Forty and Fabulous

Originally this post was to be titled 40 and Don't Give a *^&%, but lets face it, 40 and Fabulous is a bit more ladylike - which I should probably strive to be now that I'm getting up there in years.

Now I know I'm not the hottest 40 year old on the planet - that sadly is someone else's destiny . . . but I think I'm pretty darn fantastic.  Apparently my youngest daughter does as well. In honour of my birthday, she drew a picture of me decked out in my very best.

If you look closely, in  addition to rocking the box dress, I have successfully pulled off the very fashion forward combination of bright pink eyebrows and green blush. Topped off with some super red lipstick and dangly earrings, I am a force to be reckoned with - and let's be honest - not everyone can rock this look the way I do. This, my friends, is the confidence that comes along with turning 40.



Only a few short months ago, I had a completely different image. My daughter and her friend, obviously astounded by my beauty, were inspired to capture it with marker.

As you can see I was still relying on plain jane pink blusher, and apparently, in an effort to look more like Angelina Jolie, had stuck my mouth in the vacuum one day in order to achieve beautiful, full lips. Thankfully I've outgrown this strange habit. I particularly like the focus on my ample nipples cleavage. Indeed, before I had kids, they really did rest just under my neck - seems like they fell to my belly button overnight. Sigh. The good old days.


Not to be outdone, Ben also proudly pulled out the very special drawing he had made of me at school the day before. 

Not gonna lie . . . I sometimes wonder if he has the eyes of a fly . . . and I worry that he will never pass art. But that's my boy :)

Night all :)


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Goodnight Little Angels aka For Goodness Sake, GO TO SLEEP!

Seriously! Tonight is one of those nights where I would rather be doing just about anything other than putting the kids to bed. They are tired. They are cranky. I am tired. I am cranky. Quickly falling asleep would be a win-win for all involved. So why must they torture me?

It's Thursday night. Premiere night for The Big Bang Theory and Grey's Anatomy. Even though we have a TV outside of their rooms I am not falling asleep on the couch during either of these shows. Instead, I have suffered through the Nature music station offerings for the past hour because frankly, I didn't think the Classic Rock station would help them relax. As I type I am squirming in my seat listening to the waves roll in and out and willing my bladder to 'stay strong' because any sudden movement might trigger the panicked chorus of 'Mom! Where are you going?!?!'. I've already had them all jump out of bed and rush to my side while I did my business once tonight - no sense in having a repeat performance. Sigh.

Please tell me this doesn't just happen in my house - surely everyone else's kids assume that the minute they fall asleep Mommy & Daddy are going to make a run for it to goodness knows where. I could only wish to have somewhere exciting and thrilling to sneak off too - frankly finishing the dishes and making school lunches doesn't really rank very high up there on the 'I can't WAIT to do this list'. Especially when I'm tired. And cranky. 

Silence. Sweet, sweet silence.

I peek in their rooms and see them sprawled out on their beds, slight smiles on their little faces. Such precious babies of mine - I could watch them for hours. And suddenly, I'm not cranky anymore. 

So I will finish the dishes, and make the lunches, and maybe grab a couple jello shots out of the fridge because I didn't have dessert tonight. 

And then I will crawl into bed, grateful for the blessings that are my children.

One of Those Days

We've all had those days, right? You know, the one's that start in the middle of the night when you are woken by an upset child, bad dream, or simply your brain deciding to pop into overdrive at 2 a.m.  

Or maybe it doesn't even start in the middle of the night - maybe it starts when one kid wakes up early and decides (s)he requires the complete attention of everyone else. Only problem is no one else gives a s&*^ because they are still sleeping. Cue chaos.

I hate the mornings that start like this - mostly because I am most decidedly NOT a morning person. And when one thing starts off poorly, it seems inevitable that everything else decides to bow to peer pressure and follow.

Case in point.  This morning, one of my lovelies decided to conduct a sneak attack at 6:15 a.m. much to the chagrin of his brother and sister. I laid in my bed listening to what sounded a lot like a blood bath occurring upstairs, wondering if I could will myself to leave my bed and intervene. Turned out the answer was no. They soon made their way whining and snivelling downstairs, each trying to win my favour and have the others punished for their heinous ways. After several minutes of pleading with them to please, just be quiet, I gave up and turned on the TV. Cue silence - for two minutes at least.

I hauled my sorry rear end out of bed, and proceeded to stumble to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. The first time I forgot to put the K-Cup in . . . and because I'm high maintenance and want something a little more than just hot water in the morning I tried again.  I put the K-Cup in the second time - however left the cup on the counter. Yeah, that didn't work out so well either.

By the time I cleaned up the mess, all three lovelies were hanging off my legs, begging for breakfast because in their words, I starve them. I started to work on getting their breakfasts ready, contemplating whether or not I might just leave a strand of my hair on their waffles in retaliation for waking me up so darn early.  Thankfully, my third attempt at coffee worked like a charm, and after a couple of sips, I did feel a bit better. Unfortunately for them, I'm getting old and my hair is falling out, so one of them did get lucky and have a little 'extra' with their breakfast. You can use your imagination to decide how that one played out.

