worked.

I just wouldn't have to hear it all the live long day.

60 minutes

On Saturday at 8 pm we took an hour and turned everything off in the house.

We came late to the idea (I had no idea it was Earth Hour until 5 pm) and we weren't exactly ready for it, so as Marc was out buying season one of the Tudors (yes, the obsession runs deep) the kids and I ran around unplugging things or turning off power bars.

Then we lit some candles - 8 to 9 pm is bedtime in our house. We read bedtime stories by candlelight. Made animal shapes on the walls. And talked about the earth and things we can do to help protect it.

I suggested that we do this more than once a year. Marc thought once a month was good. Stu however decided that it really wasn't - according to him we need to do it once a week.

So, we will be unplugging once a week.

You go my young environmentalist.

I would post but...

I am busy reading "The Other Boleyn Girl" with what I can only describe as an obsessive interest.

Marc brought it home from D.C. last week - purchased at the Borders (hello Lisa! made me think of you!) in the airport, and he had read 100 pages on the plane.

We've been reading it in turns - well more like I read it when he's not home. Or when he watches movies I have rented for him.

While making dinner tonight (shepherds pie) I caught myself wondering how I could read and cook at the same time. Peeling potatoes while reading? Not easy.

Tonight? He's gone out virtual golfing (or whatever it's called).

My first thought?

I get the book.

Seen on the back of a car

Bumper sticker reading:

IF IT'S NOT FUN, WHY DO IT??

Hmmmm.

Maybe not to be applied to everything in life, but certainly needs some consideration in mine.

An airport is an airport

The kids and I went to pick Marc up at the airport today. On our way there I realized I hadn't been in the Ottawa airport for almost 9 years, and that I had no idea where anything was, or what the airport looked like.

Well turns out the airport hasn't been waiting for me to come back and visit... it's had a huge facelift and - well - does not resemble the airport I left from on my honeymoon in the least.

I was saying to the kids that I am far more familiar with the Brussels airport, and Montreal when we pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. And I was hit with a sense of being just about anywhere.

Do all airports look the same these days? Huge, impersonal? We could have been nearly anywhere (except Luxembourg, with it's teeny tiny airport... I wonder how the construction is going on the new terminal...)

And on another note I took Marc from the airport to a clinic. Actually I took him to 3 clinics, but the first two were closed even though their opening hours said they should be open.

Verdict? He has a sinus infection. Poor love, he looks and sounds awful. Stuart has perked up considerably, but Julia is still a pitiful sight. She has not eaten all day (luckily she is drinking) and thrown up her Tylenol twice. Or is it 3 times? I am so lost at this point.

Looks like Easter Dinner at my house might be a no go.

Bummer. Oh well, there's always next year!

Things not to do on a Friday night

Looking for something to do on a Friday night? Here's what I would advise against:

- check your sleeping preschooler's temperature at 5:20 pm. Realize it's 40.1C (or 104 F) and call telehealth.
- while waiting for the nurse from telehealth to call you back google high temperatures.
- spend 20 minutes on the phone with telehealth only to be told when she hears your daughter's cough through the phone that you need to get her to a clinic. Luckily the telehealth nurse is really nice.
- throw together a few things for a long wait at the clinic and get the kids in the car.
- get to the clinic and listen to the nurse tell you the wait is on average 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Worry that contents of bag will not suffice.
- spend the better part of two hours on a vinyl chair with a 40lb preschooler who is burning up with fever draped over you.
- stand and be glad that you are wearing dark coloured cotton because you are soaking wet.
- have both your children check by the very very nice doctor, who proclaims that Julia has mild strep and is bordering on pneumonia and that Stuart (you know, the one you thought was better) has strep as well.
- Feel like a completely incompetent mother for having such sick children. Feel free to insert this step at any point in the evening, preferably repeatedly.
- take the kids and their prescriptions to Wal-Mart (something you have never done before and will never do again) because you figure that you can treat them to cruising the toy aisles in the cart while you wait for their prescriptions, which is better than pulling them off the aisles at the pharmacy.
- try not to cry when you see the millions of people in Wal-Mart the night before Good Friday (because the store is actually closing for a day - what ever will they do??)
- hand in the prescription and be impressed when she tells you to come back for it in 35 minutes. (You will regret this)
- cruise the aisles, pick up some milk and some impulse storage (if that is one of your weaknesses, otherwise feel free to substitute with something more appropriate.)
- head back to the pharmacy counter to have the woman laugh out loud when you ask for your prescription.
- cruise some more and be horribly horribly aware that the people who are in your Wal-Mart at this time of day are not people you would want to meet anywhere else and realize that you may be a snob.
- realize that you are now sweating profusely and that taking off your clothes in Wal-Mart is not an option.
- finally get your prescription 1 hour and 20 minutes after you drop it off.
- try not to scream when they tell you that you now need to wait for "counselling" from the pharmacist (how hard is 2 tsp a day????) despite the fact that it is now after 9pm and you have a screaming, sick 3 year old in your cart.
- make a valiant effort not to club the pharmacist when he knows nothing about the medication, and is muttering so bad that you are trying to coax out of him if the medication is to be taken BEFORE or AFTER a meal and he keeps muttering something that could be with or without (I am usually very open minded about people of different ethnic origin than I am. But tonight his manner and the fact that his English was not good was nearly a breaking point).
- tell children you will not be waiting in line to buy the things in your cart because it's a zoo.
- concede to stand in line for the Fairy Book and Marvel Comics you have agreed to buy.
- jam your hand in the cart while putting in storage thingy, and completely bend ring from Greece into your finger.
- get kids back in car, head home.
- try not to say "Oh S___! It's garbage night!!" at the top of your lungs when heading down your street and doing the slalom between the garbage bags (since we still have a barely passable street)
- bribe children with special treats to fill their tummies so you can force horrid medicine down their throats.
- DON'T think "well at least no one has thrown up"
- clean up vomit that showed up about 2 minutes after the above thought that you should never have had.
- get medicine in them
- put them in the bath
- type a blog when you should be attending their every need (you are however perched on the toilet typing).
- hope that today will soon be over.

and last but not least - Realize that it's not even Friday. You can't even get the title of your post right.

yeah, not so much

I had the foolish idea that the kids would give me a few minutes to blog.

Yeah, not so much.

We have survived March Break (even had a nice time) and are now living through the flu. Poor Stu had a fever that knocked him out from Friday afternoon until this morning.

And yes, he is still home. He is not eating, I didn't think it was necessary - for anything other than my sanity - to sent him back until tomorrow.

You know, since my sanity isn't really an issue. Just a figment of my imagination. Like an imaginary friend... hey, there's a thought, I can have "pre-kids Tracy" as my imaginary friend.

I have to go now. Stu, while too sick to go to school, is not too sick to torment his sister. Julia, who is not yet sick, is working her way up on the fever meter and is cranky.

They have a plan my kids. I bet if I were to ransack Stu's room I would find some complicated calculations on when he had to pass the germs to Julia in order to have their illnesses fall one after the other (without a break for sleeping for SDP - Sleep Deprived Mum) without actually overlapping.

This morning he even licked his hand and dragged it across my cheek (why??? I have NO clue??). I admit I recoiled and asked him not to give me his germs. Since Dad's away and if Mum comes down with it who will cook dinner etc etc etc. He had the decency to look appalled at the thought of me ill. I could see his plans for world domination by means of the flu virus falling apart before his eyes.

