Sadly I must inform you that my son is a bully. He picks on kids who are smaller than him, throws crazy cats in their way and steals toys from innocent hands.

Okay so he’s only twenty two months old but come on now, a bully is a bully. I will have to beat him. (Just a joke Grand Maman, but if it’ll get you to come to BC to investigate, I mean visit, I am completely serious!) Finnegan has decided he doesn’t like sharing with his best Pal Christopher, who is ten months old. I know, shocking, a toddler who doesn’t share well.

He makes this noise when someone takes something he doesn’t want to relinquish, which kind of sounds like “HEY!”.

Finnegan also likes Kitties; however the kitties don’t fully appreciate the full body hugs Finn tries to give them, or the pulling of the tail to get them to come closer. At our friends’ house, where Finnegan is going currently for daycare, they have a psycho cat (okay maybe not psycho but a very cranky female cat) that doesn’t tolerate any of his shenanigans and scratches him if he tries anything funny.

You’d think he’d learn but come on now, he IS a boy. Well apparently last time he tormented the cat from behind little Mr. Christopher so when the cat struck the ten month old got it. The boy may look like Scott but must get his brains from me!

And then there’s Logan. He’s cute, and charming, and apparently a nudist. Yesterday after school, in the playground he pulled down his pants and shook his booty at his friends, who I can imagine  found it hilarious. When we questioned him about it, he said “My legs were cold”. His logic hurts my head very much.

He’s always been partial to nudity, he often strips down to his tighty whitey’s when he gets home, which although it disturbs Scott, we haven’t forbidden, unless we have company and after the Halloween incident we clarified that he’s not allowed to answer the door in his underwear.

What is the “Halloween incident” you ask? Logan had come in from trick or treating and instantly shed his costume and clothing for comfort sake. We were busy sorting through his candy (one for Logan, one for daddy – okay that’s not what daddy was SUPPOSED to be doing). The doorbell rang and before we could stop him Logan yelled “I’ll get it” and ran to the door, flinging it open to three little princess trick or treater’s and three equally horrified mamas. Logan stood there with the candy bowl grinning at them not one ounce of embarrassment. Needless to say I doubt the girls ate THAT piece of candy.

Speaking of answering the door partially naked, Scott answered the door in a towel the other day when Logan was dropped off by our friend and Scott happened to be in the shower at the time. Logan being Logan, rang the doorbell, over and over and over, and over and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over…until Scott threw on a towel and answered the door.

Kenzie, our friend’s thirteen year old daughter who was in the car with her mom (also named Shannon), will most likely need therapy. I’m surprised she didn’t ask “Hey why is Scott wearing a sweater?” then Shannon would have had to explain “No honey, he’s not…”

Well that about sums up a day in the life, not only do I need to get out more, I may need more therapy, I’ve heard Shock therapy is effective…

P.S, check out my poetry at Pathetic.com!
 
Also - Check out my pal Tracey's Blog - http://thelottalottainbetween.blogspot.com/ - she's a talented and funny lady!

Idle Hands - a poem

In the lonely echo of the night
The spot next to me
Is empty

Like my hand
Where it sometimes
Wraps around
Moves ever
So slow
Up and down

your brain.

Morning marathons and piles of sex

I hate Monday mornings. You get up, it’s too early, you’re still tired, and the kids are whiny because it’s a school day IF you can overhear them through your whining that it’s a work day!

Then there’s lunches, daycare drop off, the morning commute and the IV drip of caffeine to keep you going. BY the time I even get to work I’m exhausted!

You should see us in the morning, it would be highly amusing to be a fly on the wall as first I attempt to peel myself out of bed, hitting the snooze button a few times, because I set the alarm for earlier than I actually HAVE to get up. Then realize, crap I’ve passed the time I should get up and tumble out of bed to the bathroom where I sit for a moment and try and remember my name.

