Figuring out what I wanna be when I grow up.
Oop..I AM grown up...

Monday, February 28, 2011

I still Smell Barf

Because Mondays weren't already SUPER DUPER FUN...

It's important to note here that The Man is away on business.  You know:  boring meetings by day, really nice dinner, then peaceful solitude in a clean hotel room?  Y'dig?  I would also like to point out that while I was away in Florida, The Man's parents came and took the kids off his hands for 2 1/2 days, and the week passed peacefully without major incident. 

Last night, my little Ella woke me at

1:00 (made it back to bed at 2:00)

and was finally up for good at 6:30. 

Ear infection.  Lots of crying.  Ibuprofin didn't make a dent.

I'd just like to point out, that because I'm SELFISH JERK MOM, I was inwardly crying about my loss of sleep, and I was also crying because on Mondays, Ella and Jack are BOTH in school in the morning.  Ella goes to nursery school 3 days a week. When they're both in school, I come home and wipe tears of joy away for those two precious, priceless hours of PURE GORGEOUS SILENCE.  So, I was thinking; " couldn't get sick on a TUESDAY now could you.  Of course not!"

At 7:30 this morning, I was feeling like over-baked death, and Ella was bouncing around downstairs singing.  I could have happily strangled her.

So, off we went to the walk-in clinic, where dickhead doctor takes a look in her ear and says; "well, it doesn't look too bad, but I'll give her an antibiotic." 

I've had no sleep.  Well, I had some--you know:  that desperate, sweaty sleep that you get when you're stressed?  So I'm in no mood for this noncommittal "doesn't look too bad" business.  What the hell does that mean anyway?!?  Does she have an ear infection or doesn't she?  I already concluded she does, as she's prone to them, so off we went across the hall to the pharmacy. 

Just as I was paying for the meds, and the FREAKING SNICKERS BAR I'D CHOSEN,  Ella decided to spice things up a little.  She suddenly started going; "MMM!  MMMM!" and when I looked down I saw that her eyes were wide, her cheeks were FULL and she had a blob of barf on her lip.  Luckily, there was nothing nearby to deal with the imminent spew.  Also luckily, my brain SHUT DOWN. I frantically scrabbled up one of those paper prescription bags.  Do you think I could get the damn thing open though?  So, I held it over my hands for her to hurl onto, like a tray.

The tiny, swarthy, mousy, pharmacist said "can you at least use the waste basket?" in this groany, long-suffering voice, as Ella was yarking away.  So, I steered her over to the garbage basket, mumbling apologies to all along the way.  I even tried, with great embarrassment, to swab up some of the unswabbable mess, with the paper towels the young, cute, useless, pharamacy assistant girl offered up.

Then we beat it the hell out of there.

In the car I started laughing--you know, like you have to do when something is just so completely unfunny horrendous?  I said; "oh Ella!  I could see all your little bites of cheddar cheese in there!  MY GOD!"  Then I almost gagged, and it was then I decided that the Snickers bar would have to wait till much, much later.   

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Life On The Autism Spectrum: For God's Sake JUST EAT

Okay Parents and parental sympathizers:

Who is familiar with a child who has eating issues?  Raise your hand.  Among the few special points of interest that nag at me daily--no, constantly--EATING is one of them.

It's weird, isn't it?  We all love food.  Everything we do centres around food.  I invite my sister over for dinner so we can bond over something really tasty.  A girlfriend of mine wants to throw a makeup products party, and is using the promise of "cocktails and yummy snacks" as an enticement.  One of the pleasures of a vacation is the food; abandoning oneself to eating as much as one wants, and whatever one wants.  When we have parties, everybody brings food.  We go for groceries at least once a week.  We fight the urge to overindulge in junk food.  Food, food, food, food, food. 

But not Jack, my 7 year old son. 

He's slowly giving up all the things he's willing to eat, one by one, and he's not adding anything new to his list. 

His lunch is sitting on the table.  I've reminded him three times to come eat it.  OOp, make that FOUR now....FIVE....

Anyhow, here is what I've set out for him:

* 2 pieces of (lightly toasted) cinnamon raisin toast--NO butter 
* glass of half high protein nutritonal shake/half milk, sweetened up with a little chocolate syrup
* a tablespoon (literally) of peach yogurt, with NO lumps of fruit in it

Jack's breakfast is/was: 
*bowl of flavoured instant oatmeal
* glass of chocolate milk

Jack's morning snack is/was
* 2 pieces of (lightly toasted) cinnamon raisin toast--NO butter
* glass of chocolate milk

Jack's afternoon snack will be the same as the morning snack, if it's the weekend. If it's a weekday, it will be a container of chocolate pudding.

Jack's dinner will be:
* bowl of flavoured instant oatmeal

* 2 pieces of (lightly toasted) cinnamon raisin toast--NO butter
* glass of half high protein nutritonal shake/half milk, sweetened up with a little chocolate syrup

bedtime snack:  same as morning and afternoon snack. 

The oatmeal can only be one of the following flavours: 

* cinnamon spice

* maple and brown sugar
* cinnamon apple
* strawberry but NOT "strawberry vanilla"

He will also eat homemade muffins, plain milk chocolate, and mint chocolate. 

In the past year he has stopped eating:
* butter on his toast

* Polish sausage
* weiners
* ice cream
* french toast
* slices of apple
* Sun Chips

and very recently he will not eat peanut butter sandwiches, or  yogurt. 

The peanut butter sandwich saga went a little something like this:  he ate peanut butter and jam sandwiches at lunch for two years straight.  Then he started to get a little funny about the peanut butter.  If there was any peanut butter coming out the side of the sandwich, he would not eat it.  If there were any bread crumbs mixed in to the peanut butter, he would not eat it.  I started putting his sandwich in the fridge half an hour before lunch, so it would "firm up" the filling.

Then he started to get funny about jam.  If the jam was too thick, he would not eat it.  If the jam was too globby, he would not eat it.  If the jam came outside of the borders of the bread, he would not eat it.  Then he stopped eating jam altogether.  To think, he used to eat jam on toast. 

He becomes ABSOLUTELY furious now if I ask him if he'd like a piece of cheese.  He's not skinny, but he's not fat either.  He's a little bit chubby from eating so much damn bread.

He takes a multivitamin with ZINC at breakfast time, as well as Omega 3.  At lunch he gets a vitamin D gummy, and we boost his nutrition every now and then with high protein shakes, which I feel a little uneasy about, because they're for adults.  That's why I split it over the course of a day, or two days. 