Of course I didn't mention my aching head and my conviction that someone is sticking a knife into my ear a couple of times an hour when I am not paying attention.

Marc left at 5:30 on Sunday morning. When he gets home on Friday I am confiscating his passports. Both of them.

Because every time he leaves, they get sick.

And now, I am really going. Because Julia can't possibly blow her nose alone.

I am not alone

We woke up this morning to more freezing rain and a ton of snow... the wind whips around the corner and builds huge drifts on our driveway. This morning I could barely open my car door.

The roads are awful... I've decided that Julia can miss nursery school because the 15 minute drive will turn into a half hour, or longer.

The woman I deliver the milk with (the woman who does most of the work, getting the milk into bags while I am at reading group with Julia) had the school secretary call to tell me not to come, she would do all the deliveries - bless her!

I love a good snow day (though not in March), but Julia is going non-stop this morning. She's still hanging on to the last bits of her cold, but it's not stopping her from talking, talking, talking...

I escaped to the bathroom (sorry, too much information) for a moment's peace.

But as usual, I was not alone.

I used to laugh at stories of men sequestering themselves in the bathroom... now I understand.

I am longing for Spring, to get out of the house. Let's hope this is the lion of March who will soon give way to the lamb.

And now - I must go and listen to Julia. Because she insists, and I am charmed by her imagination, and she is adorable.

Loud, but adorable.

It's just wrong

Marc went to see a hockey game while he was in Florida. Panthers vs the Leafs - Leafs won in a shoot out in OT.

In telling us a bit about the game, he told us that - hang on to your seats hockey fans - there were CHEERLEADERS.

Yes, Cheerleaders.

He was sitting next to a guy from Alberta and he turned to ask him "Um, what are those?"

Guy replied shaking his head. "Yeah, they're uh - cheerleaders."

The "Ice Dancers" are the Florida Panthers... cheerleaders.

I admit, I am appalled. This is not what hockey is about to me. It's bad enough that we have pop music blaring now in every arena instead of the good old organ and Stompin' Tom, but cheerleaders? In itty bitty outfits - Hello?? Hockey arenas are supposed to be COLD. You know - the ICE for SKATING and all? And gold pom poms?? What the...?

Let me share with you "5 Things you should know about Melanie" (one of the Ice Dancers in high heeled white patent leather boots):

1) Melanie is a huge sports fanatic. She loves football, basketball, NASCAR and of course, hockey! (My comments - wow! I bet if she could be a football or basketball cheerleader she'd forget she ever saw a hockey game. And is NASCAR really a sport?)

2) She loves to travel. She has been to dozens of countries and hopes to travel even more. (My comment : has she been to Canada? Where you need to wear CLOTHES and sip Timmy's at hockey games?)

3) She grew up in a small Texas town - playing hide and seek in the corn fields and catching tadpoles in the creek. (What can I say? She caught tadpoles! Wow! Now shake your booty honey! Keep those hockey fans in the arena until the end of the game!)

4) Even though she's from Texas she has a talent that you wouldn't think a Texas girl would have. She can snow ski! She's been skiing since she could walk and she can ski down pretty much anything! (my comments - phew - I am so glad they explained that she skis DOWN things! I was scared she'd been cross country skiing through the cornfields or something. As for the skiing down anything - how about the side of the arena? The Empire State building? Has she skied down the Eifel Tower in her travels to dozens of countries? Oh. She means she can ski down just about any SLOPE... duh, silly me.)

5) A quote she lives by is - "Live life to the fullest, with no regrets!" (I have no comment. I am too mesmerized by her Fake & Bake tan and sparkling white teeth.)

Have I mentioned I am appalled. Yup, I guess I have.

Cathie - even you must want the Leafs to win against a team with cheerleaders!

Watching for headlights

Marc is on his way home from the airport. He called, he is back in Ottawa after a much delayed flight. Thankfully it was a direct flight. We've had too many trips that ended with delays resulting in missed connecting flights.

It has been snowing here all day. The driveway is ridiculous again. The road that they finally cleared on Thursday - so that is was actually wide enough to drive down - has been plowed again and guess what? You can hardly tell they took away truck loads of snow 2 days ago. Poor Marc coming back to this.

We went to A's birthday party - so good to get out of the house. Though I must ask - do girls birthday parties have a whiny pitch? My poor head... there was one little girl who sat there making a high pitch noise the entire time she played. Her mother seemed oblivious.

When we got home the plow had been by. I cringed at the mounds of snow in our neighbours driveways as I came down the road. Miraculously ours was empty.

Johnny from next door had cleaned it for me. He's awesome. I am so glad we sent him cake the other day.

Right now life looks pretty good. Now where's that taxi?

A-ha moment

Earlier this evening, when changing yet another roll of toilet paper, it dawned on me where all the TP is going.

They're on to me and my Jessica Seinfeld cookbook.

And are eating toilet paper instead.

It explains the ability to exist on a marshmallow and a juice box for days on end - even though served with lovingly prepared, nutritious meals.

Ha! They just think they've won! Wait till I make my own toilet paper with vegetables... nyahahahaha!

(Do you think I might be taking this whole healthy eating thing too far? Or maybe that I just need to go to bed?)

Cracking

I am blogging for my sanity at this moment in time.

Marc left for Fort Lauderdale at 5:30 on Sunday morning. Right now I still have 46.5 hours until he gets back.

Julia has been sick all week. Not the kind of sick where she does something productive like SLEEP, but the kind where I know she feels like crap. Hard not to when she's stuck on whine/cry/produce vast quantities of snot/whine/cry setting.

How's Stu you ask? Well he's taking his future career as a police informer very seriously. He tells on EVERYTHING. I get to hear every minute detail of her every infraction. While I was typing this he opened the basement door and shouted "Mum SHE..." to which I bellowed "GO UPSTAIRS!! I WILL BE UP IN TWO MINUTES!" Je continued to talk, just louder. Because that will change my mind.

Julia just opened the door to tell me Stuart desperately needs me. Yeesh. I would count how many hours it has been since I had a moment of SILENCE, but it would depress me. Night-time? you ask, Surely you must get a break.

Oh no. Nights are for coughing, waking up and screaming the house down because we didn't have desert 8 hours before (Julia) and nightmares (Stu) that mean we have to sleep on our mother.

I was fine until this aft... coasting along through this lo-o-o-o-o-ng week, thinking we were doing fine.

Then BOOM - I hit pissed off. Fed up.

I would tell you more but my son is apparently writing in pain. And my daughter has told me so 3 times.

I'm going to have to add a donate button for their future therapy

Maybe in the driveway?

Since we moved home I have gained weight at an alarming rate. I've been pretty much one weight since I met my husband - with the exception of two pregnancies and that weird period after I stopped nursing Stu and gained a ton of weight.

About a month or so ago I got on the scale and realized that I was a pound under the weight I was the day I gave birth to Stu. I took a deep breath. And thought that I had a kilo and a half to go before I hit the weight I was when I gave birth to Julia.

Tonight, spurred on by my mother's comment last week that I had lost weight (which I probably gained back late last week eating my way through a cold), I got out the scale while the kids were in the tub.

And gasped.

I had gained 1/2 a kilo. A pound. I was getting close to breaking my all time high.

A few hours later I was lying here in bed, trying to go to sleep. The gerbil in my brain - the one that runs around keeping me awake at night - brought up the very good point (or so I thought) that the scale has always been a bit funny and that maybe I should try weighing myself somewhere else.

So I tried my bedroom floor. Lost 1.2 kilos - instantly. Hmm. Maybe it was all clothes?

