There Will Be No Party! False Alarm

I regret to inform you that the party you were all invited to as been canceled. And not even until further notice either. It's just been canceled. Now, for those of you are feeling indignat that you didn't get your invitation, it's probably because you have a cheery disposition. I was having a pity party, and there is no place for optimism there.

It's a shame too. I had found the most morose decorations. I had also purchased quite a few humidifiers so it would feel like it was raining, which seems like a nice touch. Besides which, it would make it that much more pitiful to open soggy gifts that are also empty, or better yet, filled with IOU's. And pitiful is what I was striving for, after all. The cake was to be undercooked, with salt added instead of sugar, and the rest of the eats- laced with salmonilla.

It would have been such a good pity party too. But then I went and did the dumbest thing EVER. I included my mom is my plans, and I'll tell you...there's never been another person alive who's better at hearing you feel sorry for yourself, and then saying something so horrendously sympathetic about someone else in worse straights, and making you feel very very silly. That's right, after listening to me sniffle and whine for a few minutes, she said something to the effect of "It's a good thing you don't live in Japan!"

Yep. Conversation stopper right there. Not much you can say to that is there?

So from the very bottom of my heart, thanks mom. Thankyou for putting things in perspective for me, and putting an end to my fantastically selfish pity party. No, my life is not what I want it to be. I do, however, have a home with four walls and a roof. Hot water coming out of my taps, and a working toilette. There is food in my fridge, clean clothes on my back. I have a phone to call someone, and a car to get where I need to be. My children are safe, and healthy, and happy. I know where all the people I love are, and that they are safe, happy, healthy and at least as well provided as I. Heat comes out of my vents when it is cold, and lights come on when it is dark. The air I breathe is safe, as is the food I eat. I do not live in fear for my life, or for the lives of my family. I have a place to go when I am sick, where I will be cared for. I have a place to buy medicine when I need it. The water I drink is clean and fresh.
Not only do I have everything I need to survive, but I have what I need to live. Happily too, if I could get out of my own way. I have a computer, to learn on and to communicate and reach out to anyone and anywhere. I have books to read, a television to watch, movies and music to entertain myself with. There are board games in the basement, and decks of cards on top of the fridge. My house is usually filled with the sound of laughing children, and tapping dressup shoes. There are happy little make up smudges at roughly a 6 year olds level. Toys are scattered about in every room in the house. My back yard is (or will be when it's warmer) green and lush with grass and flowers. It is large too, I have a lot of room to enjoy my children.

I have so many blessings, so much to be happy for. So life doesn't look like I thought it would today...but mom is right. It looks a hell of a lot better than a lot of other peoples lives. There are many people who would love to have just ONE of my many blessings. It's a sad thing, when it takes a woman who's been through so much and who has so much right to be angry and pitiful to tell me not to feel sorry for myself.

So, longs story short. the party is off. I'm celebrating instead, with a quiet thanks for all that I've been given.

insomnia is no match for a good imagination

In periods of stress and anxiety, I always get insomnia. It's enough to drive me nuts, simply because facing anxiety and stress alone are difficult let alone doing it while exhausted. What you might struggle to deal with today, I can pretty much assure you that if you stay up half the night, today will feel like wonderland compared to tomorrow. Sleep is essential for health- mind, body and soul.

When you've spent nights awake till two and then up at six, the darkness seems deeper and darker and reaches too far to see the edge of. Loneliness is sharper, what you are afraid will happen seems so much more likely. When it's two am, and everyone is asleep and the house and everything around you is silent, isolation is at it's peak. Solutions to problems are tucked away somewhere, out of sight and hidden. Mentally, you spin around and around and around, lighting for a moment on a thought and then skipping away again when it stings. When you're that tired, and that stressed, everything stings. Happy thoughts belong to the day, not to the people sitting alone in the dark.

On these nights, I try to banish the fear, or sadness or stress with happy thoughts. Something so happy, so beautiful that the darkness can't break in. Since I was very young, I've gone to the same mental place when even the relief of sleep is hard to hold on to. My little personal cure for insomnia.