So why isn't he coming for lunch right now?  The yogurt.  I have so much yogurt in my fridge right now, it's ridiculous.  I think that probiotics are very important.  They put good bacteria in the gut.  Good bacteria helps for better digestion of food.  Better digestion of food helps with better absorption of the nutrients therein.  One theory about kids on the Autism Spectrum, is that a lot of them suffer from "leaky gut syndrome," which basically means that some key nutrients in their food pass right through them.  But Jack has stopped eating yogurt.  So, I keep searching for a new yogurt that will taste delicious, and not the least big sour.  If anyone has any suggestions of brands, please, please share.  I bought the little probiotic drinks.  He hated it.  I wasn't really surprised because it was both too sweet and so intensely yogurty tangy, I knew he'd never like it, but I kept my big yap shut.  Now I've got another mega pack of assorted flavours, but in another brand.  We've seen more ACTIVIA come through this house than you can imagine.  So, I was delighted that this new yogurt had no lumps of fruit to pick out.  But he won't like it.  I just know it.  It's not sweet enough. 

A Little Theory I Have On Diet, And ONE HELL OF AN ADMISSION
Personally?  When I think about a lot of behavioural problems kids have, I question their diets.  I question the diets of kids who don't have behavioural problems as well.  When I was little--and this is going to floor you, perhaps--I used to eat toilet paper and towel strings.  CLEAN toilet paper, you maniacs.  And no, I wasn't eating handfuls of the stuff, but every now and then I would get a towel and yank a string out to munch on.  I can remember how delicious it seemed. 

Now, before you conclude that I am/was a total freak, first let me say I never eat towel strings or toilet paper any longer.  I don't crave them.  I don't eat them.  I can remember how appealing they seemed though.  But consider this:  how much fibre did I/any kid have in their diet back in the 1970's???  Was fibre even a consideration then for the general population?  Think about it: 

If you were like me, you started your day with your bowl of cheerios, rice krispies or some other junk cereal that had little candy marshmallows in it, or featured the word "SUGAR" right there in the name.  Fibre count?  Maybe 1 gram, if you were lucky.  I didn't like oatmeal then--lots of kids do not.  Then I had my nice, fluffy bleached white sandwich. Fibre count?  Minimal.  I didn't like the fresh vegetables nearly as much as the canned ones, so we had a lot of canned green beans.  I hated peas, and cauliflower and broccoli made me gag.  I did love salad.  Yeah, I loved a salad made with that nice, pale ICEBERG LETTUCE.  Fibre count?  Forget it.  What if, my body was desperately craving fibre?  Hmm...

And how about snow-eating?  Do you remember eating snow?  Lots and lots of it?  Do you remember how delicious you thought it tasted?  Yeah?  That's interesting...did you also know that when people are iron deficient, they often CRAVE ice chips? 

It is now 44 minutes since I made Jack's lunch.  I know he's avoiding it because the yogurt is sitting there.  I also know I can either have a fight to get him to try it, or I can use the "I'm casual, and I don't care if you eat it or not method", which means I'll say nothing about the yogurt, and he'll never, ever, ever try it.  Or, I can yell upstairs and tell him the yogurt is off the table, so he won't be afraid to come and eat, and then I'll buy some probiotic supplements and replace yet another food with a pill. 

So disheartening. 

Image from HERE

Friday, February 25, 2011

The PIT of despair

You there! 

Yes, YOU.  I see you.  You're in the PIT OF DESPAIR.  How do I know?  Oh, I've been there too.  And I feel your pain. 

You're really tired of this:

Image from HERE

And this:

Image from HERE
And this:

And you've had it UP TO HERE with this:

Image from HERE
 And this:

Image from HERE

You don't even want to think about this:

Image from HERE

You can't sleep at night, because you constantly worry about this:

Image from HERE
and this:

Image from HERE
And secretly you obsess about this, even though you have the odd "I LOVE MYSELF, JUST THE WAY I AM" moments:

Image from HERE

And you're so, so tired, but even though you just wanted to f*cking lie down and read that book with that oh-so-sexy Scottish Highlander in it, and fantasize about GREAT BIG SCOTTISH MEN WHO WEAR KILTS, AND TAKE WHAT THEY WANT WHEN THEY WANT, AND ROAM WILD AND UNTAMED, you made dinner. 

And got THIS response:

Image From HERE

You need a break. You need to get OUT OF HERE. You need to hop in your now-dented car, and drive until that thing runs out of gas. Let somebody else worry about it right?

Yeah, I hear you girlfriend. I hear you.


the licence plate is s'posed to say "BRNT OUT"  ha ha, what horrible art
 At first I thought today was a great day.  The weather is CRAPPOLA out there, but I was ecstatic because school's are open, so the kids had to SUCK IT.  Also, I have to say, I'm one of those jerk moms who makes the kids walk to school, even if it's rotten weather outside.  We live less than ten minutes away, and I need the exercise so I don't turn into KAREN WINTER FATTY (yeah, I've made this joke before), and I also still like our DYING ENVIRONMENT, and try to give a crap about my CARBON FOOTPRINT, but whatever. 

I thought it was kind of hilarious this morning, as my two kids and I were trudging head-on through the horrible, cold, relentless, unsympathetic, sideways PELTING snow, and I was jubilant that they were both going to school, AND The Man is out for the day, so I would soon return to


The kids, however, were not happy about it..

"waaa!  The snow is hurting my face!"

"waaaa!  The snow is going in my eyeball!"

"waaa!  I HATE walking in winter!" 

Jerk Mom:  "isn't it a FUN WINTER ADVENTURE out here kids???  KEEP WALKING, DON'T SLOW DOWN"

So, it was all fine and good until it was time to Pick Ella up from nursery school, and then SUPER JERK hit my car  We were stopped at the intersection, waiting for the light to change, and buddy was turning left.  Can someone explain how he managed to come around the corner and almost do a 360 so that he ended up hitting my driver's side door nearly straight-on???  And here's another weird thing--why did it have to be the unknown parent at the elementary school who gives me slightly weird vibes, and appears to be checking me out when he brings his kid to school in the morning?  Why can't it be the SUPA HOT, SLIGHTLY SURLY Dad??? 

Blech, between that and taking too much Vitamin C (I'll explain later), I am no longer happy today.  Vitamins are clearly burning an ACID HOLE straight through my bodily core, as they force their way out of my system.  I won't go into anymore detail, but let's just say this:  FEEL THE BURN!!! 

Yes, the vitamin C is yet another attempt in my great QUEST TO NOT FEEL SO FREAKING TIRED ALL THE TIME. 

OH well, IT'S FRIDAY, B*TCHES!  Time to fill up the ice cube tray, because my good friend CANADIAN CLUB can't wait to start the par-tay...which actually would involve me, my one whisky and coke, sitting at the computer unscrambling words.  Good times. 

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Walkie-Talkies: EPIC Birthday Present, or EPIC FAIL?

Jack just got walkie-talkies for his birthday.  There was approximately 2 minutes of good-natured fun, but things are rapidly going downhill

Jack:  "Hi Ella!"