Tried the bathroom again. I'd gained 1/2 a kilo in 2 hours...?

On to the carpet in the hallway. Nope, there was an extra 1/2 kilo there too! I was up to a whole kilo over my previous reading.

Then the gerbil said "Well, it was on ceramic tile in Luxembourg - go try the ceramic tile!"

Now, the only place in our house with ceramic tile is by the front door. That has a window next to it. So there I was, standing in my teeny tiny pj's, trying not to touch the freezing cold tile and hoping none of the neighbours were out walking their dogs to witness my antics.

Oh wait! I bet they can't see over our 8 foot snow banks!

The ceramic tile brought me back to 1/2 a kilo over my first weigh-in. Sigh. I turned the scale 90 degrees - no change.

So I tried the kitchen. Nope, same reading. Turned it around - same thing.

What about the hallway? YEAH! I just got down 1.3 kilos from my first reading of the night!

So - if you ever come to my house and find the scale in the hallway by the kitchen... hop on, it seems to be the optimum places to weigh yourself.

And if you see the gerbil that runs around in my head, shoot the little monster.

(Can you tell I am tired? My insomnia is really bad the last few days.)

cake

Today we baked a chocolate cake. To celebrate my father's birthday, though I didn't tell the kids that.

They were quite perplexed as to why I stuck a sparkler in it. Apparently that was all that piqued their curiosity - don't get the wrong idea, I rarely bake cakes.

Anyhow - it was my little way of celebrating my father. Last year I was overcome by his birthday - one of the few times I used to call him. And rarely got him. I baked a cake last year, out of feeling awful, and I suppose out of grief.

I felt fine all day, until the sparkler went out on the cake. And I started to think about how my dad would have been 65 today. Dying at 63 sounds so young. It is so young. And so sad, especially because so much of it was self-inflicted. I see the sad life he led, now that I don't have to protect myself with anger.

I mentioned to my best friend yesterday that today was my dad's birthday (we've been friends for 30 years, she is one of my few friends who knew my dad) and she asked if I was okay.

"Yeah," I said, "I'm going to bake a cake."

She looked at me very strangely. Then said "I've never heard of that."

Her father died when she was 12. He was so young, it was such a shock, it was 4 days before Christmas. (I clearly remember when we got the call, that I was eating peas, and for once my father was home for dinner. I remember sitting on his lap and crying. I think that might be the last time I ever sat on his lap. I was 11.)

She said she usually focusses on the day he died. Marking it in some way. But that it is a sad thing, and hard to do amidst all the holiday cheer.

She's going to celebrate his birthday from now on. And bake him a cake.

After we'd had our cake tonight I sent Stu to both our sets of neighbours with a huge piece of cake. He was so proud of himself for delivering it. And now I won't eat it all...

6 months

6 months ago today we arrived back in Ottawa.

It was our second day in Canada - well not even second really as we had arrived late afternoon the day before. A long and emotional day - long with flights (though a nice stop over in Amsterdam), but emotional leaving Luxembourg. I can still remember the incredulous feeling of being on the bus to the airport with all our suitcases as we drove through the Grund.

But I don't want to go there tonight.

What I do want to do is try and figure out if we feel established. We had it from some very good sources that it takes 6 months to settle, and feel back at home in your own country.

At the time it seemed an insurmountable feet - to feel out of place for 6 months??? Geez. But back then everything felt wrong - and a lot of things were going wrong. Mostly contracting stuff with the house (oh the stories) and it felt like we were struggling day to day - 6 months was a hideously long time.

And now it is here. And it has gone so quickly.

I don't know how settled I feel. I wish there were a test I could take that would give me a percentage based on my answers. My usual wish about most things - give me a test, tell me the numbers... a constant reminder that I am the daughter of an actuary, and that everything in life should come down to a mathematical equation ("Ah!" you say, "now I understand").

There are parts of me that are thrilled to be home. Last week, it must have been Wednesday, I was leaving our community centre/library and I caught myself thinking how happy I was to be home, and to be able to be a stay at home mother. Really - I had that moment.

I love that the kids are taking swimming lessons - and that it's easy to do here. I love the community centre and their programs. I love the free reading groups at the library (that I would willingly pay for). I love Julia's nursery school. I love our neighbours, and the great bond we have developed with them. I love having my best friend a 20 minute drive away, and that my kids love her. I love being able to hop in the car and go to my mum's for a day (and I live in eternal hope that spring will one day arrive, so every time we plan something with my mother it's not "tentative, let's see if it snows")

And there are things I don't love. Shovelling has lost it's cachet. I miss the culture of Europe - but that is partly my fault, I live a very narrow life in some ways at the moment, tied to my Mom Schedule. I miss silly things, like coffee. We had some Nespresso at my neighbour's birthday party last weekend and I thought "oh yeah, that's what it's supposed to taste like."

I desperately miss the olives from Del Haize. Yes, they deserve their own little paragraph. They were delicious.

I miss being an ex-pat. I don't really know how to explain what I mean by that. I miss being able to be somewhere else and knowing if I didn't like it I could always come home. Sounds ridiculous, I know. And I think I miss being a bit "different". Canadians in Luxembourg are not run of the mill - here I am just another Canadian. Somehow I felt more national pride there than I do here.

And of course there are the people I miss, but I will be in tears if I go down that road.

I think one of the big factors in not feeling settled is that Marc's employment future is still unclear. I didn't expect that 6 months into this adventure. He has a few things that look good, and now I am wondering if it's going to be a case of not raining but pouring. But it does have both of us feeling uneasy at the moment. And just kind of not permanent. Though in retrospect we did the same things for the first 18 months in Luxembourg, going 6 month contract to 6 month contract. I seem to remember hating it then too.

So - 6 months in. I am not settled. I don't think I know what would make feel settled though. I do know that every day takes me farther away from what our lives were. I try not to focus on that, because that life was far from perfect - at least for us.

Maybe I should just let my brain rest on this one. I'll check in again on myself at 9 months.

Zen...

My husband is amazing. For Valentine's Day he got me a 1/2 day at the salon where I got my new "do" a few weeks back. They had a special running - manicure, pedicure, aromatherapy facial and hour-long relaxation body massage.

I've just come home and I am so zen I made about 5 typos in the above sentences.

At first I wasn't sure how it was all going to turn out (I had called to add on some waxing so we started with that - ouch!). The girl was very young, very sweet and very... vocal? I know a little bit too much about her home life and things like how you can catch herpes even if you use a condom (tried desperately to steer the conversation back from there... how on earth did we get there???)

But once my waxing, hands and feet were done (and she did a great job!!) the facial started. In the quiet, and mostly in the dark. It was pretty darn cool. She spritzed me with some wonderful smelling stuff and rubbed in cream and put pads on my eyes that cooled them (and shrunk my dark circles...) And then the massage... sigh.

I think I might be too zen to write. Words... not... coming... easily... typos... galore...

Marc also let me go back to bed for two hours this morning... I'm gonna keep him.

Not that there was any doubt.

Spargel

The other day they had some bunches of asparagus at the store. I served mine for dinner tonight.

In Europe, or at least the part we lived in, asparagus is a huge thing - almost as big as "Les Moules sont arrives!" (the mussels have arrived).

Last year for my birthday we went to Baden-Baden for the weekend. During "spargel" season. There was asparagus on pretty much every menu we saw. We drove by road-side stall after road-side stall selling bunches for 5 euros.