Then I shower, change and run around like mad waking up kids, re-waking up kids, yelling at kids to get their butts out of bed, then wrangling clothes onto my giant seven year old son who has the co-ordination of a rock before 7am. Then there is the reminder to the eleven and a half year old to put on deodorant so she doesn’t kill her classmates with her stench, then the reminder to brush her hair, then the reminder to brush her teeth, then the nagging to eat some breakfast, then the re-reminder to put on deodorant.

Then there’s the “No, Logan we don’t have time for bacon” and the mad breakfast rush, the chocolate milk discussion, the lunch cramming into backpacks, the look at the clock and the “HOLY CRAP, we’re late! Move it! Move it! Where at this point everyone and everything slows down to slug speed as I rush around trying to push them out the door to the van, while brushing my teeth, finding socks, yanking the toddler from his warm bed, shoving a cup into his mouth and wrapping him in a blanket, grabbing my purse, lunch and keys while trying to shove my feet into my shoes as I try to beat the house alarm that I’ve already turned on, slam the door closed and belt the toddler into his seat.

Phew, I’m exhausted just writing it down! Speaking of tired, why do alarm clocks even have snooze buttons? It’s a trap people get into, setting their alarm clocks early because they know they can always hit snooze, which they inevitably do but rarely do you get up before the time you have set in your head. My husband can hit the snooze button for a good hour before he gets up or I clock him over the head and tell him to shut off the damned alarm!

I had a fun weekend of folding laundry, since my husband thinks that doing laundry consists of putting it the washer, putting it into the dryer and then dumping on the floor in our bedroom. Men. If he thinks he’s gonna get lucky all week let me tell you, I’ll turn him on, get him hot and then dump him on the floor in our bedroom.

Next to the clean laundry.

Bubble baths and Hobbits

Have you ever looked at your toes? I mean really looked? I sat on the couch last night and stared at my feet for a very long time (I was supposed to be completing the year end for our Girl Guide Unit’s financial books but apparently have the same focus problems as my son – “Oh look, Shiny!”). I discovered something very interesting. Feet are ugly. Even worse, toes are VERY ugly. They look like discombobulated fingers with hair on them!

Okay maybe only my toes have hair, and not the average woman, but hey what can I say, if I were born on Middle Earth I would have been a Hobbit, which also explains the second breakfast and the fat ass! Anyway, back to toes, stare at yours for a while. Are they not ugly or what?

Although I still think baby toes are cute. I stared at Finnegan’s toes last night and they didn’t get ugly, even after really looking. In fact they were all pink and cute and kissable. Don’t know where he got them from because mine are definitely ugly and I wouldn’t kiss Scott’s feet if he paid me.

Speaking of toddlers, last night at the usually bath time Finnegan discovered something new and wonderful! If you fart in the bathtub it makes bubbles! He giggled like mad and tried to push another one out. He managed to get another one out and burst into a chorus of delightful giggles that had me smiling (even though my feet are ugly). He only managed them twice and then pushed so hard I thought for sure he was going to poop in the tub. Luck was on my side however.

Then he stood up and peed in the tub, which makes him impossibly happy, although it was kind of gross when he tried to catch the flow. Kids are seriously gross specimens.

So Scott went to Parent teacher conferences for the kids yesterday (they recently got their second report card). Apparently Logan, our seven year old son, has problems focusing. I know this shocks those of you who know him that his ten second attention span causes problems focusing. We were shocked too. Seriously, it’s like telling us that Logan has a penis. “Yes, thank you teacher, we know, he’s always touching it”.

I feel badly for his teacher, she’s a very lovely lady who works hard with Logan and I have no ideas for her. Well, except Duct tape and apparently that’s against school policy. What makes it worse is his teacher also had Meghan as a student (Logan’s big sister) who is brilliant, thoughtful, listens and can focus and pay attention (well now that puberty has hit we’re having our doubts!). I did warn his teacher. I said to her at the beginning of the year “remember Meghan and what a pleasure you said she was to have in your class? Well Logan’s not like that. Except he’s cute and charming.” I think perhaps she thought I was either joking or exaggerating.