Ella:  "Jack, I love you."

Jack: "I love you too, Elliott!"

Ella: "Jack, I love you."

Jack: "Ella is the ELLIOTT!"

Ella:  "Okay, JACKIETT"

Jack:  "Ha ha, ELLIOTT!"

Ella:  "Jack, I love you."


Ella:  "Jack, don't call me 'Elliott'!"

Jack:  "Okay, my SCISSOR!"

Ella:  "Jackie! Jackie! Jackiett!"

Jack:  "I hate you."

Ella:  "I don't like you either!"

So, are walkie talkies a fun idea, or just another way for Jack to torture his sister...must ponder this. 


Image from HERE

We haven't played it yet, because Jack has to go back to school soon.  Incidentally, does everyone remember how much it SUCKED to have to go to school on your own birthday???  There was a kid in my class every year in elementary school, who was actually allowed to stay home on his birthday each year.  I thought that was mind-bogglingly awesome. 

Anyhow, as for the hippos, if you're not familiar with it, it's a frantic, frenzied game of who can get the most marbles down their hippos yap before they're all gone. 



This too could be an EPIC FAIL. 

Still, Jack is IMPOSSIBLE to buy for.  His interests are completely A-TYPICAL for a 7 year old kid.  I also bought him a black and white Beatles documentary dvd.  Yeah, he likes documentaries. 

Jack likes British Invasion bands, famous violinists of bygone eras, Vincent Vangogh and he also LOVES Baby Einstein. 

He LURVS Baby Newton

Image from HERE

But guess what:  it's impossible to find Baby Newton in any store now.  They don't even make it anymore, and it appears that the Baby Einstein mania has nearly completely cooled down.  Jack watched his copy TO DEATH, and then because Ella and Jack are


it broke somehow. 

So, that one's out the window, unless I want to order a used copy online.  Which I don't.  Because he watched it TO DEATH.  Also, I'm tired of talking about the Lion in the movie.  The LION, as you see on the cover, looks super happy and fun, right? 


Jack has a fear/fascination/obsession thing with the LION.  He thinks the LION'S happy, apparently LIDLESS eyed smile looks more CRAZED MANIAC than super fun, huggable guy.  He's asked me a billion times why the LION makes THIS face--and then he makes his eyes as huge, crazed and round as possible, with a demonic open-mouthed grin.  And if it's bed time, the LION is almost too scary to talk about. 

Oh, and this is what Jack asked for for his birthday:

This is a scene from the 1939 film "They Shall Have Music."  Featured here is famed violinist Jascha Heifetz.  Jack loves him some Heifetz:

Jascha Heifetz Playing the Mendelssohn Concerto by Jack Feb 2011

(click on pic for better detail--that crazy kid was only 6 when he drew this!)

Yeah, so that's what Jack likes.  This crazy, black and white movie FROM NINETEEN THIRTY NINE FOR FREAK'S SAKE. 

Once again:  impossible to find. 

Jack likes books starring bratty, horrid boys.  Impossible to find.
He's always wanted a Baby Einstein LION puppet, like the one in the videos.  Impossible to find.
I'd love to get him some cd's of bands he'd like, like The Hollies, and The Easybeats.  Nearly Impossible to find.
How about markers??? He LOVES to draw!  He only likes to draw in black and white, and guess what--they don't sell a whole pack of black, washable markers.  So, I guess somebody could buy him a pack of black pens, but that seems kinda sucky, no?

So, when my family members ask me:  "what should I get Jack for his birthday?"  I have no clue.  And that's why he got walkie-talkies, a Beatles documentary and Hungry Hungry Hippos. 

Oh, I'd better hide that Heifetz drawing I just scanned.  Jack now thinks it's garbage, and the mere sight of it fills him with volatile artist rage, and he wants to rip it up. 

So who's the hardest person you know to buy for???

Monday, February 21, 2011

How To Kill The PMS Monster Part 4: Maybe They're Really That Annoying

Wednesday Feb 2

IMPOSSIBLE to tell if the magical PMS pills are working today.  Schools are closed for a freaking SNOW DAY.  This was exciting for about 5 minutes.  Hooray, I didn't have to fight with the kids to get ready, and brushed, and into their full wardrobe of cold weather clothes, but wanting to throttle my son all day does not equal good times.  I don't think there's an over the counter supplement called  FAMILYBGONE.  Okay, that was lame.  Whatever.  It took 3 whiskies for me not to put my head through plaster.  Y'dig?

Okay, so no rage today really, but a good steaming dose of BLAH.  Somebody cue Mick Jagger:

"you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you'll find, you get what you need." 

No wait--that song's stupid.  Chop it after the "not getting what I want" bit.

The pills have done nothing to dull my hyper-sensitive detail-noticing powers.  The Man uses the box of salt...and leaves it on the counter.  The Man opens a new pair of boy's underpants, takes one out for Jack to wear to school....and leaves the bag on Jack's bedroom floor.  Jack takes off the clothes he's worn that day...and tosses them on the floor.  And Ella?  Well, it's a constant wardrobe revision.  Obviously when it's -16 (that's about 3 degrees F, my charming American friends)  degrees outside, it makes good sense to wear that little summer tank dress.  Obviously.  Oh, there was that puddle of pee I stepped in on the bathroom floor.  Beside the toilet.  Soaked my sock.  Had to find new socks.  Would have been annoying enough to just step in a bit of water, but then there was the shiny, happy yellow puddle.

"Not me!"


The Man set his alarm clock for an early hour this morning, even though he works AT HOME, and also even though ELLA WAKES US UP FAITHFULLY EVERY DAY.  He set it just in case Ella didn't wake us up (which she always does). Did he hear the alarm though?  No.  Who fell immediately back to sleep?  The Man.  When did he get up?  A solid half hour later.  No worries everyone--I didn't kill him.

So, am I supposed to float around the house, smile and feel the spreading warmth of love from deep inside when I step in a puddle of p*ss?  Oh, silly children!  Tee hee!  Maybe it's impossible to feel serene when they're this annoying.

One thing of note:  giant, nickle-diameter zit over my right eyebrow has gone away on its own, as quietly as it appeared.  How strange.

One thing of possible note:  I feel like my nose looks smaller.  Commit me now, I'm losing it.


Damn it y'all , it's FRIDAY.  I don't know if I have a steady undercurrent of very, very mild blech, or I feel mildly blech thanks to the debilitating 20 minutes of Jack being home for lunch today. Hmm....who can say?  Jack has been fighting during lunch now.  He's angry about everything, it seems, and especially angry when it's time to go back to school.  Normally he eats his lunch, and then he's allowed to listen to some music before he goes.  This he knows.  That's all fine and good though until we say:  "Jack, it's time to go back to school now" and then this happens:

And EVERYBODY had better look out.  So, these lunches--each being a more splendid fight than the last--are fairly draining.  Actually, they suck all the goodness out of me.  I did manage to find some inner calm though, so that's still pretty good--right???