I curl up in bed and close my eyes and I imagine something I will never ever have, but something that is so perfect, the image is enough.

I imagine my mother running in the sun catching butterflies with my daughter. I can see the expression on her face as they jump through the sprinkler, flashing in and out of the little rainbows. I imagine us, mom and the girls and I, swinging on the swings feet pointed to the sun. I imagine us jumping in puddles in the rain and looking for worms and other icky's. I see us all sitting on a log by the creek eating ice cream. Walking down the trails in the snow, sliding down hills with rosey cheeks. In my imagination, she does not limp or hurt. We swim in the summer, and slide in the winter. We rake leaves and jump in the piles in the fall, we go on hikes and look for all the baby snapping turtles so faith can be like Diego and help them find their way to their mothers in the water. We skip and run and laugh and play, and she's always laughing and smiling.

Even though I know I will never have these things, imagining what it would be like if I COULD...it is enough to make me happy and relaxed enough to sleep. Truth be told, I do not do this only when I can't sleep. Every night I am not sleeping before I've touched my pillow, I spend a little bit of time in that other world where my mom gets to be the person she would have been.

To you it sounds morbid maybe, but to me...it's perfect.

Every day starts out perfect

I think that every day starts out perfectly...and remember, just because you're eyes aren't open yet doesn't mean the day hasn't started. Before the sun comes up and eyes open, nothing bad has happened. No mistakes have been made. You haven't accidentally kicked the cat off the balcony, you haven't burned your scalp with the curling iron, you have not realized yet that your hot water tank has been leaking alllllllllll night. You didn't run over a dog on the way to work. The junkie has yet to go and get his fix. A parent hasn't crossed a line they can never come back from.
If you took the time, you would see the perfect beauty of a fresh new day. Dew drops on a spiders web, frost patterns on the window, bird song in the early morning. A pink sky, the smell of coffee floating up the stairs. The perfect arms and legs and bony joints awkwardly sticking out of your childrens blankets. The quiet warmth of the early sun, or the sound of rain on the roof. The way a fresh blanket of snow makes everything so much quieter.

In the middle of the day, sometimes it's hard to find those perfect moments. You've gotten stressy, fallen behind, been forgotten, been late, gotten lost or anything else. It's harder to appreciate the imperfections that throw a shadow of unique on everything. By the end of the day, it can be impossible.

Kids are kind of like that. They start off so perfect, and anyone can recognize a million beautiful things about them. Even a stranger. Their tiny nails, and translucent skin, the squeaks and squirms and hearty cries. The way their eyelashes seem to almost be made of light, and how when they fall asleep on your shoulder, you could swear they were angels. It's so easy to find their innocence, it radiates outside of them and seeps into everyone inside of a mile. You feel yourself get younger just watching them.

But a little later, when they fall down screaming and then make like an over cooked noodle when you try to pick them up, and they test you and push you and saw at your last nerve until you can actually feel yourself cracking, that's when it's harder.

My husband works with teenagers who are always, always, ALWAYS that kid that the average stranger would not like. They are dangerous, dishonest, and always in trouble. They lack impulse control, and are either unable to predict consequences or they just don't care. They would rather spend three times more energy avoiding responsibilities than it would take to just DO IT. He came home one day, and held our children while he shook and he looked at me and asked "Is it hard? Please, tell me it is hard to fuck up children THAT badly".

I didn't have an answer, and still don't. All my experience being a child, a teenager, a young adult, an irrisponsible student, a social service worker, and a parent does not qualify my to answer that. I really have no idea. I hope the answer is yes, it's hard to screw up kids that badly. You have to work to be that negligent. But I don't know. I think that it's important to remember though, that like the days that end with little to recomend it...they started off perfect and people are no different.

They start off perfect too.

My personal list of awsomeness

For those of you who would not choose to live in a bookstore, who do not peruse the new release list daily, who don't get email updates revealing treasured release dates of closely followed books by much loved authors, there is a new book out called the Book of Awsome. This book is full of the daily happenings that make life just a little bit easier. The things that happen that make you think, that's so awsome. They happen to us all, not always appreciated but they're there.