I finally got Z out the door for school after much prodding and reminding that he did indeed have school today. He was a little upset with me because I wouldn't figure out 'how many more sleeps it is until summer holidays'. Kinda makes me look forward to the year ahead!

Yes, I can tell already it's going to be one of those days. I haven't decided yet whether I'm just going to crawl back under my covers or drink myself silly - either seems like a pretty good option at this point. Maybe I'll settle for a second cup of coffee and bake some cookies - because a cookie can make any day better, right? 

Have a great day everyone!




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Let Freedom Reign aka Back to School!!!

For the past two months, I have been preparing for today. Those of you who know me understand that this is quite a feat. I am traditionally a procastinator at heart, and often feel my best work is done under pressure.  That being said, when school ended last year, I made a commitment to myself to have everything ready to go before the day before school started this year. 

I got pretty close - the only thing I had to rush around doing yesterday was taking the kids to buy 'indoor shoes'. But you see, there is a method to my madness. If you wait long enough to go to Wal-Mart and buy shoes, there is a very limited selection; therefore taking the pain out of watching three kids try to decide just which shoes they will wear for the next two months because their feet grow faster than a noxious weed at this age. This is particularly true if you go to a Wal-Mart in a small town. Needless to say, none of the kids were really 'happy' with their new shoes - but I was in and out in less than 30 minutes, each pair cost less than $15, and because it's all about me, I didn't really care.

We returned home, and I spent an hour of my life that I will never get back labelling school supplies - you know, the ones I had purchased in July (high five!). As I checked and double checked the list, I was thrilled to discover that the only thing I had missed was a hard case pencil box. Well, I didn't really miss it - but apparently, in Central Alberta, if you don't buy that pencil box on July 1, you are S#%@ Outta Luck. Whatever - I grew up using a pencil case and I think I turned out fine - a little weird - but I don't think that had much to do with where my pencils were stored.

Next up was packing the backpacks. My meticulous planning paid off and I was able to complete this step relatively quickly. There was that little issue of some food left in the bag from last year (eeeewwwww!) but thankfully it was in a plastic container and instead of spending the rest of the afternoon yakking in the toilet, I was able to give the kids a quick science lesson (yay me!) instead. 

Z was the only one actually going to school today so thankfully I just had to make one lunch. It would have been helpful if I could have remembered where in the heck I put his lunch kit last year - but we were able to use his brother's Spiderman kit in a pinch. This resulted in a very long argument discussion with B about it being ok to share his lunch kit. After all, he only had a half hour orientation today - and I reasoned that if I couldn't drink a Gin&Tonic while we were there, he sure as heck couldn't eat. Ok - maybe a flawed argument, but he's five and well, he eagerly accepted the extra time on the computer in exchange for seeing it my way.

After their baths, I helped each of them pick out the clothes they were going to wear today. It sounded something like - 'no, you can't wear that', 'yes, you have to wear underwear', 'no, a bathing suit is not appropriate for kindergarten orientation', and so on and so forth. We eventually reached a resolution that was satisfactory to all - and with that, it was off to bed.

I quickly gave B and Z's glasses a wash and set them on the counter. I was officially "Ready for Back to School". I did it!

I gave myself a quick pat on the back, chugged down a Corona in celebration, and went to bed knowing this would be the last day of the school year that I would be organized and ready to go. Sigh.

Oh yeah - one last thing . . . thankfully I checked the backpacks before I sent them to school this morning. Apparently, one of my children decided that my version of inside shoes wasn't 'fashionable' enough as I discovered these bad boys in the backpack . . .

I don't want to name names, but it *might* rhyme with 'wren'.

Happy Back to School Everyone!

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Bedtime Ritual

If you have children, you are fully aware of how a good, solid bedtime ritual can really make a difference in terms of the kids falling asleep at night. After 6 years, I think we are finally getting there.

Basically, it isn't the kids that are resistant to a routine - it's me. And it isn't really that I'm resistant - it's more that by the time bed time finally rolls around, I'm exhausted and therefore less 'skilled' at being consistent. Well, I could consistently do one thing at least - I could lay on the couch and become comatose while the kids whined, complained, argued, and engaged in other behavior counterproductive to falling asleep.

Really, as a mother, I'm at my prime between the hours of 9 a.m. and 4 p.m. Yes, I am aware that this is generally the time my children are at school - but hey, you make it work, right? After that, all bets are off - and my kids know it.

This year has been different though - and I'm rather proud of myself for making this change. I have instituted a fairly strict bedtime routine, and I have to say it has been moderately successful.

via apartmenttherapy.com

We start by doing the standard wash up, brush teeth, read book stuff and then things get specialized. 