***Stay tuned for the conclusion and see if THE SUPPLEMENT DID ANYTHING to change my horrid PMS!  I'm sure you're just DYING to know. 

* Hey!  Want the whole PMS Story?  Click Any of the links below:

How To Kill The PMS MONSTER??? Part 1

How To Kill The PMS Monster? Part 2: The SUPPLEMENT

How To Kill The PMS Monster - Part 3: Hormone-o-rama

How To Kill The PMS Monster Part 4: Maybe They're Really That Annoying

How To Kill The PMS Monster Part 5: PMS Can Suck It!

Friday, February 18, 2011

Alone In the Crowd--Like Everyone Else

I have been in a major funk since returning from my vacation.  Actually, I often wonder if vacations sometimes do more harm than good.  Think about it:  you're escaping the same old drudgery you have to go through every day, and typically you're going to a place with much better scenery, possibly much better weather, and your goals are simply to relax and "let yourself go."  And then, after that brief period of high-summer revelry, you have to pack up your dirty, wrinkled clothes and go back to your REAL life. 

I had this very naive idea that just because I went away, things would change.  POOF! My son no longer drives my daughter crazy, thanks to his pestering OCD.  POOF!  The house would be tidy when I walked in and finally, finally look like that GROWN UP house I always dream of having.  POOF!  I would be invigorated and refreshed and have more energy and mental stamina to tackle said house, and constantly fighting children.  But no, I was home, and it was messy, and dirty, and there are still piles of where-the-hell-do-I-put-this-stuff everywhere.  My son was still my same little Jack, and he still flips out and flies into absolute panic over things that you and I find insignificant.  And oh yeah, my Mom is still dead.  Yeah, she's gone forever, and some guy named "Bev" is in our house right now instead, watching the place for my Dad; making sure the furnace runs smoothly, and the pipes don't freeze, etc. 

I still have to drag myself out of bed every day even though I feel exhausted, and I still have to make those million trips to and from the school.  I wanted to go for my power walk the past couple of mornings, but it's your typical Canadian brief thaw, and that means there are lake-sized puddles everywhere, and the sidewalks are covered with bumpy, dangerous ice.  No sign of flowers.  No sign of any green grass.  Your kids still fight you about everything. 

So, I was lying in bed last night awake, thinking about all of this.  I was thinking about how life is just plain hard.  How it's a struggle, and how overflowing with daily worry and heartache it is. 

It's easy to fall into the pit of despair.  It's easy to wallow.  It's easy to give up. It's very easy to think "why me?  Why is MY life so hard?" 

Image from HERE
And then, as I lay there thinking, I had a thought that was ironically comforting.  What spurred it on was a post I'd just read by Maria at Mission: Fertile Soul.  Maria's blog makes me ponder very often.  She's a poignant, intelligent writer. She also struggles with infertility.  One of her latest posts (you can read her post HERE)  was a glimpse into the world of IVF treatments through her own comics.  There was one comic that struck me:  as she walks down the street, she sees another "cute pregnant woman," and thinks "oh, great."  That really grabbed me.  It's that quintessential "alone in the crowd" feeling we all suffer from, from time to time. 

Do you ever go out in public and feel like you're the only one who has a certain problem, that nobody else has or can understand?  I certainly do.  You've probably all heard me bitch about my stomach.  My pregnancy with my daughter wrecked me.  My stomach muscles, already weakened from being cut during a gallbladder-ectomy (did I just invent a word???), were stretched WAY beyond the point of no return.  My abdominal muscles separated, and now, unless I really suck it in, the upper portion of my stomach sticks out, and I look pregnant.  I have had a few people think I was expecting. I hate it.  It's on my mind every minute of every day.  I look at other women and I envy their stomachs.  Even if other women are overweight, I envy their stomachs, because they simply look like they're heavy--not perpetually pregnant.  When I walk to the school to pick my son up, I always feel very self conscious, and then I fall into that "alone in the crowd" feeling:  nobody else has a weird, sticking out stomach like mine.  I'm the only one here who looks like this. 

I used to feel this way about my Mom too, like I was the only one in that crowd who didn't have a mother any longer to love, to complain about, to roll my eyes about, to go shopping with, to call when I needed to vent, or for advice. 

So, what I realised is that yes, at times I am alone in the crowd--just like everyone else.  Everyone has some sadness, or heartache, or hardship or massive insecurity in their life. 

I don't know--it's comforting. 

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Post Vacation Blues

Well, I'm back. 


Okay, okay, I'm not a total baby:  I realise that REAL LIFE does not involve floating around leisurely in a heated salt water pool like a big, fat starfish, with palm trees waving gently overhead, and when swimming is finished you get yourself a big old rum and coke...or four...  And I know that the average person's view is not a calm ocean, lapping endlessly onto soft, soft, cool white sand.  I also know that in FREAKING FEBRUARY, it's not common around these here parts to see the sun very often, and 95% of everyone here is suffering MASSIVE VITAMIN D DEPRIVATION

Yes, and it's true, we can't sleep in every day till 8:30 or 9, then get up, have breakfast on a completely screened in balcony that looks out over the aforementioned peaceful ocean, and drink our coffee with a contented heart thrumming in a nice, easy, TOTALLY STRESS FREE RHYTHM.  True; after breakfast I never ever get dressed in my BATHING SUIT, and go sit by the pool with a book, and just let that sun sink into the bones. 

Of course in THE REAL WORLD, I will have to wait at least 4 more months--3 if I'm lucky, to wear my SUPA SEXAY sandals and a TOE RING, and go out for a really fun dinner, where you sit outside, and even if it's a cool evening, it's okay, because there are overhead heaters, and that table behind you has a fire going in the middle of it, and as you sip your habenero lime Corona, some balding dude is playing "yellow bird" on the steel drums.  And oh how you laugh!  You laugh and laugh, because you haven't got A FREAKING CARE IN THE WORLD.  Oh, and the dinner you're eating?  Well, it has NOTHING to do with casseroles, or heating up chicken nuggets, or slapping peanut butter on bread.'s a masterful combination of a boneless buttermilk fried chicken breast, set on top of the best mashed potatoes ever, surrounded by fire roasted corn salsa.  AND, DAMN--HALF THE FUN IS THAT YOU DIDN'T COOK IT YOURSELF, and the other half is that it's the most exciting restaurant meal you've had in a long time! 

But yeah, I'm a rational adult.  I know that one can't go out for lovely, gorgeous meals all the time. 