On the way there we laughed at the signs - I mean, it's just asparagus right?

We had a great weekend... it was beautiful and sunny, warm for April. The trees were all in full bloom - oh how I will miss European spring this year!

With the exception of Marc's girlfriend Betty (his GPS) trying to direct us through a fountain onto a pedestrian street, nothing went wrong. We ate well, saw a beautiful town, did a bit of shopping (my Thomas Sabo charm bracelet... sigh).

On the Sunday we went to the Lowenbrau Biergarten for lunch. It was my first visit to a beer garden (I don't need to tell you it wasn't Marc's - do I?). Our waiter wore Leidehosen.We sat out in the beautiful sun, under a blue and white striped umbrella. We nibbled on salty Bretzels (big doughy pretzels) while we waited for our lunch.

Mine was : asparagus. The best asparagus I have EVER had. It was served rolled up in a very light egg-y crepe and smothered in a buttery bechamel sauce (so good it was worth the dairy intolerance!!).

My mouth waters just thinking about that meal. All the way home we looked out for a SPARGEL sign to lead us to a stall. But they were all closed - not much goes on Sundays in those parts.

Anyone heading to Baden-Baden? Can you go eat some Spargel for me? (Cathie - I'm looking at you!!)

mea culpa

Stuart has been having bad dreams all week. And getting into bed with us, which leaves us all tired and cranky.

I thought it was the snakes that he had seen at the Ecomuseum on Monday. Turns out I was wrong.

This morning he came and got back into his bed (where I fled to at some point in the night) and told me he hadn't slept ALL NIGHT.

Eventually - quite possibly due to my own exhaustion - I decided that missing a morning of Grade 1 would not end his academic career.

To my shock he stayed in bed. He did not get out. He seemed to be lying there trying to sleep (although on closer examination I found a Senators program and a little board game under his pillow). He didn't even venture downstairs until after 10:30 when I was talking to my mum on the phone.

She spoke to him to try and figure out what was bothering him.

He got back in bed. I went in and checked again for signs of a fever, poked and prodded his stomach a bit. Asked again if something was wrong at school. There isn't. But...

He started talking about Meet the Robinsons that we watched on Saturday night. Turns out that he is worried that will happen to him. "What?" you ask?

That his mother will leave him at an orphanage because she can't take care of him. And that he will be adopted by someone nasty.

It gets better. He is coming into our bed at night to see if I am still there and because he is worried that I will carry him out of his bed and drop him at an orphanage while he sleeps. Without waking him.

I didn't tell him he was being ridiculous. I didn't make light of this accusations, which would have helped deflect the sting of his fears. I told him that I love him. That I promise I can take care of him, and that when I say "I can't do this anymore!" that I am referring to things like dragging him out of the house morning after morning, cleaning up his room or refereeing the daily sibling bickering.

I also pointed out that if, and that's a big IF people, I couldn't take care of him - well he's got an awesome Dad. And two sets of Grandparents who love him. And and Aunt and Uncle... and various godparents... that he's not going to end up in an orphanage, he is too loved and wanted for that.

Let's hope it sticks. Otherwise I will have to start pulling out logic, like if I wanted to get rid of him I wouldn't be doing things like pureeing veggies to hide in his food in hopes that he is getting enough nutrients when he won't eat well. Or that when I beg him to go to sleep at night it's so that he grows up healthy and strong.

Not to mention that IF I was going to get rid of him I would probably try and get some cash for him to finance a nice Carribean cruise.

That was a joke. A sick joke. But I guess I better stop with the jokes about selling them on ebay.

Dilemma, dilemma...

So... my daughter is quite the social butterfly for a little girl who has lived in this country a little under 6 months.

She has been invited to two birthday parties on March 1st. At pretty much the same time.

And now I have a dilemma. Which is this:

The first invitation is for a little girl A. A's older brother is a friend of Stuart's and is in his class. He came to Stu's birthday, they hang out, they are starting to go to Beavers together. A is becoming friends with Julia, they made each other sweet valentines and I had to change Julia's registration for JK to mornings (we had chosen afternoons) because A is going in the morning. And she HAS to go to school with A.

I accepted invitation 1 this afternoon after school.

The second invitation came picking up Julia from nursery school. It was not a formal one, though the cards are on their way tomorrow apparently. And it's for M's birthday. Now M is Julia's BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WORLD. She loves her. M loves Julia. They have great playdates. Party 2 is going to be (if they have stuck to the plan that was vaguely referred to about 6 weeks ago) about 1/2 hour out of town in the country. With a horse. Because M loves horses.

Hmmm. You may be asking what my problem is. Well, as usual I am over thinking the entire thing.

On one hand I want Julia to go to party #1 because - wait for it, here comes the slew of reasons, in no particular order - Stu has been invited to come along if he wants (he does), I think it would be good for Julia to meet other little ones from our neighbourhood, the mother of this child had Julia over for a play-date on a weeknight so I could go to Parents night at Beavers with Stu (Marc was away) - all of these are things I want to cultivate. The fact is I can see us having a lot to do with this family over the next few years.

And yet... I feel badly if Julia misses her best friend's party. At the same time realizing that M is starting full day JK next year and I am not sure if we will be able to get together much.

I know. Too much thought. I am sure my parents never deliberated this much over my social life when I was going on 4!

(P.S. - this isn't going to keep me up, I'm not taking it THAT seriously!!)

Family Day

We have a new holiday in Ontario - Family Day, the 3rd Monday in February.

This was the first one - they still have to work out some kinks in the system. A healthy portion of Ottawa and the surrounding area works for the federal government and was not off - but all schools and daycares (and day care providers) had the day off.

As you can imagine there was a lot of grumbling (what? from federal employees? Never!).

Marc did not have the day off (though he ended staying home in the end with a terrible cold). So I decided that I would take the kids to Montreal to hang out with - FAMILY. Kind of fitting for Family Day, no?

We left yesterday just before lunch because of the freezing rain that was forecast for the afternoon. We made it in plenty of time, with time to spare to go to the mall (Fairview for those of you in the know) to hit the H&M.

Yes, H&M, I was in heaven. I love H&M. I spent an indecent amount of money on clothes we probably don't need. But I love their kids clothes - how could I resist buying Stu a shirt that looks like a knight's chain mail (spelling? I am too tired to dictionary that) with coats of arms?

H&M fix finished (well, as finished as I could get) we rented movies, hung out at my mum's, had dinner, had another knitting lesson, watched Pride & Prejudice on Masterpiece Theatre. It was great.

This morning when Julia got up at 5:40 (???) I got up with her but went back to bed around 7 for an hour or so - hearing her playing with my Mum's Matroushka dolls and talking to my mum. I heard my mum take them down for breakfast and then come back up with a cup of tea for me. Sometimes all you need is your mum to take care of you.

After a visit to the notary (my father's never ending estate) we went to the European Bakery, picked up treats and went to visit my Opa. I see how much he ages between every visit - even Stuart commented today that Opa seemed older than at Christmas. At almost 91 he is in good shape, but so frail. I make sure to tell him I love him before I leave - I am dreading the day when we can't visit anymore, even if he can't really hear us too well, or is losing track of some things (though he can tell you all about Brian Mulroney's latest legal problems!!)

We had a quick lunch at my Mum's and headed out to the Ecomuseum that is part of MacDonald College. Ran the kids a bit in the fresh air, admired the beautiful arctic fox and some other animals and finally piled in the car to come home.

We put Family Day to good use.

