New residents in my brain

Definitions, regulations and rules
File in, uniform and in perfect order
See all of the empty spaces

Smile smugly
Unaware of the fate
That truly awaits

In the other room
Where random chaos
Plays the warden

And before a chance to settle in
A whirlwind collects them
And takes pleasure in his work

when wrong numbers become your only entertainment

It’s been so long since I’ve written in my blog, well except the odd post to whine about how busy I am or express sadness over a dear friend. So, this morning instead of studying I think I’ll write. I have until December 10th to study for my final exam, so I have plenty of time, I can study in all of my free time.


When I tell my kids mommy is having free time they may look at me like I’ve grown a third boob but at least it will be entertaining. Although the two and a half year old will try to join me in “free time” which will then consist of him trying to sit on my study notes, throw the blankets over our heads so we can giggle madly and “hide”. Yep, we’re invisible.

So I had something funny happen to me recently that I thought I’d share. It all started on Halloween morning at 3:30 am, when I received an odd text message. The message said “Hey it’s me Eagon, the Irish guy, I just wanted to make sure you got home ok, I had fun tonight”. When I read the message I thought, have I finally cracked? Has my personality finally split and taken separate directions? Since I was sitting in my bed, where I’d been for several hours I figured maybe not. I chalked it up to some drunken guy misdialing after a “fun night”.

Scott and I were grocery shopping the next day when I received another text message, which commented on my dancing skills, and how I had some good moves but needed to work on them. While I agreed with the assessment, I was pretty sure it wasn’t my moves that Eagon the Irish guy had been observing. I suppose I should have texted back and let the poor sap know he had either received an incorrect cell phone number or had written it down wrong.

For the next couple of days, no more text messages, so I assumed that Eagon had realized the situation or forgotten. No such luck.

On Wednesday I was at work drowning in emails when my personal cell phone rang. (I have two cell phones now, one for work and a personal one, I feel kind of like a drug dealer). I don’t have call display on my personal cell, so wondering who would be calling me in the middle of the day I answered.

It was my new friend Eagon and the conversation went something like this:

Irish guy: “Um, hi, I have this number in my cell phone and am just trying to figure out who it is”

Me: “Hello?”

Irish guy: “Yeah, I was just wondering, were you at a club the night before Halloween?”

Me: “Nope, I was in bed sick”

Irish guy: “oh, you okay?”

Me: “Yes, thanks – what can I help you with?”

Irish guy: “are you sure you weren’t out?”

Me: “pretty positive”

Irish guy: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Shannon”

Irish guy: “Nice Irish name”

Me: “Thanks”

Irish guy: “well...what do you look like?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Irish guy: “Well are you tall or short?”

Me: “Short”

Irish guy: “what colour hair do you have?”

Me (starting to enjoy myself): “dark”

Irish guy: “eyes?”

Me: “two”

Irish Guy (laughs): “What colour are they?”

Me: “Green”

Irish guy (talks to buddy in background): “How big are your boobs?”

Me (choking on my diet coke): “I don’t know!”

Irish guy: “Sure you do, are they big?”

Me: “My husband seems to think so”

Irish guy (awkward silence): “You’re married?”

Me: “Yes I am”

Irish guy: “want to have an affair?”

Me (laughing so hard my cheeks hurt): “no. But thanks for the offer – you’re a funny guy”

Irish guy: “Yes, I am. So...are you hot?”

Me: “I have no idea”

Irish guy: “come one, give me an idea, between 1 and 10, what would you be?”

Me: “Uh, I don’t know, a seven (I was being generous)

Irish guy: “oh, you’re hot then”

Me: choking on laughter “Ok Eagon, nice chatting with you, I have to get back to work now”

Irish guy: “Where do you work?”

Me: “I am not going to tell you that”

Irish guy: “do you work at an engineering company?”

Me: “No”

Irish Guy: “Too bad, I could have asked for a job – what business are you in?”

Me: “government” (ok not entirely accurate but whatever, the conversation was ridicules anyway)

Irish guy: “cool, can you extend my Visa?”