Sure, I realise that it's February, so even though it was a treat to go barefoot again, and idle along a beach hunting for little conch shells, and throwing them back in the ocean if they still have little guys living in them, and as they sail back to the sea, you happily call; "LIVE ANOTHER DAY, LITTLE BUDDY!" 

Wait...what was I trying to say?  Oh yeah, that kind of lifestyle is a TREAT, and not the norm, so I should just feel lucky that I got to have it for 5 1/2 fabulous days. 


I should feel lucky.

And rested.

And restored.


WELL F$CK THAT!!!!  Okay people, I finally got home at around 1:15 AM Tuesday, and I felt all happy to be home.  Yay, I'm back in Canada!  Oh hooray!  It's cold the way winter is SUPPOSED TO BE.  Oh goody, I'll be able to drink my own blend of coffee again.  Oh joy--my sweet little chillin's!  OOo, look at how appealing The Man is!  Kitties?  Kitties!!!!  Oh you little furry rats, come give me a hug!  Aw, look at that--the pantry is littered with Jack's rejected drawings!  Oh, lovely, familiar mess!  Chuckle, chuckle, their bedroom floors are covered with clothes...oh the little dickens! 

The sun is shining!  It's a beautiful (Canadian Winter, ie; not beautiful) day!  The filthy snow is starting to melt, so it's slushy and puddle-y everywhere!  Oh, I can't wait to get back into my routine!  I can't believe it--I'M JUST SO HAPPY!  I FEEL SO REVITALIZED, AND I SMELL FREAKING AWESOME FROM THIS NEW PERFUME I BOUGHT!  EVERYTHING * IS * GREAT!!!!

That lasted till 5:00 pm, Tuesday. 

That lovely, stress-free, restored feeling lasted for 17 hours, but I slept for 7 of them, so that equals 10 hours of feeling great thanks to my little vacation.  Then, it was me frantically making that nice, roast chicken dinner with lots of veggies for my family, and the kids freaking out that dinner wasn't ready yet, and then Ella and Jack trying to throttle one another, and I couldn't go for a power walk this morning, because all that slush froze into treacherous ice, and well, you get the picture.

Oh, but I'd better go.  Everybody was kind of enough to leave their laundry for me!  Isn't that SUPER?  Which one of y'all out there would be happy to return home to a literally overflowing laundry basket?  Anyone?  Anyone? 

Yeah, that's what I thought. 

Friday, February 11, 2011

Adventures in Paradise

Typing on Dad's laptop while in Florida....

Okay, should anyone's vacation start at 2:20 in the morning?!?  That, my friends is the time that the airbus came to pick me up to take me to the Buffalo airport.  So, at 1:30, I got tired of laying in bed with a racing heart, and decided to stop doing the old jitter jive and just get up for crying out loud.  I dragged my pasty, shivering self out of bed and into the dark, cold house.  Does anyone feel remotely good at that hour if they're used to being asleep, and if they can't really take late nights any longer?!?  Does a chicken sandwich actually sound like a good idea at that hour?  It did at dinner time, but it turned into one great big sawdust sandwich at 2 of the A.M.

Off into the cold we went.  And oh, was it cold.  The next stop was to pick up my sister, who matched me in exhausted pastiness, and my nieces.  Then it was off to pick up another lady, and then onward to the airport.  The other lady was quite chatty, and willing to share many details:

new travelling buddy:  "I hit the snooze alarm twice this morning."
me:  "you could sleep?!?!?"
new travelling buddy: "Yeah, I pounded a bunch of beers so I could sleep before I went to bed."

a little later...

new travelling buddy:  "I told all my friends; 'I'm comin' back black.'"
me (a tad perplexed): "oh, yes?"
new travelling buddy:  "yeah, I've got this tan accellerator.  It makes ya go soooooo dark!  You can actually feel it tingling on your skin."

when I told this to my sister she said;
"what?  Tingling with CANCER???"

People.  So funny. 

I would like to point out that when we got to the airport, the strap of my purse IMMEDIATELY popped off, and bits that held it together went clattering across the floor.  That sucked. 

The flight to Florida seemed fairly long and tedious, and the little bag of cookies I chose were fairly gross.  Butter crunchers.  Yech. 

I would also like to point out that as soon as we got to Florida, we used the washroom at the airport (all that Dunken' Donuts coffee makes one need to pee) and my PERIOD showed up.  What a kick in the ass:  hey, you're in Florida now, so let the fun begin! 

That really sucked. 

The view from the condo is absolutely stunning:  a large balcony looking out to the ocean.  Give me a break--who lives like this???  There is bouganvillea growing at the entranceway of the condo, and palm trees everywhere.  Beautiful.

We went for a swim in the salt water pool first.  Since it was about 2:00, or greater than 12 hours since I'd had a decent amount of sleep, I was having a very hard time tamping down the overwhelming need to weep, thanks to my Mom not being here to see all this tropical beauty.  This too shall pass.


Fort Myers has a smell.  I am cursed with ridiculously strong sense of smell, and I can smell this smell everywhere, and nobody else can really detect it.  It's kind of a mixture of public toilet water and weird, processed bread, and some mysterious spice.  The condo reeks of it.  The whole area reeks of it.  The pina coladas my sis and I had at the bar tonight had whiffs of it.  When we went to the grocery store, the bread aisle nearly knocked me over.  Damn you, nose!!!!!!! 

Actually, this reminds me of the first time I went to Mexico, and became acquainted with that most heinous of herbs:  CILANTRO.  The first night in the restaurant they served traditional Mexican food and it was filled with cilantro.  I was horrified.  I could smell it everywhere:  on the people, coming out of their houses when they opened the door...It took some getting used to.  Seriously, if you're a freak like I am, these little stupid things become much bigger. 

Anyway--speaking of the grocery store, it is endlessly fascinating the differences there are between Canada and the U.S.  Y'all have a product called "Goober" or something like that, made by Smuckers.  It's a mixture of peanut butter and jam in one jar.  Fine, but does anyone want a goober sandwich?  I think not. 

I can hear the ocean as I type.  Everyone else is in bed.  My sister is trying to sleep on the sh*tty pull out couch.  Do they always, always suck?  I tried lying on it after we put the sheets on, and it was so horrid I laughed till tears squirted out. 

Back at home there is a cold weather alert.  Apparently it's really brutal (what else is new).  I was floating on my back, looking up at palm trees.  Life is weird.  I miss my Mom, The Man, and the kids.  Cocktails made things better for a while, but now crushing fatigue is winning. 

Last bit of info of the day:  the condo is gungy and I've discovered I'm a bit of a total princess, because the town is slightly skidly, and it makes me nervous, and I don't like the dirt and grime in the condo, and I can't rough it enough to sleep on the pull out couch.  Sigh.  I am what I am, and that's all that I am.