A quick update on Meghan, she’s been diagnosed with Benign Rolandic Seizure disorder, which I suppose is the least of the issues it could have been. We are immensely relieved, although we still have to have the baby monitor in her room. When I Googled the disorder it mentioned that children with this may have behavioural problems. Meghan has displayed this recently. It’s called puberty.

Anyway, that is a day in the life of me. I obviously need to get out more.

Peeing in the bathtub

Is it wrong to sit and laugh from the sofa when your toddler is about ten feet away stuck under the dining room table screaming at you from the bars of the chair legs? So I get up to rescue him and give him his cup and what does he do? Throws his cup and grabs the chair to pull it back into place.


Apparently he just needed a reason to protest and the mommy just went and ruined it. Now I’m back on the sofa laughing at him as he protests at me. Although his attention seems to have moved on to the straw he’s holding in his hand. He is still every few seconds letting out a howl but they just aren’t as convincing!

Toddlers are an endless source of amusement. Take the bath for instance. He sat in a tub full of toys and played primarily with the facecloth, the hair rinsing bucket, his belly button and his penis. Our family doctor gave him this squirt bottle that you are supposed to use to power wash your sinuses (that hurts like a hot damn by the way), which Finnegan had great fun standing up and squirting until just recently, when he discovered he could get the same affect if he stood up, held his penis and peed in the tub. A great many giggles have erupted over that particular game. Unless his seven year old brother is in the tub with him, then it causes giggling AND screaming.

It amazes me how kids can play for a long period of time in a very small amount of lukewarm, then cold water and not want to get out. I’d be a shivering mass of flesh, fat and bone. Although, I would probably end up with about the same amount of water in my bath, albeit a little warmer. Put an inch of water in and my fat ass fills the tub to overflowing. Although I don’t pee in the tub as a general rule.

My sister and family came to visit from South Carolina recently, which was lovely. It’s always nice to remember why I am so inadequate! My sister Jodi is a Doctor; weighs about 100 lbs soaking wet and is extremely likable. What a bitch huh?

Anyway, she has a ten month old son. Guess what his name is? Casey. Yep, our family is whacked. Casey and Finnegan may no longer be on Mr. Dress-up but they have come home to us! It was completely not on purpose either. I just hope the next one isn’t called “Mr. Dress-up” or her husband doesn’t break his tickle trunk trying!

It’s been a slow week in a day of, can you tell? Anyway, off to rescue the toddler who is trying to stick the straw UP his nose now.

Ode to snot

I have a cold yet again, I swear to god that this house should be deemed the house of snot or germs.  Kids are on spring break so I can't even blame it on the institution of learning.  Not sure why every time I take time off I get sick.  It's like my body says "We ain't getting paid" and shuts down.  My body has a union and apparently the contract is up!

Finnegan is also full of snot and everytime he sneezes he wipes his arm across his face to ensure complete snot coverage.  It's pleasent.  Between the snot and the poop I'm not surprised I'm sick.  Kids are gross, with a capital G.  Good thing they're cute.  Right now Finnegan is in front of me running in circles, giggling like mad, speaking some foreign language as he goes.  Cracker bits and snot are flying everywhere.
I swear I need to have someone come in with industrial strength anti-bacterial pressure washers to spray  this place down.  Finnegan is yelling at me and smiling so he obviously agrees.  Not much to report on this week.  Everything tastes like phlegm. 



Ode to snot

Oh wonderful snot, bright and green
Oozing from this hazy bean

Filling up my every pore
Lovingly packed to my very core

Sticky, gooey, germs they run
Kicking back and having fun

Flying out with every sneeze
Dancing on the chilly breeze

Singing songs of silly schemes
Smiling through these web filled dreams

Climbing up and pulling down
Always green and never brown

Oh wonderful snot so full of grace
Sticking to this cranky face

The many uses of duct tape

It’s been a week since I wrote in my blog, it seems as I’m as inconsistent with this as I am with everything in my life, with exception to my regularity! Too bad bran doesn’t work for all aspects of my life.