This is my personal list of awesomeness. Some of them are no doubt in the Book of Awsome, and if so any copying is not my fault. It just means I happen to agree with the level of awsome contained.

In all honesty, we live in a world with too much crap and sadness in it. Earthquakes and famine, disease, economic instability, violence and death. It's on every news broadcast, every newspaper, every time you log onto the internet. That shit can get you down, it really can, and when you get down sometimes it's hard to find the little things in life that should always make you smile.

So take stock, make a list, and smile on.

1. Finding your own money that you didn't know you lost.

It happens to all of us once in a while, and it's guaronteed to make you say "that's awesome!" The season is changing from the cold season to the warm season, or vise versa. It's at this time that you start getting out clothes that have either been packed away or left alone. You put on a pair of jeans for the first time in months, do a few squats to break them in and jam your hands in your pockets to adjust the waist and straighten out the pockets. Your fingers brush something papery, you pull it out and BINGO! 20 bucks.

yep, it's free. Money that was yours, that you forgot about and is now yours again. Welcome to awsome my friend.

2. New socks.

There's nothing better than putting on a fresh pair of never worn socks. They fit perfectly, they aren't thin in the toes or bunchy in the heels, they are not stained, there are no weird toe holes that you can feel alllll day. Perfect socks. They're awsome.

3. The surprise envelope in the mail.

Five days a week, you check the mail. An empty mail box is a beautiful thing. If it's empty, it might mean that no one wrote to you, but honestly...facebook my friend. It's the new mailbox. Instantaneous, and free. An empty mail box means that today, you do not owe money. No bills! AWSOME!!!!!
But even better, is the dreaded government labled envelope. You see it and your heart beats a little faster...your hands might even get sweaty. YOu start thinking that you probably are going to have to cancel plans...and you wince over the new jeans you bought. If you're like me...you put it on the computer table...under something convenient, and enjoy the knowledge that for now the contents of the envelope are a mystery.
Eventually though, you're going to have to open it. Sometimes, you open it and find a great big pile of the opposite of awsome. But sometimes...you find a cheque. Free money. YOUR money. You take out all the papers, to make sure that they haven't snuck in a reverse-awsome trick...but nope. AWSOME. So go out, get a new pair of boots...and with every step you take, listen to what you're feet are telling you as they dance along the floors in the mall on your spree. If you try very very VERY hard, you'll hear them saying "aw-some"

4. Fresh bread and soft butter.

Fresh bread alone is awsome, I know. How can you possibly improve on the awsomeness of a fresh loaf of bread, warm and crusty with steam coming off the top. So soft in the middle, so delicious. And the SMELL. It smells like home, like a grandmother, like safety. It smells like peace, and serenity. It's what a break smells like. You feel comforted by the scent, that smell that anyone could recognise. At this point, there are really only two possible outcomes.
a) you sit down and slice a nice piece off, and TRY to butter it. But your butter is hard, and your bread tears. There's little balls of rolled up butter plastered to your bread, and pieces of it are missing and scattered. It's squashed, mishapen...It doesn't look the same. And no matter how many times you try to tell yourself it's not really different...it IS. It's not going to taste like magic...and you KNOW it.

OR

b) You sit down with your delicious mouth watering treat, spread some soft butter ALL over it and munch on. It tastes better than you imagined...it fills your mouth with happiness. You feel complete and at one with your bread, satisfied with your experience. Warmth and happiness and comfort radiate off of you in waves. Option B, totally awsome. Option A...close...but no cigar. So for those of you who need a little comfort and are banking on not being disabused of your awsome notions...warm up your butter FIRST.

5. baby sitters.

Kids are awsome. they REALLY are. Most of the time. Almost all of the time. But sometimes, you want to run away, crawl into a deep dark dirty hole and curl up into the fetal position and tremble until the sound of screaming that seems to ricochet through your skull goes blessedly, silent. On these days, the faint thread of guilt as you drop your miserable child off at the sitter doesn't QUITE outweigh you're rising sense of excitement and freedome as you happily skip off to work or your lobotomy appointment. Nine times out of ten, their horrendous mood is put on hold while they innocently giggle and laugh until you pick them up again, and immediately resume all previous behavior. Regardless, you managed 8 hours of awsome.