Question:  would I go on a vacation with ME?  Hmm...must ponder this...okay, maybe I would.  Aside from my need for things to be nice and clean, and not worry overly about random locals wanting to mug me (it's a girl thing!  I swear!), I tidy up after myself and don't take up too much space.  I do, however, take way too much bathroom time to try to convert myself from HIDEOUS to passable. 


Real conversations heard in vacationville:

Me (eating a super fun American candy bar!!):  "Dad, you wanna bite of my 'Whatchamacallit'?"
Dad: "no thanks honey, I've got this something or other."

Ha ha!  No?  Come on, doesn't everyone remember those stupid "Whatchamacallit" commercials?  I just lived a real one.  My dad was totally oblivious.  Okay, I thought it was funny, but then I've been sleeping on a bed that feels like its balanced on a two-by-four:  roll to far to the right or left, and all will be lost! 

Smells continued..

okay, last night my sis and bro in law came back from a walk to 7 Eleven and it was raining out a bit when they went.  Well, they REEKED of that smell that I've been detecting everywhere.  REEKED OF IT, I TELLS YA!  Finally, they could kinda sorta smell it too.  What the eff?  Am I a total freak???

Right now I have my hair loaded with anti-humidity gel.  I seem to be the only one in our group walking around looking like a tard with a bad perm.  OH dad has some pretty funky hair too.  Thanks for the genes there dad. 

It is Friday.  It's raining, and chilly enough to require a little jacket.  Boo!!!  We are going to some place called the Imaginarium today.  I will not be the one sticking my hands into any interactive water tanks to touch any ocean creatures.  Ha ha..I'm only fun when it's cocktail hour!  By the way...I rigged up the best refridgerator pina colada yesterday, and I also made a killer quickie spaghetti dinner.  Yeah, I am awesome.  Oh...erm...yeah...I'm on vacation and I'm cooking for everyone.  FREAK.  Well, you can take the girl away from drudgery, but you can't take the drudgery from the girl. 

My sis has been taking pictures of this little vacay, so I can't wait to see just how hideous I am!  Hooray! 

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Bye Bye Wimmens and Mens!

pic from HERE

Sorry I can't take your call right now, but I'm off to have my first solo vacation, in well, ever.    So just leave a message after the "beep".


Monday, February 7, 2011

Vacation: turning Sasquatch into Sexy Beach Ball Woman

Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee....

Okay, first of all:  who can get the above photo joke in two minutes or less?  If, however, you're not a degenerate as I am, click HERE.  No seriously--if you can take some very un-ladylike/un-gentlemanly humour, click on the link.  I laughed out loud.  Made my whole Monday morning better.  Oh don't look at me like that.  I can't always be the deep-thinking, environmentally-conscious, cynical jerk that I am. 

I'm leaving for Florida this week!!!  SANS CHILDREN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hoo...I just got light-headed there for a second!  Okay, no jokes about the little people.  I'll miss them.  I'll probably even be crying several times during my 6 DAY VACAY. The Man's not going either--just my sister, her man, her kids and I. 

There is a lot to do to get ready for a vacation, and even moreso for a vacation in WINTER.  Let's just say, we tend to let ourselves go a little.  We relax our standards.  We take a solid week off from shaving the legs--at least! We allow ourselves to turn into prickly, pasty bags of dough.  Why, I can hardly wait until I step on that beach, and the sun bounces off my white, white, white, painfully white, skin; whereby if someone looks at my legs directly, they'll go blind. 


Several years ago, before I had the kids, when I was merely chubby, I would wax my legs before going on vacation.  This would be wonderful:  I wouldn't have to shave the entire week.  And oh, the dreamy bikini zone!  If I waxed my burns off, that area would be rash-free and hassle free the entire vacation. 

we all want to look like THIS

and not THIS. (image from HERE)

Yeah, I used to do all that tedious hair removal. 

But, I got lazy. 
Lazy, and afraid of the pain.  If you've ever waxed anything, you'll know that it hurts so much, you will not believe that the area you just ripped the strip off is not bleeding.  How about that area right around the ankle bone?  How about the front of the leg, near the bottom, where the leg meets the foot?  If only they sold a local anesthetic that we could take before waxing.  Brutal. 

But, we've done it all:

* shaving

ever knick that funny spot just over your ankle, and then watched the blood roll down for a nearly endless amount of time? 
-Ever have the razer do a roll-over in your slippery, soapy hand, and chisel a chunk out of your leg along the way?

- ever shave your legs and then immediately head off to the highschool dance, work up a sweat, and feel like your legs had been lit on fire?
- ever shave way past the point when you should have thrown that razor away, because you KEEP ON FORGETTING TO BUY SOME MORE?

* chemical hair removers

"Up to 5 days" my @$$...

How disgusting is this stuff????  Plus, what the hell is it doing to our skin?  Is it actually a good idea to KILL the hair on our legs?!?  Do we really want it to penetrate "below the surface?!?"

a) the stuff reeks like that bad perm everybody's mom used to get when you were a kid
b) it takes ten minutes to wash off hands
c) they never show on the commercial what you do with the greasy ball of hair filled gunge that you've just scraped off your leg
d) there's something a little unsettling about that weak, dead, wavy leg hair that you simply have to WIPE off
e) the hair is back by the next day

* disposable wax strips
My personal best choice...if there is a best choice.  They work okay.  Hurts like a MOFO, but come on, how could it not?  It kills me when they show these hair waxing commercials and the girl pulls the strip off her leg, and continues to smile the whole time. 

*hot wax
The most effective.  However, it's tricky.  You have to heat the wax up to just the right temperature (scalding hot wax on skin = BAD).  You have to spread it just thick enough, and you have to work quickly to rip that stuff off before it cools too much and sets on your skin.  If you rip it off at the wrong angle, instead of hairless gorgeousness, you get a bruised, broken blood vessel nightmare

Here's a small story about hot wax.  Years ago, I tried for the first and only time to wax my pits.  I spread the hot wax on, waited a moment, and tried to rip.  Well, it's tricky to get the right angle when it's your own armpit, and only a corner of the wax came up and away.  It hurt, there is no word to describe the hurt.  While I blacked out from the pain for a moment, the wax cooled completely until it was the texture of hard candy.  On my armpit.  I had to pick off the hard pieces of wax, which were welded onto the hair.  Oh, the tears.  Not ONE SINGLE HAIR CAME OUT. 

I am not daunted!  Today is the day I stick that disposable strip on my pit!  Yeah!  I'll let you know how it goes....

6:10 PM
Okay, I'm finished with the whole making dinner business, so it looks like I have some free time to rip hair off my body.  I'm totally losing my nerve about the armpit thing.  I just said that I should make The Man rip the strip off.  He shrugged and said; "sure," which is nice, but I can't really let him see the state of my underarm.  Ooo goody--the phone's for me.  Look's like the pain party has been postponed for now.