Me: “nope, okay, I’m hanging up now, thanks for the laugh”

Irish guy: “Bye, nice chatting with you, sure you don’t want to have an affair with me?”

Me: “I’m hanging up now”

I have to be honest, that five minute phone conversation made my day, I hadn’t laughed that hard in quite some time, so I did what any sane person would do, I called my husband and told him all about it. I also told him that he better be good because I have connections and could replace him at any time. He just laughed, go figure.

That was the sum of the fun and exciting things happening in my life these days. What can I say; I live vicariously upon misdialed phone calls and toddlers who must touch everything. I can’t quite remember a time when I wasn’t surrounded by chaos, but man, there are moments where I wish I could leave that chaos at the door. CALGON TAKE ME AWAY.

Only problem is, my bathtub is tiny, or I’m huge, either way, all my bathtub can handle is me and about an inch of water, so any bath time escape is futile. Besides, when I do try to have a nice relaxing bubble bath I end up with the eight year old on the toilet taking a giant dump, the two year old wanting to climb in fully clothed, the cat meowing on the counter, the phone ringing from the back of the toilet and the husband coming in to nag the eight year old. It’s super relaxing.



Pathetically, that’s about all I have to report. I know I say this a lot, but I really need to get out more.

How to look like a dumb starfish.

As any of you who actually read my crap know. I’ve been conspicuously absent recently here at the home of my blog. To be honest I haven’t done any writing over the past couple of months which is unheard of for me. Usually you can’t shut me up (even duct tape is only a temporary gag) but work lately has consumed all of my time.


It’s funny, many times I wished for the promotion I actually received on June 28th of this year but damn, it’s hard. The job itself isn’t unknown to me and I am capable of doing the job but the work piles up and just when I think I’ve got a handle on it, I look around the desk and table space of my office and sigh. Piled up are projects and file folders, initiatives and principles. Many of these items I thought of in the spirit of innovation and setting a good foundation to my leadership role at work. I always forget when I open my big fat mouth with another idea it means more work.

Now I bitch, whine and complain but truly this past couple of months while insanely busy have been rewarding. I feel like I’m making a difference and I am a part of something worthwhile. Still it’s exhausting to be eating, sleeping, thinking work. I’m not a workaholic by nature, I strive to do a good job and work hard but I’ve never put work first. These past couple of months have been crazy and I’m feeling the consequences now as it takes me over two weeks to get over the flu.

I’m even dreaming work. Do you ever have those dreams where you’re at work, doing everything wrong or naked or doing something really stupid? Please say yes, or I’ll feel like a total nutcase. Anyway, I’m having dreams all the time so when I wake up I feel like I’ve already been at work for hours! Why can’t I dream about fun things, like sleeping?

So, as you can see I’ve been a barrel of laughs. I got sick a couple of weeks ago when I had a week off, boy do I know how to have a good time. I’m pretty sure if I’d told Scott we were going to spend the whole week in bed for our time off together he would have pictured something totally different than reality.

Have you ever had a cold sore? I get them now and again when my immune system has been down, but it’s been a couple of years. Well luckily for me I made up for lost time, I got a cold sore the size of a Buick last week, which was especially fun given I was in a Manager’s course networking with other Manqgers. Nothing says “sexy” like a giant scab on between my lips and nose; although for once other people got to speak, because I was too worried about drawing attention to my beauty mark.

In totally unrelated news the two year old has taken a liking to Sponge Bob Square Pants, which is just super. It’s Logan all over again where Scott started to relate our life to Sponge Bob episodes. “This reminds me of that episode of Sponge bob where Patrick....”

Speaking of Patrick, have you seen those lovely “Snuggy” blankets in the stores or on tv? Who actually buys that crap? I saw one the other day that was bubblegum pink for breast cancer awareness. Excellent cause but if I wore the pink snuggy I’d look like Patrick Star (see picture). Not to mention then I’d be tempted to wear it places like Wal-Mart.