6. Dryer clothes

If you're around my age, you might remember being very small and climbing into the pile of clean clothes, still warm from the dryer and smelling wonderful. The fragrance of fabric softener, no matter what kind, is always lovely. As an adult, I occasionally wrap myself in my fluffiest towel, still warm from the dryer and close my eyes. I can feel myself being transported to a six year old me, wearing a face splitting grin sans front teeth and burrowing in my moms flannel night gown. No one can ever complain surrounded by that. Not right then, at that moment. I think it might even mellow a crack head going through withdrawl. It's a thought you know, therapy via heat and fabric softener. In any case, my research has shown a direct correlation between freshly dried clothes and awsome. You'll want to expirement for yourself. It's not like it can make a day worse.

From One Baby to Another:

Greetings babies everywhere!

Now that I have reached six months of age, a veteran you might say, I thought it was my duty to share with you all that I have learned about the world around me! haha SHIT no! What this is right here, is all you need to know about controlling the environment, controlling your family, and getting as much out of your life as possible. I am sure that to many of you, it seems like a complicated process but once you've learned the fundamentals, it's really very easy.

The main thing you have to remember is to act as though you are the boss.
Because you ARE.
Behave in a manner that leads the lady and man adult to believe that what they owe you most is happiness, and that they are failing miserably.
It keeps them on their toes.
Make sure to give them enough smiles to keep them trying for more, otherwise you'll push them right over the edge. I find this one works best:


It's important to factor in size. I have learned that with minimal effort, I am able to get away with less and less as my size has increased. For example, when I was very new and small, I was able to kick my man adult out of bed for eight weeks. I know it was his bed because he always left it in varying stages of anger, sadness, frustration and/or exhaustion when I got screamy as soon as he got in. For this to be successful, timing really is everything. If you start too early in the day, you're liable to wear yourself out completely, and it's entirely possible that you'll sleep in your own bed for a half hour before waking, enabling said man adult to get some rest in his own bed. I found it beneficial to start screaming at around six.
Now, it's important to remember that not everyone has my stamina. I don't mean to sound boastful, but at my smallest I was quite capable of reducing my lady adult to tears and then carrying on until eleven or twelve at night. That wasn't colic either, just verbal misery at a high decibel. Considering how much she disrupted my life at the time, I only feel a little guilty about that.
Which brings me to a very important point. The lady and man adults have their own job, and we as babies, have another one. It is our jobs to be needy, clingy, distracting, oderous, dependant, with a nice sidedish of cute and lovable to keep them coming back for more. Their job is not only to deal with it, but deal with it happily. Don't feel guilty about it. Thems the breaks. Besides, you're going to have to get more creative as you get older, so you might as well enjoy it.
Now, about dinner.
Dinner is a special time for everyone, for different reasons. For the lady and man adults, their dinner is a time of satisfaction, which I can easily ruin in several different ways. The standards are crying, puking, or banging myself in the face with a toy by "accident", but don't stifle your creativity by depending on these.
But I wasn't really talking about their dinner, I was talking about mine.
I have learned that as the baby, the lady and man adults take an inexplicable delight in my food. The seem overly exited about my reactions to different tastes. A word to the wise: prune will come back to bite you in a bad way, and meat is good.
That being said, if the food your lady or man adult is offering you is green, or orange without a sweet aroma I suggest the following behavior:
1. take one mouthfull and spit it out on your bib
2. arch your back so as to slide down the seat of your highchair, giving yourself the most uncomfortable appearance possible
3. Compress your neck to the point that it appears that you have none, thereby squishing your spit out bite into your chins, making your adult consider the cleanup before offering it again.
4. make an angry growling noise.
5. Repeat as many times as necessary.

These five steps should be enough to ensure that you receive the delicacies that befit your station ie: fruit and meat.

that's all for now my fellow babies! I am going to go have a nap. I need my rest because later I plan on squirming until they put me in my bouncing apparatus, at which time I will take a rather large dump followed by jumping forcefully. I haven't yet managed to get it in my hair yet, but I'm trying.