Megs had a sleep deprived EEG yesterday, which meant I had to keep her up until midnight and wake her up at 5am and keep her awake. Let me tell you, she had a hard time keeping me awake! That and Finnegan waking me up every hour due to his nose, throat and I’m pretty sure stomach by now filled with snot, life was good in my household yesterday. I was like a house of ten women all riding the crimson wave simultaneously. Scott was lucky to be working graveyards.

So I’ve decided what to name my next child if I were to have another one. Fartimer. Yes folks it IS a real name, I was looking up the meaning of Finnegan’s name online the other day and as I was scrolling down I couldn’t help but see this wonderful name. Think about it, yelling out the front door “Farty, it’s time for supper”. So Scott has a choice, vasectomy or Fartimer. He’s probably just read this and is now frantically googling local Vasectomy doctors! (He’s knows I’d do it!)

Why was I looking up the meaning of Finnegan’s name you ask? Well someone at work asked what his name meant. Beyond telling them “Mr Dress-up’s Sock puppet dog” I couldn’t tell them. People apparently demand meaning in lives and names. Pfft. Logan was named after Wolverine from the comic book. You can certainly tell I’m a deep and meaningful person.

Have you ever noticed how cute kids are when sleeping? I just went to check on my brats, I mean angels and had to smile at how beautiful they are. I think when you become a parent you somehow suffer brain damage. It strikes me as odd as to how you can stare down at a sleeping child and think about how beautiful, precious and wonderful they are when for the past fifteen hours before the little buggers succumbed to sleep they drove you to the brink and made you think of creative ways you could use duct tape. Ain’t parenthood grand?

Well all of my babies are asleep except the eleven and a half year old so I’m going to try to pass out and drool all over Scott’s pillow since he had the audacity to work graveyards tonight. Night night.

In need of a teddy bear - a poem by Shan

In gloomy darkness
The vague sound of rubber
Splash by on wet roads

Chubby raindrops knock
Against chilly window panes
Echo through my heart

Every resonance
Kick starts already fragile nerves
Stomps air out of lungs

Until the pressure
Constricts all rational thought
Where now fear remains

Torture chambers and arguments with ellipticals

So I was right, at the end of the work day today I was tired, cranky and craving Chinese food. You know I’ve read many of those inspirational stories about women who have lost weight, gotten into shape and become famous for it. While their motivation and conviction astounds me it also puzzles me. Heck I’m still trying to stop the insanity.


I wonder how the hell they had the fortitude. Me, I WANT to be healthy and thinner for sure but I can’t seem to get myself to the point where I actually begin to “live” it. If I could find a diet that had chocolate and a diet program that writing poetry would give me majorly toned muscles I’d be the fittest person by now!

So even though I was tired and cranky I went to the gym after work. Just walking in the door made me feel more tired, but I got changed and went out onto the torture floor. I got onto the elliptical machine, which by the way is harder than it looks. I love all the skinny chicks in a row pumping away, flipping their Gossip Magazines, texting and looking bored. Me, I look like I’m battling to the death with the machine and it is definitely winning.

So I managed to get the machine going eventually, by this time I’m sweating like a pig and looking around furtively hoping the cameras don’t record things. About two minutes in all of a sudden it smells like fermenting celery, I guess it stands to reason that the skinny chicks are eating copious amounts of celery to stay thin. The lady to my left sniffs loudly all of a sudden and makes a kind of strangling noise before glaring over at me in disgust. I felt like asking her if I really looked like I eat a lot of celery. Besides, when I fart, I giggle like a four year old, so it wasn’t me. But man did it stink.