So my two year old (who likes Sponge Bob or “babob” as he calls him) also have some favourite sayings. “eeewwww grosh” and “okeydokey”. That kids cracks me up. Except when he decides he’d like to be attached to me like a leech. Like this morning when I was puking my guts into the toilet bowl while trying not to throw up on Finnegan’s head. That was super fun.

As I often say, I need to get out more and if I’m going to feel like I drank a litre of vodka yesterday I wish at least I could have enjoyed the fun of it first. Now I’m off back to bed, I’m apparently in a competition with the two year old to see who can have an earlier bedtime. I’m winning.

Mittens the destroyer - goodbye my friend.

My companion, confident and friend, mittens the destroyer, 18 years old, which they say is old for a cat left the living today but it wasn't nearly enough time for me to spend with him. He listened when I needed an ear, cuddled when i needed a hug and became larger than life in the eyes of a little girl. From six weeks old he would climb onto my bed, bury his head in my hair and knead like I was his mama. He did that until a week ago, and where he used to leave little holes in my head from his claws, he now leaves a huge hole in my heart that I cannot begin to imagine I will ever be able to fill again. A cat that believed he was a person, I don't know if he ever knew, he was so much more, he was everything. There were times in the last 18 years I honestly did not know how I was going to make it through, where he would insert himself in my lap, wrap his arms around my neck and bury his head in my shoulder. So many times I held on for life. I love you Mittens, you helped me go on so many nights, I hope you knew how much you meant.


There are so many wonderful memories I have from this larger than life cat, from his love of human food and his obvious belief that having the highest seniority in the household meant he should have a dedicated spot at the dinner table AND a full plate of food. The memory of his paw slipping up from Meghan’s lap to scoop vittles from her plate as efficiently as possible. From his conviction that he ruled the roost to the reality that some days he truly did, to his moments of vulnerability where he would climb into my hair and knead, he was engrained in the very fabric of my life. My heart feels broken and I have a hard time coming to terms with the cold fact that never again will he be able to hold those broken pieces together with his love.

I love you Mittens, I cannot imagine a life without you, my tears fall where you should be and this ache in my chest is unbearable. I know that it will get less painful with time and for that I am thankful. Mittens, if you’re out there in kitty heaven somewhere I hope you know the imprint you left on not only me but this whole family. Goodbye my friend, thank you for getting me through the last eighteen years knowing unconditionally I was loved. I hope you know so were you.

They just may come true

Whispered wishes upon a star
Wonders where the hell you are
Remembers all those wished so far

Where all my wishes turned to dreams
Where puppets sing with saturnine screams
Psychedelic players and artificial themes

Damn these wishes that returned to me
Taunting the outcomes that all can see
Have me wishing they’d just leave me be

Sunday morning fun

It’s Sunday, the day of rest, so why the heck am I awake before 9am? Damn toddlers and their incessant need to get the most out of a day. Besides the fact that his diaper was exploding, he was raring to go. I’m not so chipper. In fact I would be perfectly happy to blissfully sleep for another three or four hour stretch. I suppose it would make a difference if my bedtime was eight pm. When I was little my parents were lucky if I slept past six in the morning, so perhaps this is what the fates call “payback”.


Although I truly believe someone was looking down on me with sympathy when I had Finnegan. When I found out I was pregnant with another boy, I have to admit I was a little nervous about it. Don’t get me wrong, Logan, my almost eight year old son, is one of the lights of my life. He is also very high maintenance. While Meghan, my twelve year old sulks in silence (mostly) Logan wears all of his emotions and thoughts on his sleeve. You KNOW how Logan is feeling all of the time, in Stereo. Where Meghan has always been pretty easy to take care of, doing a lot of things herself, Logan wants me to help him, with EVERYTHING. It’s great to be needed, really, but there can be a limit to this!

When Logan was little (not that Logan was ever really little, since he’s always been about two sizes bigger than the rest of his age group!) he would get up, oh around six am (damn karma and that whole payback thing) come into my room and stand beside my bed with his head right up to mine. He’d just stand there and stare. Have you ever had someone stare at you in close proximity? It’s kind of a creepy feeling. Not quite as much though as opening your eyes to find yourself staring into the giant brown eyes of a toddler. If that tactic didn’t work for Logan, he would peel open my eyelids and say in a big stage whisper “MAMA, ARE YOU AWAKE?”