Check back often for more tips on controlling the universe!

Loss of Faith...or maybe hope.

I have spent most of my life trying to believe in God. I have honestly watched that faith save a life. I have no doubt that without my mothers unswerving faith and love in God, without the belief that He is there, loving her in return, sheltering and protecting her, without her belief that her heart is still beating simply because He wills it so, I would not have my mother today. I have seen others stand tall under fire, so to speak, gaining strength from the belief that God would not give them more than they could handle. Others give thanks to Him for every blessing, living in a state of grace that I find baffling.

There are times in my life that I have envied these people their unswerving belief and faith, while at the same time trying (some days more unsuccessfully than others) not to judge them for believing blindly without ever questioning the plausibility of their belief.

I spent a great deal of my childhood learning about God, and even as a child I didn't understand this blind faith. I would learn the bible, and though I tried so hard to accept it as others did, I wasn't able to banish my scepticism. I have heard someone say that Faith and belief in God is not a place you arrive at and stay, but a series of actions that you repeat every day. Kind of like forgiving someone who doesn't deserve it.

To me, it seems the bible, or Gods word, are so hypocritical and contradictory...and yet I seem to be one of the few who sees it. It is enough to cause a child to believe there must be something wrong with them, since they are the only ones who doubt.

For example...Noahs ark.
Seriously? One old man built a boat because God told him that it would rain non stop for 40 days and nights. This old man, who lived in a time where the world was flat, was to load his family onto the boat, as well as one female and one male animal of every species. Now, some of this would be easy (if you count constructing a boat without nails easy) but really...this is just impossible for so many reasons. Here's a shortish list of them:

1. IF the world were covered in water for 40 days and nights, most plants would have gone extinct since they need sunlight and carbon dioxide to live, which is kind of impossible for land dwelling plants to find in a 100% aquatic environment. That being said, last I heard Noah wasn't a deep sea diver, so collecting water dwelling plants wouldn't have been possible either. You might say that it would un necessary, since water plants need water to survive, however, coral needs a very specific environment to survive, which does not include a mixture of fresh and salt water, and a change in temperature.
2. To continue along with plants, concider that in the last 200 years many plants have gone extinct due to lack of environment, polution, clear cutting etc...and yet there are millions of different plant species today. Go back a thousand years or so...how many plants were there? LOTS. So one old man went on a world wide expedition, after building a huge boat, and collected seeds and cuttings from the milllions of plants that were in existance.
3. Not to mention the animals. I can just picture Noah rustling up a couple of Hippos, aligators, crocodiles, blue whales, great white sharks, venomous snakes and spiders, polar bears, etc. I hadn't heard that he had a magic pipe in his pocket like the pide piper.
4. Lets assume though that he did manage this feat of getting a male and female of every living species onto his boat. What the hell did he feed them? Cows and goats and chickens would have been easy I suppose...but I somehow doubt that with all of the animals around, there would have been even close to enough room to house all of the food it would take to feed elephants and hippos, not to mention the meat eaters.
5. Having that many bodies on a boat, no matter how large or small, is going to breed disease. In a time when people were completely uneducated about the existance of germs, when people didn't see the need to wash your hands after wiping your arse, I find it hard to believe that much would have survived such a long time of enforced captivity. If you think about it, chicken farms today give their chickens antibiotics because so many of them live so close together amid shit and dirt (kind of like how the Arc would have been. If even one chicken contracts an illness, there is a likelihood that a large population of the chickens would be affected. If you add up these conditions (germs and lack of knowledge + unsanitary conditions + alot of living, breathing, urinating, and excreting living bodies) your most likely consequence would be a floating plank with a lot of dead bodies on it. I guess Noah was just a lucky guy!

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that a lot of the bible is based on truth as the people who lived in that time saw it. This is a patturn that you can see being repeated all through history though. Then a man was absolutely possitive that a bush spoke to him and it was generally decided that obviously, it was the voice of God. 200 years ago, this same person would have been tried as a witch, and in 2010 would be heavily medicated and hospitalized. Every civilization has had it's beliefs and superstitions.