6:40 PM

7:00 PM
Okay, that was enough wax strip fun.  I put the first strip on my armpit, ripped it quickly off and OH THE BURNING SEARING PAIN.  Then I looked on the strip and saw TWO HAIRS.  Yeah, I'm not kidding.  However, after a while I managed to get a fair amount of the hair off, but I wouldn't say that the disposable strips worked "great."  I think if I was going to suffer the pain again, I'd go get my pits waxed professionally.  They feel like someone's just smacked them for an hour.  Hm...they kinda look it too. 

What was really fun during my hair removal session was that first Ella had to come in just to check out what I was doing, and then Jack banged on the door to pee.  Oh, to have another bathroom...  When I was putting Ella to bed she said she wanted to see the results of my underarm labour.  I showed her.  She felt the remaining fuzz and said;

"EEEEW...Mom, you gotta shave those hairs off." 

Three year olds know what they're talking about. 

Friday, February 4, 2011

Are We Ever Satisfied?

A Small, Silly Story

When we were little girls, we loved the idea of marriage.  If we were lucky enough to have a white wedding dress for Barbie, she got married at least once a week to Ken.  If we didn't have a Barbie wedding dress, we coveted the ones our friends had.  We didn't really know what marriage was, but in Barbie's world it was white, and satin, and beautiful, and flowers--like one big valentine event. 

When we gave up our dolls, we became obsessed with finding someone special, to be special to someone, to have a soul mate.  We wanted to hurry up and grow up, because being a kid was not good enough.  We wanted to grow up because then we would get married and have a family. 

When we finally "grew up" we needed to find our soul mate so we could get married.  We had to follow the path.  We all know what the path is, because it's what everybody tells us it is.  Our parents told us what our path should be.  Our guidance counsellors tried to set us on our path.  All of the movies and TV shows we watched told us what we should be doing. 

So, Group A found someone(s) to get married to.  Aren't they lucky.

Group B didn't find someone.  Some of them decided they weren't going to be tied down just yet.  They were going to still have fun. Others of them tried.  They tried and tried, but still felt that all the people they tried to take down their life paths were not quite right.  They figured the other people had it all.  They envied Group A

Group A did just what they were supposed to:  they had just the right amount of school, just the right type of spouse and just the right amount of children.  But all they could see was that Group B looked like they were having more fun.  They had less stress, and they weren't stuck cleaning up after kids all day, and they could go anywhere they wanted at anytime, and not be accountable to anyone.  They envied Group B

And then there was Group C. Group C are those who can not have babies. They try and try, but nothing works.  They feel their lives are incomplete, because since the time they were babies themselves, a deep biological mechanism urged them to grow and multiply.  They saw others complain and make jokes about their families.  This hurt, because they would give anything to have what Group A has.

Group D are the unfortunates.  They get diseases and die too young.  They get hit by busses, cars, trains.  Their planes crash.  Their boats sink.  They become addicted to drugs.  They go to jail.  They get stuck in bad, bad situations.  They are here to remind the other groups, if only for a minute or two, to be satisfied.  And it almost works...

until the sun comes up again.

To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else. ~Emily Dickinson

I think I've discovered the secret of life - you just hang around until you get used to it. ~Charles Schulz

Life is a cement trampoline. ~Howard Nordberg

He who has a why to live can bear almost any how. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be. ~Grandma Moses

Don't think of retiring from the world until the world will be sorry that you retire. I hate a fellow whom pride or cowardice or laziness drive into a corner, and who does nothing when he is there but sit and growl. Let him come out as I do, and bark. ~Samuel Johnson

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Freaking Snow, and other useless thoughts

here's me


oh hi there sun--haven't seen YOU in a while

Snow, snow, SNOW!!!  That's all we talk about at this time of year!  It's all we can THINK ABOUT!!!  AND DAMN IT, I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE OF IT!!!!

Pause for breath...

Yesterday was a snow day, and now my nerves are once again SHOT.  Yes, I like the part where I didn't have to race around like an idiot, and have a major fight with the kids to get into their snow gear, but all day was


I loved snow when I was a kid.  It was so much fun.  I loved making snow angels.  I'd eat litres and litres of the stuff (quarts and quarts???).  I built snow people and dressed them up with extra hats and scarves.  We had a big back yard and if conditions were just right, sometimes we'd get a bit of a rink out there.  So, I'd put on my pinchy white girl skates--the kind that are USELESS against the cold--and slip across the snow till I made it to the ice.  Sometimes I'd wear that hand me down one piece snow suit that was my brother's, and waddle out there all by myself for good afternoon fun.  I'd put on my itchy egg-head hat (picture a flesh-coloured hat/neck cowl hat with a hole in the front for a face), stuff my lower half in a garbage bag and slide down anything that was even remotely a hill. 

Everybody wore their snow pants to school, and everybody sat in class with their hair floating above their head from static electricity.  Then at recess, we put those same, crappy, knitted, sopping wet mittens back on again, and played some more.  I remember in grade one, a boy peed his pants and had to wear his snow pants for the rest of the day, since he didn't have a spare set of pants.  He's on my facebook list now.  I wonder if he'd like to know that I'll remember that story forever.  If I've known you for any length of time, I will retain at least one, weird anecdote about you, and you will sometimes slowly back away from me, because it's creepy that I know these things. 

When I was 6, and in grade 1, I used to walk home with my brother, who was in grade 6 at the time.  It was a fairly decent walk home, and even though I was only in little, you better believe I walked to and from school every day, and we also walked home for lunch.  In kindergarten I used to walk alone most of the time!  It was the 1970's, and EVERYBODY walked.  Even during the blizzard of '77, after they cancelled school that day--we walked.  Mom or Dad were NOT waiting with the car.  Sorry. 

So, that winter they were digging out a site beside the field I walked through every day; building an old folk's home (or "retirement residence" as they're now called).  In the field where I walked, there was a great big dirt hill.  That in itself was pure awesomeness, and even more so when it was covered with snow. 

Most of the kids would spend some time every day climbing and sliding on that hill.  One day, while walking home with my brother, I wanted to play on that hill.  He didn't want to.  I begged and begged to stop and play together for a bit.  He caved in, and we climbed that hill.  As I was walking over a section, I suddenly sunk in the snow up to my armpits.  And freaked.

"Get Mom! Get Mom!  PLEEEASE GO GET MOM!"
-"NO!" He said.

He made me stop panicking, and he lay down on the snow, and carefully rolled across to me, pulled me out, and we both rolled back together. 

Aw, now I'm all verklempt.