So when Finnegan came along, I had some serious reservations. He turned out to take after his daddy more than me, THANK GOD. He’s really easy going, a smiley boy that isn’t high maintenance. Which is good, Logan and I are enough high maintenance for one family!

Although Meghan has reached full puberty and is showing increasing signs of unreasonableness. She goes from perfectly normal, sweet, thoughtful Meghan to a hormonal she-monster within mere seconds. She doesn’t quite comprehend yet though that mommy has had years of practice with hormonal rampages so she can’t possibly master mine.

Last week before she went to camp we were all cleaning up the house when she came stomping up the stairs to bring me something. I asked her what the problem was

In her snottiest voice possible she said “ I WAS trying to play with my friend but instead I’M RUNNING around the house DOING THINGS”.

To that I replied “REALLY? Well you do not have to have a friend stay over again and I certainly don’t have to spend hundreds of dollars to send you to camp, if you are not willing to be a member of this household and pull your weight”. I was a little pissy about it, I ‘ll admit, but it got my point across nicely, and for the rest of the morning she was uber helpful and thoughtful.

“Mommy, is there anything else I can do for you?” That was much better. It’s helpful for your children to be a little afraid of you. Trust me.

So back to Logan, my drama queen, I think I’ve mentioned previously that it’s a good thing the kid has charm and cuteness. The other night I was tired and cranky (a state I seem to be in a lot lately) and was upstairs in my room changing for bed. Logan came racing into my room in an obvious panic. Standing just inside my door in his jammies (ok, I’m not sure if tighty whities can be considered jammies, but we’ll just go with that). He’d been in bed for a while so I was about to give him crap for being up when he opened his mouth to speak, looking at me with his humongous brown eyes, all serious and welling with tears.

He said “Mama, I NEED to ask you something”

So instead of telling him to go to bed, I said “Ok buddy, what is it?”

He took a deep breath, paused and then blurted in a quick rush “If I got turned into a frog will you still love me?” After which his giant eyes stared me down, waiting for the answer

With a perfectly straight face and even tone of voice (I was so proud of myself!) I replied “Yes buddy, if you got turned into a frog I’d still love you”

The instant relief on his face was almost comic as he plopped down on my bed and replied "Oh thank goodness!"

Ok first of all "thank goodness”? What is he an eighty year old woman?

Second, WTF? Where does this boy get these things? I swear this kid makes my brain hurt.

So being mature and responsible I tucked him back into bed, kissed him good night, reassured him I love him and managed to get out of his room before I burst into a lovely fit of the giggles. Then I told everyone I could think of and now am writing it here in my blog. He really made my night.

Oh well, I figure, my kids will need therapy eventually (everyone does), I may as well make it easier for them to blame me!

Work is still dominating my life but I have to say I am enjoying learning the ins and outs of management. I did warn my boss that I require much development, and am sometimes slow to learn. Hopefully she remembers that as I transition to the dark side! Just when I think I’m getting a handle on things, another wrench gets thrown into the cog. Damn wrenches.

I signed up for my next course in Insurance, which begins in November and is a fast track. Because you know I don’t have enough demands on my time, I needed another challenge. Or perhaps I need to up my dose of crazy pills.

In diet news I’ve lost 17 pounds since the beginning of this blog. Yes ladies and gentlemen, 17 pounds!!! I know it keeps looking for me like a lost child in the grocery store calling me back. I’m resisting, but some days that evil chocolate or deep fried goodness catches my attention. I try to convince myself that vegetables are the best tasting things in the world, but as I’m farting my way down the hall it’s hard to keep up that image. Chocolate never gave me gas. My exercise program is sporadic, some weeks I do it and some weeks I think of every excuse not to. Things like having a migraine (which was SUPER fun by the way), having killer cramps, being tired, and work all worked out to be convenient excuses, except the fact that my ass is not shrinking on these weeks either.