Clarification

I am not going to rush through a post in 12 minutes again - or at least not a long one like that. I really don't like how whiny I sounded (though I was definitely feeling that whiny).

Last week was one of THOSE weeks. It was hectic. It seemed like there was something going on every day. I am starting to feel over-scheduled, though I know that it is all my doing, and that most of our events are things I want to be doing or at least things I think the kids should (and want) to do.

So what I failed to "complain" about in my last post was our healthy social life last week. Which was really nice, but that I just felt overwhelmed by a bit. When my Thursday morning plans fell through I was sorry to postpone for a week, but also heaved a small sigh of relief.

I have been diagnosed with something called PMDD. Or what I like to refer to as PMS's bigger, uglier, nastier sister. I am working through it - the part of me that is so critical of myself is berating me for suffering from something that is related to the butt of so many jokes, such a "high-maintenance" kind of problem. You know, the kind of thing I should just be able to just get over.

Then there's the part of me that can't deal with only sleeping 3-4 hours 14-16 days a month. The debilitating sleep deprivation that is driving me nuts (possibly literally). The fact that a normal day can seem like a mountain to climb on the wrong week. So for now I am going to try and be nice to myself and just let myself have this problem. And feel blessed that it is nothing I can't fix or cure.

And take my doctor's advice and plan "light" when need be.

For Cathie

Stuart was wandering around upstairs with is treasured Maple Leafs blanket over his head, howling like a ghost.

"Marc! Look! It's the Ghost of Stanley Cups Past!"

hee hee.... (and apologies to any Leafs fans... I couldn't resist...)

Stop the insanity

I have 12 minutes until I have to hop in the car, go pick up the boy, go pick up the girl, come home, hammer out homework, get food in them (please let me remember to put the shepherd's pie I picked up at Loblaws IN the oven when I come back) and head out to Jacques Cartier Park on the Quebec side to take my children sledding down ice slides from 6-7 pm with Stu's class. Then try to get them to make a few Valentines cards they have been putting off before hearding them to bed.

Welcome to Winterlude people.

We had managed to avoid Winterlude - I know, I need to take a long hard look at my resistance to partake in organized events that I perceive to be mass gatherings where I will inevitably end up either shrieking at one of my children, or more likely, using language (mostly in my head) to curse the thronging idiots who seem to have annoying me as #1 priority on their list of things to get done before they die.

Man. I need to chill out. Oh wait, that's what I've been doing in this -4 billion degree weather (oh, sorry, that's just the windchill).

I am not happy with Mother Nature. I've been going along, shoveling my driveway and not complaining (too much), and chirpily stating to anyone who complains about the never ending falling snow that at least it's not COLD.

And then it got COLD. After it snowed for about 6 days. And then? This morning? It wasn't so COLD. Why? BECAUSE IT WAS SNOWING AGAIN.

I respect a girl's right to change her mind but OI! Enough already.

See? I've digressed.

What I really wanted to complain about was - what was it? OH YES! I don't like unforseen things happening. Like this trip to the park tonight that was sprung on us Monday after school. We had PLANS for this evening. Stu's first Beaver Campfire. He was SO excited - until he heard about ICE SLIDES. There's no talking him out of it, and seeing as his friend from Beaver's mum agreed to go to the ice slides instead... well how am I supposed to say no?

Not that she isn't a little put out too... and then I feel TERRIBLE, because Stu has this wonderful teacher who is willing to organize this. She could care less than nothing and do worse, and here I am being annoyed because now I have to drive downtown, pick up Marc, find this park, park the car and hope Julia doesn't have too much of a fit.

What was I going on about my kids not knowing how to be grateful? Apples and trees anyone?

Reality sets in

Prequel

The setting : car on our way to and from picking Julia up from nursery school

The characters: Stu the "sick" boy (yeah, not so much once we'd called the school to say he was staying home)
Tracy (who is also sick, and ready for Marc to be back from San Diego)
Julia (also sick all week but getting better, but is still... um... vocal?)

"Mum can we please go to the Quickie and get me something special since I am ssssiiiiiiiiicccccckkkkkkkkk?

"no, you stayed home because you were sick - that is your something special."

On the topic of what Marc might have brought them as a gift from his trip...

"Maybe it's a Wolverine!"

"Nope, it's not a Wolverine, but you're going to like it!" (for those of you who are curious - it's a pair of Camo Webkinz pants)

"But MUM... I've always wanted a Wolverine..." (voice trembles) "Remember when you got me Cyclops?" (on my trip to Montreal in October 2006 - his friend had Wolverine, so I got him Cyclops so they could play together. Apparently a Huge Error on my part).

"And remember they always had them at Bittburg (US Air Force base in Germany) and Dad s-s-s-aid" (real trembling now" "I could have one another time, but you guys NEVER bought me one... wwwww-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-hhhhh"

And the sobbing begins.

"Stu" I say, "it's been barely 2 months since your birthday and Christmas."

We go into the mall to mail a few things. Under duress by children. I take them to the dollar store to buy bags for Valentines treats for school. They play for a few minutes on the rides - Mum does not have any dollar coins.

Stu pipes up "Mum! GET two dollar coins and GIVE them to us and we can make the rides work!"

Excuse me? Get and Give? Should I heel and sit too? Phrasing suggested to have this idea stand a chance of ever coming to fruition (something along the lines of : "Mummy, if you happen to get two loonies that you don't need, it would be really nice if Julia and I could each have one for a ride."

The Main Event

We are baking homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen at 7pm for Dad's return.

"Muuuummm... can I have (insert something, anything, because I can not for the life of me remember what he asked for, only that it was one thing too many yesterday)"

"Stuart. You wanted Mummy to stay home right? You wanted Mummy to stop working, right?"

"Uh-huh....?!" (Big eyes, Mum's not yelling, but she's gonna trick him - he knows it...)

"Well, I think you'd better decide what is really important to you."

"Ohhh-kay...?"

"You have to decide if you want Mummy home and baking cookies, or you want Mummy at work."

"Uh (in the DUH voice I hate) At HOME!"

"okay then - let's get something straight. If you want Mummy home, then that means we stop asking for things all the time. If you need all the things you say you do, then Mummy has to go back to work. And then we will have lots of money for all the toys you want, and a bigger house to put them all in. And you will go to daycare and eat lunch at school every day."

Silence (yeah!! I love it when I can shock them into silence)

"Mum - can I help with the cookies? Can I put them on the cookie sheet?" (smile on Mum's face)

I don't seem to know how to teach my children gratitude it would seem. I have to shock them into it. Sigh.

no no no no no no

This can't be happening.

Last year, in the middle of January I came down with a sinus infection that would stick with me until - Oh, I think it was July. It brought with it a horrible hacking cough that landed me in more specialists offices than I care to think about, breathing into more contraptions than I can even begin to name. The last specialist - the lung specialist - was a lovely man who told me my illness was all in my head, I must be homesick for Canada.

Seeing as we were already in the process of selling our house (had sold it I think, it's all such a blur) in order to move back to Canada I figured he was full of it (he was so nasty, little Luxembourgish man who obviously disliked ex-pats).

We left our house and - miraculously - I started to get better. Since I had been sick for the 2 years we were in the house, we figured it was the house.

And, with the exception of a sinus infection in September, the flu in October - I haven't been doing too bad.

Until Saturday when I was ironing Marc's shirts for his trip to San Diego. And I sneezed.

It's all been downhill from there. I got a horrid cold. I consumed large quantities of vitamin c and Cold-FX.