That's just one story though.

There's the plagues. Once believed to be the will of god, now explained through science. The same goes for the burning bushes. The trek through the desert and bringing water forth from stones? Also explained by science. Mana? Science wins again.

200 years ago, people were born and so many of them never went farther from their place of birth than they could walk in a day. They lived and breathed what preachers told them. When medicine rarely offered a cure that good hygeine and diet couldn't, it was easier to accept death and disease as God's will, rather than accepting that life just SUCKS sometimes. When many children didn't live past infancy, it would have been easier to think of them in Gods arms than to accept that life was just too hard and too unhealthy, disease and germs to prevalent to allow anything but the hardiest and most fortunate to survive. God was easier to believe in, when real information was impossible to get your hands on.

Lets go to the MOST basic principle of the bible. Creation. I have argued the point with my husband many many times out of pure stubborness. I don't know how many times I've told him "Though you may have come from a monkey, I did not". 20 years of trying to believe in God is no match for several hours in front of documentaries. Though there is no proof of creation, there is much proof of evolution. The Big Bang has actually been created. Did you know our universe is still exploding outward from the original bang? Yup. Much as I hate to admit it, my infinately great grandparents lived in trees and ate bananas and threw shit at eachother when they felt like it. It was nice thinking that was just the hubby's family, but alas...

The upside is I am not conflicted anymore. The downside? I now know that I will never see my grandmother again. She isn't somewhere beautiful waiting for me. When my parents are gone, they really will be gone. When I am gone, I will never see my children again. All the people I love...they will all be lost to me some day. It is a sad and depressing thought but this is the only life we have. The only time we have. There is no after, no later. Only now. It makes it that much more important, more necessary to play with your children, to love your partner, to care for your parents, to enjoy your life. You only get this one, this ONE time around the sun before your light goes out.

It is hard to live life knowing that if I live my life well, or live it badly I will still end up the same. It is hard to know that the lowest common denominators of society will end up in the same place as the best. That there isn't something good in store for me, and fire and brimstone for the pedophiles and abusers and ruiners of life and innocence. The truth is though, that the pay off is in the now, not the later.

I am saddened by my loss of faith, and yet renewed. The world is so much more beautiful now that I know I only get to see it this once. My children are more precious now that I know I only get these days once, there is no more. I can see why religeon was born. People need to believe in something. After 20 years, I believe in my children and my family and myself. I believe in the power of today, and the hope for tomorrow. At first loosing faith was painful, and dwelling on all the other losses that go along with loosing God were painful but with time has come acceptance.

I have no wish to offend the population around me, and have no desire to recruit you over to the dark side. If there is enough wonder in the world for you to believe in a God that loves us all and is waiting to welcome you Home one day, then you are blessed I suppose. This is only my own personal opinion.

Cupid is a morbidly obese whore

You know what I think you should do, Cupid? Go FUCK yourself. That's right, I said it. You're a greedy whore. Your triple chin smells of cheep chocolate, and you completely overcharge for roses. I personally think you should be banned from Walmart, for commercializing a day of love and turning it into a day of hate and making us all feel the need to buy into your silly scheme of crappy stuffed bears, gaudy necklaces and stale candy. Your perverted cloth diaper is indecent, and while you may have once been a cute glowing little cherub, you are now nothing more than a fat sticky old man in padded underwear.

I am unable to compose poetry and love songs for my husband, so thank you for making me look like a complacent lazy ass. As I am now far too old to go through the trouble of lining the sheets with rose petals, and leaving shiny little I LOVE YOU confetti on the dinner table and finding a website that makes personalized candy hearts...and I don't have the time to clean it up anyways. Fuck you very much you bastard for those tidbits.

So this year, I'm turning traitor. I am not taking part in your stupid day. This year, I will love my husband because it's SUNDAY, and I'll treat him like I love him too. Just because it's SUNDAY, not because you've left your personal stamp on every god damn calender, not because you've strewn your rubbish in every store. Maybe I'll throw in a foot rub, or a bath with candles (and cupid, if you snicker the word GAY just once in his direction I'll kick your candied ass all over the place you FAT bastard...besides, not much straight about a clout is there?).