In other news, my sister found a place and is very excited to be moving next week. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to the house being a little less full than it currently is. Now if I could only convince her to take some of MY children with her...

Okay gotta go, my toddler is singing at the top of his lungs as he pours water onto his peanut butter toast. Good times.

Jeff is my favourite, I have this hanging up in my office and Jeff never fails to make me smile.  He reminds me so much of myself.

Oatmeal goodness and lazy fairies.

The good news, I’m not dead. The bad news, I am so tired I kind of feel zombieish. I haven’t written in my blog in forever. The real world has come crashing in to interfere with all of the things I like to do, like write and sleep. Writing and sleeping are two of my favourite hobbies but I haven’t had much chance to do either. That evil thing called work has intruded my pleasure. It has evaded every nook and cranny of my life these days. That just goes to show that you should always watch what you wish for, it just may come true. Boy was I a sucker.

So as you may have read previously, I’ve been trying to diet and exercise, which is super fun. That is the other thing that is taking up my time. The other night when I was at the gym I went through the torture chamber they call “circuit training” the lady in front of me who would follow the traffic lights (green means move your ass and red means catch your breath and then get your fat ass to the next machine of torture). Except she would climb onto the machine, sit there, talk on her cell phone, maybe do one repetition. Considering she was skinny it was apparently working for her. Didn’t work so well for me.

Have you ever noticed that the machines on a circuit training loop kind of look like a line up of torture machines? There is one there that looks like some odd birthing chair where you push out impossibly wide with your thighs to work those muscles. Then there is the crunch machine, which basically folds you in half to work your abs. After three kids I can’t even find my abs, I’m not even sure they still exist.

The diet thing has been sketchy too. I’m following this one that has recipes you can make meals from. I made this lovely concoction that had 2 ounces of tuna, plain yogurt and twelve, yes count them twelve, tablespoons of dry oatmeal. Mother of god it was like eating paste that has been drying out because someone left the lid off. It was awesome. Really. Next time any of you stop by I can make you some. Guaranteed you’ll lose weight... from starvation.

My household still has nine members, and let me tell you 1650 square feet doesn’t go that far with that many people in the house. I thought dinner time was chaotic before well now it’s like a gong show and circus combined, at feeding time. Let’s just say the lions and monkeys are hungry.

On Saturday I was wishing for the cleaning fairies to come to my house. So about those fairies. They came, but then formed a Union. They called it Fairies United Carefree Union. It makes for a great acronym. But they didn't clean my house. Wasn't in their collective agreement. Damn fairies.

Anyway, I’m so tired I can’t even be funnier, how sad is that. I should seek therapy, but then I’d need to work even more to pay for it.

stupid people and their entertainment value

The giggling has finally stopped. The sweet sound of nothing hits my haggard ears as I wander through the house at 2:52 am. Meghan has her 12th birthday party today and for the duration of the afternoon and evening the sound of 12 to 14 year old incessant giggling has been ringing in my ears. Oh sweet silence. Now if I could only have sweet, dreamless sleep that would be GREAT!

There are two things preventing me from sleeping right now. The first is the inevitable nightmares about really bad essays and interviews (I’m currently hiring – don’t ask!) The second may have something to do with the fact that I feel like I have a bobble head that weighs about ten times what it should. It kind of feels like I have a hundred pounds of snot jam packed into my sinuses having an all night giggle fest. Fun times.

So I’ve signed up for my second course to get the designation I need to get for my profession. The second out of ten fun and exciting University style courses on Insurance. If you think I’m paranoid now wait until I know even MORE about all of the risks out there. The first course I did was action packed full of incredibly fun Insurance lingo, history and principles. My next one is on Automobile Insurance. My brain hurts just thinking about the fun memorizing ahead of me. I should have told my oldest child that mediocre is the new thing instead of always pushing them to do their best. This whole leading by example thing is highly overrated.