It's not working, I feel awful. Which in itself I could deal with. EXCEPT - the bloody cough is back.

Welcome to the Hack-a-minute fest with Tracy. She's the one over in the corner gasping for air. Turning blue. With the 3 pack a day smoker's voice (well, that might bean improvement on my usual squeak).

Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself. I am hoping this doesn't stick around for another 6 months (especially since you can't get a doctor in the town...)

And then I feel bad because there are people with real problems.

And I feel bad for yelling at Julia for unravelling an inch of the doll's leg I finally managed to knit for her (and the web of knots she made in the wool that took an hour to get out). My mother was a saint teaching me last night.

Bleah. Can I have a do over on this week?

On a positive note (there is one - woo hoo!) I took Stu to Beavers for the first time tonight. It was also Parents night - and I managed to rise above (for the most part) the hacking and ran around like the crazy woman I am with him. We had a blast.

And now I will go ingest some codeine in hopes of sleep.

Because there's only so much sorry for myself I can take.

Loose

Tonight Stuart had his finger in his mouth.

"Stu - do you have a loose tooth?" (he's way behind the other first graders on this one).

"No Mum, it's just crooked."

"What? Are you sure it's not loose?"

"NO Mum, it's really not loose, there's just this little bit... here on the top... it's crooked... maybe it moved... oh I can't explain."

"Let me see..."

"Sigh. But it's not loose Mum." (Dutifully opens mouth for crazy woman who proceeds to prod his tooth.)

"Uh, Stu?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got a loose tooth buddy!"

"I've got a loose tooth? I'VE GOT A LOOSE TOOTH!!!!!!!! Dad!!!!!!!"

Remember how exciting your first loose tooth was? I didn't until today.

A little icing on the cake of parenting.

Learning to Skate

It's been cold enough here for the outdoor rinks to freeze, and every afternoon on the way home from nursery school we see kids, skates in hand, heading out to the small rink near our house.

Stu has been eagerly awaiting his first go on skates - his godparents gave him some skates at Thanksgiving and he's been itching to get into them. So when we drove by the rink yesterday and realized that there was a tiny rink for the kids not playing hockey, we decided to have a quick snack and head out before the sun set.

We perched on snowbanks to put on our skates and I was reminded of the outdoor rink near my house growing up. Within minutes my fingers were cold, and I didn't even have my skates on yet before my feet felt chilly. Childhood memories came flooding back.

I have a confession to make - I don't like skating. I broke my arm skating in Grade 6 (a fellow girl guide crashed into me 3 times knocking me over and I fractured my wrist) and didn't get back onto skates until I was 22. Goaded into it by a boyfriend at a romantic Victorian Inn in New Hampshire.

When I moved to Ottawa in '94 I bought skates. EVERYONE here skates. I think I used them once (Marc who I met in '95 had never seen me on skates before yesterday).

But seeing as we live in Ottawa - where everyone seems to be waiting for the canal to freeze for half the year - well I bought skates again this year. Nice furry Nike ones that looked cosy (hmmmm. Jury's still out).

I am certain if I spread the word of my lack of enthusiasm to glide up and down the world's longest outdoor rink I would be run out of town.

It's more than just that though - I want to show my kids that you can still try something you're not good at. In the end I only had my skates on for about 15 minutes by the time we got them up and remotely stable. But I managed to stay upright and did a couple of "laps" around the "rink" (I think my living room/dining room is bigger).

The kids did great - Julia on her cheese cutters (double blades) got the hang pretty quickly. Stu, ever his mother's son, took a little longer to warm up, but got off the ice reluctantly when it was time to go.

Think I'll take them to my girlfriend's next week to have her big strapping boys help out. If nothing else they can pick their Auntie Tracy up off the ice ;-)

And perhaps the promise of a Beaver Tail will get me out on the canal.... just perhaps...

Longing for Nancy

I have been trying to keep all my Europe Longings to myself for a bit now.

I'll be going along, having a perfectly normal day and then - BOOM - I think of somewhere we went. Some things are just nice memories, others are much more profound, almost a physical longing for places. Like Table du Pain (oh no, a Lait Russe and a Table du Pain Club... mouth watering....)

Yesterday I had the overpowering urge to go to Nancy, in the Moselle "departement" of France. It was home to Stanislas, Marie-Antoinette's father. It's a lovely town with lovely shopping, a huge lovely park with a lovely little zoo and lovely Art Nouveau architecture. And of course a Table du Pain (I think I should go and make some lunch, I am a little too focussed on TdP at the moment).

We used to go to Nancy a couple of times a year - at 120km from Luxembourg it was far enough to be an excursion, but not far enough to require much advance planning.

We've been there in the hot summer, pregnant with Stu and eating Mexican with S & J when they visited. We've braved winter weather and had delicious crepe meals - though the service was so bad the last time we abandoned our favorite eatery (interestingly enough in some areas of France speaking English still gets you glared at, even if you are doing all your ordering in French).

Last winter we were in Nancy the first (and one of the only) day that there was some snow. We had a great time throwing snowballs with the kids in the big square by the parking lot. We of course got stared at, but hey. (unfortunately I was also so sick that I coughed so hard in the car going home that I pulled a muscle in my chest. No joke.)

The last time I was in Nancy was with my mum and the kids in May. It was a beautiful warm sunny day. We bought Julia her much coveted Lelli Kelly shoes, and me my Dorkings (my favourite shoes). We had lunch and walked through the Park/Zoo. Had ice cream in the rose garden.

On a wintery blustery COLD day like today it's a lovely memory... and I wish I could go there right now. Sigh.

I have to stop typing because Julia will not stop talking to me and trying to type. Double Sigh (this is why I haven't posted this week, we're in full on Mummy Love.)

Really, I did

Today I painted the powder room. With Julia's help.

Yes, I teetered off the cliff of sanity and gave the child a paintbrush and pushed her towards the paint.

In a VERY small room. Where we both ended up with paint in our hair from ducking each other and bumping into walls.

For a 3 year-old she is a mighty fine painter. And it was fun.

The baseboards she dripped on needed touching up anyhow. The paint on the hands that ended up all over the toilet? Came off with bathtub cleaner.

The paint she walked in by accident and tracked all over the floor... well there's still some in the grout between the tiles, but what the hey.

She's very proud of herself. Me too.

where is it in the rules?

The other day I got a Christmas card from a friend in B.C. In it she apologized for sending it in January and I thought - holy cow, she's good to even send them.

I like the idea of Christmas cards. I like to receive them. I love to buy them. Some years I even manage to write a few, but rarely do I manage to mail them.

The last few years I have blamed it on having a December baby - Stu was born the 4th of December. So there's his birthday to organize. Then, when we were still living in Luxembourg, Kleeschen (the Luxembourgish version of Santa Claus) came on the 6th. By then it was getting too late to send them to Canada and have them arrive in time.

And it was a pain to get stamps in Luxembourg. If I ever get a government job, I want it to be in a rural post office in Luxembourg. You get to waltz in at 9, leave at 11:30 for lunch and then go back from 2-5 in the afternoon. Of course at 4:45 you close the doors and glare at anyone coming in because you're CLOSING - hello?!

Okay, so maybe their hours aren't quite that short, but not much longer either.

So - back to me not sending Christmas cards. Please don't tell me I could write them in November. I know I could, but it's just soooooo....... I don't know, too early. For me Christmas season doesn't begin until Stu's birthday is over.

