Camera.

I love my new camera. It makes me drool.

This is Mouse. He is our largest cat – the name suits him, since he’s a weenie and won’t hunt a damn thing.

Dopey & Gummy, aka my Offspring:

Jack has lost a 3rd tooth in the front of his mouth, to the left of the gap in that photo. I made him eat corn on the cob the other night. It took me a while to realize he was having issues.

Survived another week. I was quite stabby at several points today, but managed not to kill or maim anyone. It’s possible I was quite pleasant. Or maybe not.

This is Wiley. He’s Bad. Wiley has decided that any open window is an Escape Route. No matter that a 5-inch wide space doesn’t allow his considerably wider ass an easy path. In fact, any 5-inch space can be expanded if a dog is willing to destroy the wall beneath the window, pull down the bamboo blind that keeps his owners from waking at 5 am, AND pop the entire inner window from its track, thus leaving shattered glass strewn upon said owners’ bed. Like I SAID. He’s BAD.

Well, at least my ass is comfy.

Today was very long. Don’t get me wrong, most days in my life are long, but this one started pretty damn early.

See:
Leave house 8 am, pick up “home made” dessert from supermarket freezer.
Return home, dress older child in karate gear.
Deliver older child and aforementioned dessert to dojo (aka school gym, in opposite directly of town).
Return home for all of 10 minutes – just enough time to call younger child home from neighbours’, dress him in soccer gear, and send him back over there.
Go back to town, deliver soccer photos to one coach.
Meet up with other soccer board members to deal with Problem Coach (probably our 10th this year. Argh.) See that PC is the only coach on the field (her team has 4!), decide not to wreck soccer for the wee kiddies. Reschedule chat with coach.
Go to photo place, pick up photo.
Return to dojo/school gym and help other karate moms set up lunch buffet for kids, who are in a karate seminar.
Watch 2.5 hours of karate grading, including kata, kion, and kumite.
Burst with pride as older son attains green belt.
Return home, break younger child’s heart by informing him that we are going to BiggerCityNorthofHere to buy mommy her dream camera….and some other stuff.
Drive north for an hour.
Go to eye place, watch children decide on new glasses in 4.67 seconds flat.
Spend the next 55 minutes trying on every funky frame in the place, narrow it down to 3.
Order kids’ glasses, keep nice eye place lady late at work. Oops.
Go to Staples, buy two Canon Rebel EOS XS digital SLR cameras. (one for me, one for my seester, who would cry if I got one and she didn’t – she’s now on the Sister Payment Plan….)
Also buy a new desk chair, Ipod touch covers, printer ink and an Ipod FM transmitter.
Go to mid-range dept store in mall, buy kids sandals, sunglasses, and Pokemon cards.
Go to dollar store, buy hats, crappy toys they love and junk food.
Go to Subway, get dinner to go.
Drive home.
Assemble new chair.
Play with new camera.
Discover Ipod cases don’t work. (goddamn “next generation” bullshit)
Play with new camera. (who cares about Ipod cases?)
Mmmm…camera….

Realize that the new chair was the second-best purchase of the day. The old one made my ass hurt. And that is now my official reason for not blogging enough. I was getting tired of laziness/my brain hurts.

Boy howdy.*

*I just had to quote my favourite South Carolinian. He plays online poker with my husband, and he’s hilarious to chat with on Skype.

Life is pretty good right now. I’d use some of the lovely phrases my husband has picked up from said favourite S. Carolinian, but they’re a little on the raunchy side. I find them funny, but I’m not sure my amusement would translate well. Here’s hoping I don’t slip up and say them at work….

D is home, and the change has been easier than expected. Yes, I wanted him home every minute of the 21 months he was gone, but I became very accustomed to doing my own thing. Oh hell, I’ve always done my own thing….I just didn’t have to pretend to ask him if he cared! Now? I do. Sort of. He’ll back me up, no matter what I’m doing. It’s lovely to have an adult human to talk to at night….and yes, that’s all we do….talk…..hehe.

Work is going well, if you can call semi-insanity a good thing. Oy. I am looking forward to (and simultaneously panicking about) our vacation in July. Can’t wait for the relaxation. Have to get through SO MUCH work in the interim. In Really Exciting news, I finally received the information about my bonus for 2008. I almost passed out. It’s that good. I’m off to get the Canon DSLR camera I’ve been salivating over for an embarrassing length of time on Sunday. Sunday!!! Wheee!

The kids are thisclose to finishing up the school year, and it’s draaaaaaging. Bleh. We’ve decided to make a big change, and have put A in French Immersion for Grade 6. Provided the program runs through grade 12, he’ll receive a Double Dogwood (two graduation certificates). And, provided it works with A, we’ll probably do the same with J in 4 years.

Well, I should run. The laundry has inexplicably taken over my house….

Such a geek.