However,  a question has suddenly come to mind:  why are children compelled to lick fence posts in WINTER more than in summer???  I can still remember my little class friend sticking her tongue on that pole.  Of course it got stuck, and when she ripped off her tongue, that top layer of...well...tongue...was still stuck on the pole.  I can remember her whole tongue looking like it was covered with blood.  She was screaming and crying, and we were running most of the way home, with her letting her tongue wag out.  At the intersection, the only thing the crossing guard had to offer us was one of those scratchy brown paper towels--the kind they have in the washrooms at schools.  I remember thinking that was weird even then;  why would someone have THOSE paper towels????

We crossed the street and kept running--her with her bleeding, lolling tongue, crying and wimpering.  When we got to the point where it was getting close enough to our houses, and I was getting worn out, I told her dramatically;

"Go, L.!  Just keep going!  Don't stop!" 
Ha ha ha...I wonder if she remembers that. 

I never stuck my tongue on a fence post.  My sister did though. 

A girl I was friends with in grade 2 (who happened to be teensy bit of a bully), sucked me in to go down an icy hill on our stomachs once after school.  As soon as I got in position, she hopped on my back and rode me down the hill like a human toboggan, laughing wickedly the whole way.  That wasn't too cool.  That hill was bumpy and hard!  It didn't feel too good on the privates.  I remember getting to the bottom, standing up and groaning;

" DINK!" 

This only made her laugh harder.  Poor naive karen. 

They don't sell those "flying saucer" thingies anymore.  Remember those little death traps??? Oh gee, I wonder why?  Is it actually not a good idea to go hurtling down a hill, whirling like crazy, with ZERO control over where you'll end up or how you'll stop? 

I'm a wimp now anyway.  I find crazy carpets terrifying. 

Ah the days of senseless youth!  What are your fun memories of winter?

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

How To Kill The PMS Monster - Part 3: Hormone-o-rama

Saturday January 29

There's that familiar feeling again:  that crawly sensation of feeling wrong in my own skin.  I feel anxious like something unpleasant is JUST about to happen, and edgy--really edgy.  It's like my nerves are strung taut like guitar strings and I'm a fuse beside a flame, and any second I could light.  I could snap.

The sound of my son glugging his milk, the cat endlessly returning for some edible handouts, the toys that came out from under the couch with the sweep of the broom. It all makes me want to SNAP.  Lose it.  Start screaming.  Grab someone and shake them until my arms are tired.

Oh, and there's that self loathing.  I'm ugly, I'm sagging.  My skin is breaking out and I feel despair as I dab the cover stick here there and everywhere on my face.

I want to put my face in my hands and cry.

And so it is PMS time--2 full weeks before my period. 

Supplement time...
Following directions on this little bottle here, I have decided to take 2 capsules a day...forever???  Every day I will take 2 capsules. It says I can take 4 or as directed by a physician...but the 2 is for general hormone balancing, so I'll start there. 

Ich...even though the pills are only on my tongue for like, a SECOND, there is a decidedly unpleasant aftertaste, which kind of makes me think of what it would be like to lick an a$$.  Sorry, this is of course, purely scientific. 

Within a couple of hours, I am either in placebo heaven, or I'm just feeling the glow of the coffee in my system as I watch New Scandinavian Cooking on PBS.  Oh Andreas--you quirky nut--you're so charming.  Either way, I don't feel that dull, throbbing grouchiness that's usually simmering right below the surface. 


I feel dreamily happy right now.  I just finished eating one of those McYummy sausage & egg muffin thingies and now I'm drinking some McStrong coffee.  The Man and I had breakfast together!!! ALONE!!!!!  The kids departed yesterday for a sleepover at their benevolent grandparents. 

I slept, nearly STRAIGHT THROUGH, till 8:00 AM!  I woke once when it was dark, thanks to inner progamming.  It was probably around 6:00 AM, or right about the time Ella (why don't 3 year olds value sleep???) would be getting up.  The house was so quiet I could actually hear the clock ticking.  The FREAKING SUN IS SHINING (haven't seen the sun since last week).  I didn't wake up to sounds of fighting or any noise.  Thus, that unpleasant sensation wasn't here today:

1) wake up too early to sound of daughter clattering/clunking/smashing around her room

2) heart pounds
3) hands go tingly and numb

I told you my family is KILLING ME.

So, today I will take the PMS pills at lunch and see how I feel.


Extremely difficult to gauge how I feel due to euphoric zen feeling of children still being away, the house being completely empty (The Man went alone to get them, bless his little heart), and the high that comes from blowing some $$ during an impromptu shopping trip.  Also, am sick of self-analysing myself to death, so I will wait till the children are back, and I resume my roll of OVERBURDENED HOUSE FRAU.


There is absolutely NO Vitality in my life.  I feel about as tired, cold, pale and bloated as a human can feel.

However, there are a few hypotheses for this:

1) I have full-body cancer

2) congestive heart failure
3) the pills are actually poisoning me (remote, but sounds dramatically interesting)
4) the kids have a day off school today
5) I couldn't fall asleep last night till after midnight (probably most likely)
6) the pills are actually transmuting anger into sadness!  A chemical BREAKTHROUGH!
7) It's JANUARY IN CANADA.  Nuff said. 

So...crushing fatigue, but no rage................good?!?

6:45 PM
Two interesting things of note:

1) I seem to be forming a goose-egg sized zit over my right eyebrow
2) I felt loving feelings all day toward my children and The Man.


I also put on all my winter gear and forced myself, as well as the kids, into the back yard for a while, and poof, I didn't feel tired anymore.  Stupid winter.


Yesterday I was a LOVELY human being.  In fact, I was everything I ever wanted to be in a human. 

I was kind, patient, pleasant and calm.  The proof (if I can call it that at this point...there is still plenty of time after all), was that Jack was in a good mood all day.  My son is EXTREMELY SENSITIVE TO MY MOODS.  When I PMS, he PMS-es too! 

Also, I'm not debilitated by fatigue today, so who knows how much of that is psychosomatic anyway???

Actually...I feel.........happy.  What a strange, and alien sensation!  Hm...what if I'm no longer a miserable repulsive grouch 50% of the time.  Does that mean I'll be losing 50% of my identity???  What happens when Dr. Jekyl loses Mr. Hyde???  Is he BORING then??? 

One more point of note:  I am still craving an abundance of food and sweets like a mofo.  Apparently one can't have everything. 

Time to stop having blog fun, and go make some dinner.  And I don't even feel grouchy or resentful about it!  Hooray! 

* Hey!  Want the whole PMS Story?  Click Any of the links below:

How To Kill The PMS MONSTER??? Part 1

How To Kill The PMS Monster? Part 2: The SUPPLEMENT

How To Kill The PMS Monster - Part 3: Hormone-o-rama

How To Kill The PMS Monster Part 4: Maybe They're Really That Annoying

How To Kill The PMS Monster Part 5: PMS Can Suck It!


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