First, I tuck my daughter into her bed - give her a night time snug and kiss, and then whisper in her ear a secret that no one else knows . . . that I love her very, very much. She then proceeds to scowl and growl at me to "never say that to me again", huffs, rolls over, and generally falls asleep within minutes. I can't WAIT for the teen years!

Next up are the boys. They are a little more rough and tumble than their sister, and prefer to have their backs clawed raw by my nails versus a nice, gentle snug. Then comes my favorite part.

 While one is giving me a 'bone crusher hug', the other screams "Choke Her! Choke Her! Is She Dead?!?" until I feign death and lose all control of my limbs. They then proceed to lift and drop my head a few times before either poking me in the eye or punching me in the gut to see if I have actually died. It used to be that they would just tickle my feet - but apparently I didn't give up quickly enough so they resorted to more effective methods.

I then switch boys and repeat the process.  They expend so much energy wrapping their arms around my neck, cheering each other on as they squeeze the life out of me and laughing hysterically at how they've resurrected me from the dead that they fall asleep soon after.

Yes, it is unconventional - and let's face it, downright weird. It probably isn't a routine that you will find recommended in most books or by anyone really, but in our house, we are all about strange and creative.  And if the only way they fall asleep quickly is to choke me to death - twice - well, who am I to argue? 

Funeral Faux Pas

The other day my husband and I went to a funeral for a former colleague of his - he was a great man, but a bit of a loner, and consequently, it was mostly men that he used to work with before retirement who were in attendance.

Of course, by the time we arrived, I had already chugged down an extra large Timmy Ho's, so decided that it would be a good idea to 'use the facilities' before embarking on the Catholic (read: very long) Funeral Mass.

I made my way to the washroom and got myself settled in a stall.  Imagine my surprise when I walked out, and in the mirror saw a man facing the wall beside me. Oh.My.Word. He was . . . peeing! In a urinal. In the men's room. Where I shouldn't be!

I quickly darted out of the bathroom and across the hall into the sanctuary of the women's washroom - a look of horror mixed with amusement etched on my face. I waited until I heard the gentleman leave and allowed him sufficient time to get mixed in with the small group of people gathered in the lobby before gathering up my courage to go back to my husband. 

Not long after, we all gathered in the chapel for the service. My husband led me to a pew, and together we celebrated the life of a colleague and friend. Apparently the good Lord had a sense of humour about my mortification, as when it came time to offer handshakes to those around us, I discovered the man from the bathroom was seated directly behind me. As we shook hands, I could tell by the glint in his eye that he KNEW. I just hope he washed his hands.

But then something amazing happened.  Apparently, I was not to be alone in having an embarrassing moment that day.

First, someone's cell phone began to ring just as the Priest was about to speak the Gospel. It turned out it was the Altar Boy (I use that term loosely as the gentleman was probably in his 70's) - and he proceeded to pull out his phone and read whatever text message he had received while sitting in full view of the congregation. To his credit, he did not appear concerned at all; however the Altar Girl shot him some very stern looks, and I'm quite certain she was having some decidedly un-Christian-like thoughts while doing so.

Next, the Priest inadvertently (I assume) referred to the deceased by his very much alive brother's name not once, but twice during the service. I imagine it is somewhat rare that one would sit in the house of the Lord and publicly and specifically be called a man who has sinned often - even though let's face it, we all are. Thankfully the brother had a great sense of humour, and when the priest shared that he was now surrounded by God's light, he had a glimpse of what others will rarely have - a moment that will occur at his own funeral at some future date and time.

Yes, in the whole scheme of things, I think I got lucky with my little foray into the world of mens restrooms - at least my blonde moment was only shared/witnessed by one other with  no unfortunate (or fortunate for that matter!) glimpsing of private body parts. And for that, I am grateful.

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Who Pee'd in Your Sandbox?

This weekend saw lots of time at the lake enjoying the amazing summer weather. The kids, as always, had a great time - and spent an afternoon building sand castles and other various structures in the playground.

My kids are super smart. They know that in order to build a good sand structure, you can't use dry sand. At the lake this is no problem - there is always lots of wet sand on hand. At the city playground - well, it might be time to improvise.

One day when the kids were visiting their grandma in town, they decided to take the sand toys over to the playground and have a bit of fun. They played and played and played, and from the sounds of their giggles, were having a grand time.

It wasn't until a lady with a sour look on her face popped over to ask if those were "your children" at the playground that we even had a hint that something might be amiss.  Apparently, "our children" had decided that they needed to have some wet sand - and as there was no water source in sight, decided to drop their drawers and pee in their sand buckets.

Now I get it - that's terribly gross, unhygienic, and inappropriate; however at the same time, we couldn't help but feel a little proud that they came up with a way to solve their problem on their own. I mean, they were only 3 at the time!

Needless to say, no peeing at the park - even to make a sand castle - has become a standard rule in our house.  And given their penchant for peeing outside, it looks like it will be rule that's around for a long time.

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