Speaking of being smart I saw one such individual on my way to work the other morning. It was an unsuspecting Friday morning as I dragged my tired ass into my van and headed into rush hour traffic. I had just started going over the Pattulo Bridge and was thinking the constant bump, bump, bump as I drove over it was making me have to pee, I happened to glance over to my right. I almost drove into the curb as my mouth fell open. The guy driving beside me in a beat up little car was in the midst of shaving his bald head with what looked like a cheap disposable razor and no shaving cream.

Now I’ve shaved my legs once without shaving cream or water and let me tell you, My legs ended up looking like a Band-Aid convention. After shaking my head and mumbling something along the lines of “idiot” under my breath I happily day dreamed all the way to work. In my head was a fun scenario that I will share with you now.

Characters in this scenario:

• Ms. Sally Supervisor

• Mr. Iam A. Moron

The scenario that ran through my head:

Sally Supervisor is sitting at her desk with her giant mug of coffee and to do list when her telephone rings. Cheerfully she answers “Hello, Sally speaking”


On the other end of the line she hears “Hey Sally, I’m just callin’ to let you know I won’t be at work today”


Sally, confused blurts “Ok, how come Iam?”


Mr. Moron says sheepishly “Well uh...”


Sally concerned jumps in “Are you sick Iam? You don’t sound so good”


Iam replies “Well...not exactly”


Even more confused Sally asks “Ok, then what’s up?”


To which Iam replies “Well, I was driving in to work, going over the bridge...I didn’t realize it was so bumpy”


Sally interjects “Oh no Iam, were you in an accident, are you ok?”


“No, no accident....I kind of cut myself shaving...my head...while driving, I’m at emergency now getting stitched up”


Sally, with a scrunched up look on her face asks “You were what?”


“Sorry, Sally, I gotta go, the Doctor wants to check out my head to see if any brain matter leaked out. Don’t worry; he seemed pretty positive none would”

Well kids that’s the scenario that ran through my head all the way to work that day. It had small variations in name and words but this is pretty much it. I suppose it was a good thing I was wearing my Bluetooth, that way it looked like I was talking to someone and laughing at their jokes rather than my own warped sense of humour. The commute that day wasn’t half bad.

Although the more I see people doing things like that the more I agree with Jeff Foxworthy that stupid people should have to wear a sign. I wonder what mine would look like.

I’m hoping on Monday that guy is doing something equally as imaginatively stimulating for me. Not much is fun and exciting in my life these days, I’m working a lot of hours.  It is summer time and my children are already “bored”. Don’t worry I remedied that situation, the list of “fun” things to do was pretty extensive. Just because they don’t think vacuuming falls in the fun category doesn’t mean it’s not.

Okay, it’s now almost three thirty in the morning and the toddler gets up incredibly early. Scott is working graveyards so he whines if I make him stay up to watch the kid. Something about just having worked twelve hours. Pfft. Twelve hours is nothin’

I’m hoping he tells me he’s bored soon, the van could use a good scrubdown.

Sagging and scratching - the joys of womanhood

I’m not going to apologize for not writing lately. Really I’m not. (sorry). I’ve been insanely busy having an allergic reaction to my new medication and scratching various parts of my body at different times of the day, it’s super fun. It’s especially pleasant when I have hives on my inner thighs or beneath my breasts that makes for great scratching.

I did have some fun playing with a site that you can upload your photo and superimprose yourself into different era `yearbook photos`.  As you can see from the picure in this blog I had great fun playing with Scott.  Isn`t he sexy?


So I got a promotion, I am now a manager. That’s all I’m going to say about that. I’d pat myself on the back but I’m too itchy.

Everything else in my life is the same old thing. I did discover something about myself through the process of competing for my promotion though. Patience is just not my strong suit. Scott stop nodding your head, it’s rude to agree with me, unless I want you to of course.

So I’ve lost ten pounds. I’ve been working out on a semi-regular basis and basically eating better. No butter chicken for me but man am I craving it now that I mentioned it. Although I'm still a long way to my ideal body.  I just hope that when I get there my boobs aren't sagging even more than they do now.  After nursing three kids until a year each the perkiness is virtually non existent without a good bra. Don`t believe them when they say breastfeeding doesn`t cause sagging.  If mine sag any more I`ll be able to tuck them into my pants.