I can share my news now! As of today, my husband is officially living in the same house as me & the kids!!!!! Long story short – his old boss finally retired, and he’s moving home to take over the store.

This was The Plan all along. It just required a huge (scary, nerve-wracking) leap of faith, and 21 months of long-distance marriage.

The best part? I can’t get Ozzy Osbourne’s “Mamma, I’m Coming Home” song out of my damn head.

The worst part? I’m not even home this weekend to welcome him with open arms (etc….he he). Nope, I’m in Vancouver until Sunday. Mind you, I’m kid-less, so perhaps it’s not the worst part.

This weekend can suck it. Bring on Tuesday.

Long weekends are supposed to be FUN. No work for 3 days, time with the family, blah blah.

I am done with this one. Seriously done. I would like to ask that the suckitude ends now.

Heard some worrying news about a family member tonight. Need more info before I can determine the FreakOut Level required.

Driving home from the Hannah Whatserface movie*, I almost hit a deer. Well, two. One made it across, but I slowed right down because the Rule of Deer is this: If there is ONE, there will be at LEAST two more. Deer #1 is just a tester in the Road-Crossing Crapshoot.

THEN, not 2 minutes later, I had to slow down for vehicles parked on the road…..someone had hit a deer. The deer was badly injured….but not dead. So the dude was in the ditch, trying valiantly to put it out of its misery. I am now left with the horrifying image of the injured (and confused, I’m sure) deer trying to get up…..

GAH.

I realize it could be worse. There is always a worse. I am just tired of seeing, hearing, and learning about sad/bad/awful things. At least for this weekend.

*I am 99% positive I am the only mother who took her son to see that Miley/Hannah movie. And? I am 100% ok with that. It’s kind of funny….and a great story for his wedding. Muahahaha.

Loss.

I don’t know how to make this post make sense. Nothing makes sense when children die before their parents.

A friend/business acquaintance lost her son yesterday. He would have graduated from high school in two weeks. Every time I think of the pain she must be in, I start to cry.

Another woman I know has a young son who is dying of terminal cancer. I can barely think of her pain….her son is the same age as J.

I am not close to either of these women, I don’t know the children personally. And yet? I am a mother. My heart breaks for them. I cannot help but think “that could be me….my son….my family.”

I feel I spend a lot of time bitching about my children. They are two of the most amazing, wonderful, smart, frustrating and annoying people I have had the luck to meet. I’m not a mushy person, but I adore my kids. I cannot imagine my world without them.

Tonight, my older son is at a friend’s. He called to say goodnight. The younger is fast asleep in my bed, and I plan to enjoy his little-boyness while I still can. Too soon, the oldest will be off doing his own thing, and may forget to call his mom. Too soon, the youngest will decide he’s outgrown the safe haven that is my bed.

I need to enjoy these days.

Pause.

I am overwhelmed right now. So many things to do, emails to answer, phone calls to make, emails to send, people to organize, clients to make happy, phone calls to answer, meetings to attend, children to feed, paperwork to catch up on….

That sound? Is my brain going pfzzzzzttt.

There are good things (really GOOD things) on the imminent horizon, but I cannot elaborate. It’s one of those OMG, I can’t talk about it because what if it doesn’t happen and then I’m totally to blame because yeah, I have that kind of power over the Universe in general, and don’t want to be blamed when I jinx it somehow, OMG, I have to tell someone. Anyone. NOW. And so I did. Just enough to take the edge off. More later.

In the end? Just a whiner.

That’s me. The Whiner.

April is kicking my ass. Gawd, I’m so tired of these puny winter/mud/spring months kicking my ass. I’m even more tired of that phrase. I need a new one. Bleh.

It’s been an interesting month. SoccerWorkSoccerWorkSoccerWorkSoccerWork. Someone help me off the merry go round, I’m going to vomit. Work has ramped up considerably, and the new girl is fitting in wonderfully. Plus, since I poached her from That Other Place That Does What We Do, she’s got the goss. At least a bit of it. Whee!

Soccer. Don’t even get me started. I should just go back to April 08 (and maybe 07?) to revisit the joy that is soccer team sorting. Attention PARENTS: someone needs to nut the fuck up and BE THE COACH. Seriously. I could give two mouse shits that you’re “willing to help” but are “too busy” to coach. Do you think I’m not busy? That none of the other VOLUNTEER board members aren’t fucking busy? Oh, hey, maybe that board position is a year-round JOB unto itself. Nah. Couldn’t be. It’s “just” soccer. (aka the biggest sport – yes, even over hockey – in our little Canadian town.)

This weekend brought my husband home (rowr), and saw the demise of one of our satellite receivers. It was not a natural death, I’m sad to report, and involved hot chocolate spilled in a most unfortunate manner. As a nice surprise, it was not my kid who did the damage. And while I’m not willing to harass them in any way, I’m fairly sure the offending child’s parents will buck up & replace it. I am also willing to try & revive it. You never know, maybe hot chocolate and smoke do not a busted receiver make….