To the right of me I have one of the blond skinny chicks pumping away watching the food network, which is a whole different kind of torture. About five minutes into my exercise and about ten pounds of sweat, I look over and see a triple layer fudge cake displayed on her screen. Now that’s just cruel. She’s probably also the celery farter.

Trying to amuse myself so I don’t vomit I looked to the row in front of me to witness two young, skinny girls on the treadmills with the incline so high they had to hold on with both hands. I was captivated, watching to see if one of them would fly off and make my entertainment value higher.

Done with the evil elliptical I ventured over to the circuit training section and went to work. There weren’t many people in the section so I thought it would be a great place to work out. There was one lady in front of me on station 2 when I started on #1. Obviously she didn’t read the giant instruction signs for the circuit and continued to use the machine after the light went red, then green again. A bit annoyed but ok I simply went ahead of her and continued on my way. Well she was obviously there just to annoy me because she finally got off station 2 and went straight to station 4 just ahead of me again. She proceeded to do this the ENTIRE circuit.

I think I should get a gold metal just for not running her over with a treadmill. So now I’m home, stinky, tired and irritated. AND I’m still craving Chinese food. But Sesame chicken may be bad, bad, bad for you, but it is sooo soo tasty. Instead I had a fillet of sole, brown rice and asparagus. Tomorrow it will be me farting on the treadmill.

Smoke and mirrors

"Nope, you don't look any thinner from this angle."







Ain't that always the case.  I watched a lady walk across the crosswalk this morning on my way to work who was so large she had trouble walking and all I could think about was "that could be me"!

I have the desire to be thin just not the motivation, conviction and drive and apparently as much as my 7 year old thinks they sell everything at Wal-Mart they do not sell that!

Speaking of seven year olds, mine was born without a filter.  I hope he grows into one but currently he lets you know what he's thinking when he's thinking it.  The other night he said "Mama, I'm not sayin' this to be mean but you are kinda fat.  You gotta watch out or you might have another baby".  Isn't he precious?

I saw a picture of my wedding the other day and thought "I want to look like that chick!".  You know you've fallen far when you see a cute guy you always chat with at work and now are avoiding him based solely on vanity. 

I found a new quote for my desk at work:

“People often say that motivation doesn't last. Well, neither does bathing - that's why we recommend it daily.”  - Zig Zigler

Now if only I was motivated as much as I bathed! And it's a good thing I bath more than I'm motivated!

This morning I feel motivated to be thin.  Not sure how I'll be tonight, probably tired, cranky and craving Chinese food.  Besides the fact I want it now.  I'm Instant gratification girl.  Only without the tights, because just because they sell spandex in my size doesn't mean I should wear it.

Big beavers and motivation

So I made “cookies” from my “Eat Clean Diet” cookbook (if you can call them that! They’re so full of fibre, wheat germ, ground flaxseed, etc that I thought for sure I’d be pooping at rocket speed by bedtime last night. It wasn’t so, much to my confusion. So either my body is resistant or the mother load is coming. Next time I should add some butter chicken, that’ll do the trick!


Did you all see the giant beavers at the Olympics closing ceremonies? They were huge! Bigger than my beaver after three kids! I personally thought the show was hilarious and am surprised some people took offense. I really want one of those flashing beaver hats, Scott could wear it to bed, beaver hunting. :P

Well now that the Olympics are over so is my traffic nirvana. When it took me half an hour to get to work one day from Surrey to North Vancouver I almost cried I was so happy. Sadly, the people have re-entered the regular traffic and completely ruined my commute. Damn people and their return.

The “eating clean” is going as you can tell by the cookie event but to be honest I haven’t lost a pound since I was sick, although I’m pretty sure I’ve crapped enough that I should have lost twenty pounds. I have a plan of exercise this week now I just have to war against my laziness and exhaustion and actually action that plan. It looks so much better on paper; I almost wish I could leave it there.

So as I start a new week and a new exercise plan my ass wave’s goodbye to you from the skeleton track. As you can see, I’m quite enthusiastic.