This year I was going to send cards. After all, being a SAHM, I had no excuse (oh shoot me now for any and all judgements I made erroneously before having kids and staying home). I even bought supplies for the kids to MAKE cards this year.

Of course they only wanted to make them for people that live next door to us or their stuffed animals. Not many went out.

So. I've decided - that we will send annual cards. Just NOT at Christmas, when there are 17 zillion other things to do.

I have no clue what time of year we will send them. Working that out still. Wondering if maybe Back to School cards would be appropriate - as in "we all survived the summer".

Then again, after the summer I may be retiring to my room with a nice bottle of wine, and you wouldn't want a card from me then ;-)

An open letter to my Husband

Dear Better Half,

This letter serves to inform you of changes to the terms and conditions (hereafter T & C) by which we will spend the rest of our lives together (a.k.a. happily ever after).

As of today, 15 January 2008, please be advised that any "Boy Time" you spend with our son should not include, but not be limited to, the viewing of such cinematic "productions" such as Star Wars.

This condition can be waived provided that you cease your current employment immediately and become a Stay at Home Dad (SAHD) and deal with lightsabre fighting, constant battling, "getting" people etc that is a result of watching said "productions".

He seems to think he is Chewbacca (which is the only explanation I can find for him "attacking" children much smaller than he is) and that your daughter and all her nursery school friends are the Emperor's minions. He has "blasted" the car and is in danger of redecorating most of our home in a serious minimalist trend.

Failure to comply with this new T & C will result in a month long Barney-fest for both you and the boy. Repeat offences could result in Julia and I spending a month in the South of France and/or Italy.

Much love,
your wife

what shade of green is that?

I am suffering terribly from house envy these days.

We left a larger house in Luxembourg - I was not sorry to leave it really, it was an awkward house - and moved back into our townhouse that we built in 1996. The one that I love dearly, but that is the smallest model the builder made. Even with the bit of extra space that we've gained in the basement, it is still quite.... well wee.

Marc has suggested I view it as if it were an apartment in Paris - at about 1300 square feet it would be enormous. Unfortunately I reasoned back that I would have the Seine, delicious croissants and - well - PARIS to make up for it.

It's not that I don't love my house, I do. Really. If there was any way that I could just enlarge it by say - oh 30% - then all would be well.

I seem to have fallen right back into the whole North American mentality of MORE IS MORE, feeling I need a bigger house (or again, just for this one to be bigger).

And my case of house envy is running rampant.

It happens most places I go. My neighbour's house is nearly twice the size of ours. It doesn't feel cramped like ours. My girlfriend's house - with her two teenage boys and granny suite for her mum - also spacious. My friend's house in an older neighborhood - great huge yard and rooms that feel like real rooms. Like houses we grew up in. Wait, make that two friends in older neighborhoods. Two of Stuart's friends from school... the list goes on. Seems like I can't walk into someone's house without comparing mine.

Tonight we had dinner with some lovely friends who live a short way out of town (Ottawa has grown since we left). They have an ENORMOUS house - one with a lovely cosy family room off the kitchen. With a fireplace. My ideal place for a family room - the one I had in Luxembourg was close to being right, but not quite.

Ugh. This envy leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I am trying to cull it here and now, but I am not managing very well. It's silly and self-serving - there are people out there with nothing and I am concerned about square footage. I am not impressed with myself.

slow going

So - I am extremely proud of myself for managing to get a picture up on here. It's only taken - oh too long. But for some one as technologically challenged as I am, with the attention span of a flea and windows of opportunity that are very short - well it's quite a feat.

Tonight I've managed to add some links to blogs I read - only to realize that I've been so busy I hardly read any. And that someone who moved to Africa needs to find time to post... hint hint...

But what I can't figure out how to do is link things in my text... as in when I wrote the other day "you have to read finslippy" and have it so the finslippy is a link.

I'll figure it out at some point.

Maybe.

(the finslippy link is on the side now though in case you had no clue what I was talking about... and as of now it's still the same post).

the wool

is winning.

How on earth do you knit one purl one and then do anything with the next row???

All this is doing is sticking VINDALOO in my head (we found the CD when we were unpacking... purchased on our honeymoon to the UK in 1998)

Knit one, purl one... Nanana, VIndaloo, nanana nanana na na... me and me mum and me dad and me gran and a bucket of vindaloo... cos we all like vindaloo....

Scary.

you have to, I said so

you have to check out the post at finslippy today.

I would have written my own post, but I spent too much time reading hers and the comments and laughing until my sides hurt. And I have nothing nearly that funny to say.

hee hee...

warning: needles involved

I've decided I want to learn to knit.

No, this is not the first time. Nor, sigh, do I think it will be the last.

I've knitted before. A scarf for my mum that had to be knit on large needles so it was supposed to look "holey". A scarf to bring baby Stu home from the hospital - it was sweet but completely uneven. It irked my need for symmetry in the world.

Now I am going to start a doll for Julia. Which, according to my son, will be followed by a teddy bear sweater for him. As in teddies in 3 colours who are dancing the cha-cha while sipping Chinese tea and scuba diving.

No, the bears aren't really doing that, but they might as well be for all the chance they have of being knit resembling bears at all.

Bless his little heart for believing that Mummy can.

Happy New Year!

Hey!!

THE KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!

Please don't think I haven't enjoyed the holidays. I really really have. They've just been hectic, so much so that I have yet to tell you about Christmas, or the fireworks on Parliament Hill on New Year's Eve (should have seen Joolsies face! Her first time!) or tell you how FABULOUS Mamma Mia was on Thursday night.

By the way, Mamma Mia was fabulous. You have to see it if you can (Pam - even better than Saturday Night Fever in London. Only thing that would have made it better was having you here to bop with us, instead of in Africa...).

But you know... I need a bit of mental space. I love my kids, but full on, 24/7 for 16 days and I am probably more likely to come up as Grumpy than as Happy if I were to do the "which of the Seven Dwarves are you?" quiz on Facebook.

Just kidding, I don't think there is such a quiz on Facebook. But there's so much other "stuff" (see how polite I am being) that it wouldn't surprise me to find out there was one.

So... back to school tomorrow. It's a bit sad really, all the build up to the holiday season and then inevitably January rolls around and there you are feeling kinda flat.

That is kind of how I feel right now - flat. We did some great stuff. Had some playdates, saw Enchanted, spent lots of time playing out in the snow, went to the museum of Science and Tech... even had some down time, some days when we really didn't get out of pyjamas.

I have resolutions, but I am not sure I will get to them on this post. I am trying to make myself post them so that I feel some accountability to follow through on them.

But for now I am going to go and hug my babies and feel sniffly that they are going to be leaving me tomorrow - even for the few short hours they will be gone. It's a luxury I haven't had for 16 days ;-)

Happy Holidays!

We made it to Christmas :-)
I seem to have found some holiday cheer... ;-)
Julia finally decided to open her presents...

We are (as usual) late to get to my mum's...

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas!!

May we make it to tomorrow...

okay - so that's a little melodramatic ("I don't know what MELODRAMATIC means" says Prince Edward in Enchanted...)

Last Wednesday a little boy got hit in the eye with a mini hockey stick at lunch recess. He had to go to the hospital and now needs to see a specialist. Turns out it was my boy's hockey stick, thrown down in a temper (the boy who got hit was cheating apparently) and bounced up and hit the poor child who was lying on the ground. There have been repercussions - there was a lot of lying around said event. I am still not sure it is all over - we're waiting on the specialist to see the eye.