Speaking of the little leaches, we had Finnegan’s second birthday party last weekend, and my baby boy is now two. I forgot how much two sucks. The magic age where they discover that they do have a choice in the matter. Although when he refuses to move and I pick him up and carry him to where I want him it kind of defeats the purpose of his defiance. His favourite word is currently “No”. He seems to think it gives him the power. He hasn’t realized yet just how stubborn his mommy is.

The lovely angel of “no-ness” had his immunizations on Thursday and now has a fever and is cranky, which is super fun. I’ve been wearing a toddler all afternoon and even ended up being his nap mat. Inferno boy pressed up against me was a lovely feeling. Kind of like sitting in a sauna fully dressed. Fun times.

Summer has decided to skip the West Coast this year, it’s been gray and yucky almost every day, and I wonder, how can I possibly whine about the heat when there isn’t any? Instead I have to whine about the crappy weather which is so last month. I can’t believe it’s already July, or that Scott and I have been married for almost three years. On one hand it feels like just yesterday that we said our vows and on the other hand it feels like I’ve been with him forever. I’m sure when I’m cranky like I am right now it feels like forever for him too.

He’s okay though, I think I’ll keep him. He cooks. Last night he went out to a movie with a friend and I had to cook for the kids. I made a very nutritious meal of chicken fingers and sidekicks cheddar pasta. My niece commented on my cooking abilities, she apparently inherited the sarcastic streak. Damn kid. (She’s twenty one so I suppose not a kid). Thank goodness for Scott and his love of food. We’d starve otherwise. Although without me nothing else would get done, so I guess it’s a fair trade (just don’t tell Scott that).

I really don’t have much to share today; I’m cranky, restless and itchy. Finnegan has liquid poop so I have made sure Scott changes his diaper when he stinks. Scott is usually distracted enough not to notice until it’s too late. What can I say, I’m evil that way.

This day in the life has been brought to you by anti itch cream, which by the way burns when you accidentally get it into your privates, or your eyes, or the zit that I’ve been picking at all weekend and is not a giant crater on my chin.

On an end note, here is what I'd look like:

I almost peed my pants playing with this website, especially with Scott's mug. He didn't seem to find them as amusing.  Go Figure.

Proudest mama in the whole world

So today as Meghan was getting out of the van she mentions casually that she will be singing a solo of "I Believe" at the Fine arts/Sports award assembly this morning.  Great advance warning kid.  So of course, I wish her luck and head off to work, merrily oblivious until I get a phone call from last year's teacher who asks in a slight panic, "Are you able to come to the assembly this morning?"  I politely let her know that I can't as I'm at work.  She then lets me know that Meghan will be receiving the Fine Arts Award and a trophy with her name on it will be in the cabinet. She also tells me that it is usually awarded to a Grade 7 but this year it was going to Megs, who is in grade 6.  My stomach dropped to my hobbit feet because I missed that opportunity to stand there and clap just loudly enough to embarrass her.

So instead I told anybody who would listen about my baby girl and how great she is.  Until she pisses me off, then she's her father's kid.

Luckily my friend Shannon (no not me!) came to the rescue and just made it to the school in time to video tape Megs getting the award.  Once Shannon figures out how to get it off of her camera I will post.

My middle child, Logan didn't win any awards but he did FINALLY learn to read.  He's making good progress but is not all that pumped about going to summer school to get ready for grade 3. Go Figure.  He did have fun at Beaver camp a couple of weeks ago which was caveman themed and oddly fitting for Logan.

It's a good thing this one is so damn cute.  Or he'd be dead.            

Norah was in her first dance recital this past weekend and Scott went to go see her perform.  He said she was adorable as usual. Four hours of dance recital though.  Fun times.  Norah was in two of the dances.

And finally our baby boy, who turned two today.  I cannot believe it's been two years since I pushed this one out of my body.  Let me tell you labour and delivery seriously bites.  But the kid is worth it.