The kids are good. I am a slacker mom, and have not emailed my MIL the photos I promised. The ones my kids took are rather godawful. Closeups of noses, blurry faces, the works. Gotta redo those sometime.

In really exciting news, I’m off to have a mole removed tomorrow. It’s not a Bad Mole, just a mole that survived two pregnancies and is much the worse for wear. If only the rest of the crap left from pregnancy were so easy to remove.

Boys

We have a couple of *ahem* *cough* those magazines in our bathroom. My husband is somewhat prudish, and as far as I know, these are the only two he ever bought and/or borrowed. I don’t have an issue with them (or with pr0n, for that matter). In fact, I’ve been known to peruse the articles and the photos on occasion.

I knew the day would come when one of the boys would discover these magazines, but they’re hidden, and I seldom remember they’re in the house. Yesterday was that day. Problem is, my kid isn’t savvy enough to know the golden rule of Secret Girlie Magazine Viewing for Young Men:

Put the magazine back exactly how you found it.

Yeah. He’s not exactly stealthy. The stack was all messed up, with the offending magazine on top, the spine was facing out, and about a 1/4 inch of the edge was showing.

NOT how I left them the last time I cleaned and realized they were still there! (spine to the back, at the bottom of a pile of boring political mags)

I returned the magazine to its original position last night, and waited. Sure enough, it was all screwy again tonight. I asked him point-blank about it. We were on the way to karate, and he was unable to escape:

Me: So…..have you been enjoying the magazines in the bathroom?
A: (blank look, semi-convincing) Huh?
Me: (eyebrow arched) Don’t “huh” me…you know what I’m talking about.
A: (oh shit look on his face) Uh…..god, I’m so stupid!!
Me: Why? You’re just being curious.
A: Yeah, but now you’re mad at me. And I’m stupid.
Me: (fighting urge to tell him the only stupid thing was not hiding the evidence) No, I’m not mad, and you’re not stupid, you’re just being a boy. Heck, I did the same thing as a kid, but with my dad’s magazines*.
A: Oh.
Me: So, what did you see?
A: I read some articles…
Me: (howling on the inside) Really? Well, since those articles can be a little bit graphic for kids, I’d appreciate it if you stopped reading them.
A: Ok.
Me: Do I need to move them to a better hiding spot?
A: Probably.
Me: You think you can’t keep away?
A: (nods) You should move them.

The boy gets points for honesty.

*Yes, I did look as a kid. Bet you did too. I still think I got away with it, at least for a while. One day, they just disappeared.

On children, mud and shop vacs

Children and mud seem to have a magnetic attraction of sorts. Mine enjoy bike rides through the mud puddles, now that the majority of our snow has melted. The downside is the mess. The upside is I don’t have to convince them to shower.

This morning, before I’d even had breakfast, I was out in the garage. Spring has sprung, and I am TIRED of the clutter. My trusty new wet/dry shop vac at my side, I cleaned and vacuumed, and it’s getting there. Not perfect yet…there’s still a bunch of ice right in front of the garage, and as it slowly melts, people track it in. Fun times.

As a bonus, I took my shiny new sledge hammer to the ice blocking one side of the garage, and can once again access the garage fully. First up: big load of crap to the dump. Second up: BBQ something!

I’ve made several notes to self for next winter:
1. do not run extension under garage door for block heater. it will get frozen into the ice, guaran-damn-teed.
2. ask the snow plower to please not pile the white shit up in front of the garage in any way, shape or form. it will morph into an impenetrable berm of ice by February, and cause me to turn into a screaming lunatic when the ice from the roof is melting and can’t go anywhere.
3. install eavestroughs on the garage roof. previously unable to do this, because snow on a metal roof? FALLS OFF. VIOLENTLY. now? snow keeper-uppers work like magic. just need eavestroughs.
4. beg parents to sell/give me the insta-garage they bought. install it as close to the house as possible, thus preventing snow plow dude from even thinking of piling up the white shit where he shouldn’t.
5. have husband fix the tractor, and confirm that the parents are going to leave it to us upon their removal to parts south of here. (who needs a tractor in Vancouver? not them!) learn to drive said tractor, thus removing all need for snow plow dude – I can do it mah-self!

In other news, my horoscope went on & on about the full moon being in my sign this week, and to watch out for issues on relationships. Too bad they didn’t mention it would be strictly mechanical relationships. To wit: I managed to overlow the toilet AND break the sink drain this week. Haven’t mentioned the sink issue to the husband yet – my dad’s going to help me fix it tomorrow. Really, why say anything? It works, it’s just a bit…um…leaky. Hence the bucket.