But let's just say that when the Ontario Police Association called earlier looking for a donation for "Fishing with Cops" I didn't hear much past the Ontario Police for the first few seconds and thought we were being called down to the police station in relation to the event (the boy's father is understandably very upset).

Do I need to say I have been besides myself for the last 4 days (I only found out Thursday afternoon). NO? Good. I've nearly made myself sick over Stu's part in the whole ugly mess.

Then Friday night Stu took a tumble out of bed and cut his head open on the corner of his desk. The chances of him actually managing that are - oh - close to NIL, but he found away (he may have a future with the Cirque du Soleil). Off to the Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario (as advised by Telehealth). Of course I only had the vaguest idea of where the hospital was and spent 1/2 the drive - the same drive where we were dodging snowplows trying to clear excess snow, cursing myself for not having done a trial run to the hospital - I mean we were going to end up there at some point right?

They, after many hours, glued his head back together (it's on the back where it will be covered by hair, so they were able to spare him stitches). I wondered if it was a fitting turn of events for young Stu, and without being all psycho pointed out that this is where Myles (boy with the eye) had to come because of him throwing his hockey stick.

Yesterday morning Julia threw up. Then again at 5:41 this morning. She has sore ears. I am on my 3rd load of vomit laundry.

All I want right now is for her to stop throwing up (touch wood it's been a few hours) and for the snow to stop so that we can drive to Montreal tomorrow and eat turkey.

And drink lots and lots of eggnog.

MERRY CHRISTMAS to all and all the best for 2008!

Tis the season

About 10 days ago I had an email from my friend Catherine. She's spending her first Christmas in Europe and noticing the differences - no Christmas music in stores, feeling like it's not really all that holiday like...

I remember feeling the same way 8 Christmases ago. I had been in Luxembourg for almost a year and thought I knew a lot about living there. But then the holidays came and it didn't feel right. There were no Christmas carols on the radio or in the stores. There were lights up but still... I remember driving to Myles & Cathie's for Christmas dinner in the rain and feeling oh so blue. Though it was hard to stay blue with Cathie's perogies on offer!

Now I am suffering for the reverse effect. There has been Christmas music for going on 2 months now - even radio stations that have been playing nothing but Christmas music since the 1st of December! Everywhere you go you are bombarded by "Christmas Cheer" - it's a bit overwhelming to be honest.

For all our vows to not get caught up in the hype it's hard not to. Going to Toys'r'us almost a month ago was already a frantic occasion. I can't quite put my finger on where it comes from, but there all this pressure to buy gifts, the right gifts for just about everybody.

In retrospect, I used to have to get a lot of Christmas gifts done early to mail. Don't get me wrong, it was still stressful (why is it that gift giving is so stressful?) but at least it was usually done by the beginning of December.

I guess I can also blame a lot of my bah humbugs on other things this year too - Marc's consulting contract coming to an end without any job offers... luckily that one has been resolved in the nick of time and he started a new job on Monday. While I am immensely relieved and proud of him for landing this new job, he still needs to finish up his consulting gig on top of a new job, and at this time of the year that's not fun. Our plans to go to his parents over the holidays - down the drain. We've gotten so used to him not working over the holidays (got to love the NATO shut down for 2 weeks) and now we're happy that he's going to be finished work by 2 on Christmas Eve. It's a lot of changes - in a year where it feels like we've been turned upside down already.

This time last year we were looking forward to 2007 - the last 9 months of 2006 had been challenging (so we thought then!). Now we are looking to 2008. I am aware though in the back of my mind that you can't live your life trying to get from one thing to the next. And that I am turning into a negative person. I have so much to be thankful for in life. Gotta focus on that, and hopefully be jollier next Christmas.

And maybe spend it in the sun - where there's no snow to shovel ;-)

This pretty much sums it up...

Got this from a friend today. Yup.

BTW - it's snowing again.

December 2: 6:00 PM:
>
> It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I
took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge
soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses
Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!
>
> December 9:
>
> We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every
inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more
lovely place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've
ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years and felt like a boy
again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the
snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the
driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.
>
> December 12:
>
> The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My
neighbor tells me not to worry, we'll definitely have a white Christmas.
No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by
the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think
that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.
>
> December 14:
>
> Snow, lovely snow! 8" last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The
cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I
warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The
snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't
realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly
get back in shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.
>
> December 15:
>
> 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow
tires for the wife's car and two extra shovels. Stocked the freezer.
The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think
that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.
>
> December 16:
>
> Ice storm this morning. Fell on my butt on the ice in the driveway
putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I
think was very cruel.
>
> December 17:
>
> Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere.
Electricity was off for five hours. I had to pile the blankets on to
stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate
her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her.
God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death
in my own living room!
>
> December 20:
>
> Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last
night. More shoveling. Took all day. damn snowplow came by twice.
Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy
playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store
around to see about buying a snow blower, and they're out. Might have
another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to
shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.
>
> December 22:
>
> Bob was right about a white Christmas, because 13 more inches of the
white shit fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt 'til
August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel,
and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed
again, I was too tired to shovel! Tried to hire Bob, who has a plow on
his truck, for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy. I
think the a**hole is lying.
>
> December 23:
>
> Only 2" of snow today, and it warmed up to "0". The wife wanted me to
decorate the front of the house this morning. What, is she nuts??? Why
didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did, but I think
she's lying.
>
> December 24:
>
> 6" . Snow packed so hard by snowplow, I broke the shovel. Thought I
was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the son-of-a-bitch who drives
that snowplow, I'll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him
to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and
waits for me to finish shoveling and then he > comes down the street at
a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over everywhere I've just been!
Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open
our presents, but I was too busy watching for the damn snowplow.
>
> December 25:
>
> Merry F****** Christmas. 20 more inches of the @&^%)*% slop tonight.
Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God, I hate the
snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit
him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude.
I think she's a fricking idiot. If I have to watch "It's a Wonderful
Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.
>
> December 26:
>
> Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER
idea. She's really getting on my nerves.
>
> December 27:
>
> Temperature dropped to -30, and the pipes froze. Plumber came after
14 hours of waiting for him; he only charged me $1,400 to replace all my
pipes.
>
> December 28:
>
> Warmed up to above -25. Still snowed in. The B*TCH is driving me
crazy!!!!!
>
> December 29:
>
> 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave
in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I
am?
>
> December 30:
>
> Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver. He is now suing me for
a million dollars; not for only the beating I gave him, but also for
trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home
to her mother. 9" predicted.
>
> December 31:
>
> I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.
>
> January 8:
>
> Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving
me. Why am I tied to the bed?

Grumble Grumble

Have you seen my holiday cheer?

I think I may have dug a hole in the backyard (under the snow, so deep deep down) and buried it.

Grrr. Mmmhphm. Blech.

37cm of snow yesterday didn't help. Our street still has not been plowed. The Volvo with all wheel drive got stuck.

Grumble. Pfffft. Grunt.

Update : 10 pm and the plow finally goes by, a mere 40 hours after the snow began. Somehow the majority of the snow ends up on ours and our next door neighbours' driveways. Across the street? A few inches to shovel.

On our side (and I am not exaggerating, though I am wont to do so) - a mound of snow that was almost 3 feet high and at least 3 feet across. And the width of two driveways. They must have an in with the mayor (the mayor of Ottawa is likely to be charged for bribing an opponent to drop out of the race... not that I'm implying anything.)

Nice heavy stuff. Yeah. I just asked Marc to return my Christmas presents and buy me a snowblower.