Two years ago I hated you as much as I do today, for your sickening colors, your trashy objects meant to represent love, your noisy cards and disgusting candies. Esepecially for giving all of us a reason to remember how much we love our people on one particular day of the year. I know damn well my people deserve better than you, hell some days they deserve better than me! Two years ago my husband fell in love with me without your help, and for some reason I'm fortunate enough to find myself still basking in it.

Take a hike Cupid, I got this. It's all me. I'm not sure I want to have you to thank for a "romantic evening" anyways.

Hit the road jack,
and don't ya come back no more no more.....

Five whole months later!

It's been five months since I became a mother of two, since Faith has become a big sister, since Marlee's been making continual noise. I've sat down half a dozen times to write, only to find myself struggling to find words. I've tried to write humorously...and just stared. I've tried to write from the heart, and it sounds like drunken rambling. I've tried to just write honestly about the good, the bad, and the ugly...and I still get no where.

This isn't like me. I never struggle to write, ever. Words come easily and naturally. I never need to edit anything, simply because the words fall down perfectly on paper. But now...now that I have so many amazing things to share...nothing. Why do you ask?

I have a theory.

Some people go to the gym when they're pissed, or they go outside and run, pounding the pavement until they're human again. Some people draw, pouring all their emotion onto the paper until they are empty and their paper is full. Some people clean, not stopping until the house smells of lemons and everything is back in it's home, not relaxing because they simply need to have order SOMEWHERE. Some people drive fast and sing at the top of their voices. Some people roll really fat joints and hang out in their basements until they've chilled out enough to face the world again.

Most of that seems far to energetic for me, far too time consuming, and far too short lived. I could go out and run until I puke, but all I'll feel is tired. I could draw until I want to destroy things because I really suck at drawing. I could sing, but it would embarrass me. I could hide in the basement and smoke joints I suppose, but I would imagine it would damage my kids...and set a horrible example.

In times of emotional turmoil though, I write. I write stories, or poetry. I write angry letters that I will never share. I write whatever comes into my head. When I am angry, or sad, or stressed to the max, I can write things that will break even the crustiest old bastards heart. I pour all my emotion into a pen and paper, and by the time I get to the end I feel better.

I'm just too damn happy lately. That's the problem. I'm so happy, all I can write is gibberish. I laugh and smile too much to write anything outstanding. I am too at ease in my life to feel turmoil. My days are so full of giggles and snuggles that I have no room for anger. I laugh so often, any stress I have seems to escape out of me and evaporate while I'm doing it. All good, really. Except I can't express it on paper...because I only write well when I'm NOT well. Which sucks...not that I'm complaining. I just wish that my gift for writing wouldn't be so damn testy.

It's all my families fault.

My husband is off work until further notice. Actually, I think he's off work until he's had his knee operated on...which could be a while. As he is the major bread winner, this did send both of us into panic mode. I did some crying and hiding and panicking...and my husband turned our house into a seriously organized, gleaming, lemony germ free paradise. Normally this would send me into a tailspin, but because I'm so happy....I got over it. So I've decided that we're going to be broke ass and happy...and we are.

We are so broke. We only buy food on sale. We have very few tv channels. We don't call our friends long distance. We can't pay all our bills at once. We rolled all of the change. We took a car off the road, we can't afford to over eat, we buy cheap formula...we don't waste water, gas or hydro. we don't throw food away anymore (except for what I made for supper which was garbage). We MIGHT not be able to pay the mortgage next month, unless I can find a job, which I'm working on.

And yet, my husband is home with me. I have a best friend beside me all the time. I never have to deal with a screaming baby and a five year old with a gazillion questions and a ringing phone and a meowing cat and a beeping dryer and a pot over boiling and a doorbell ringing all by myself. Sometimes I get to sleep in. Sometimes I get to have a bath and read until the water gets cold without having to worry that the baby will start crying and I'll have to streak past the windows buck naked, cold and wet...I can just stay in. I have someone that makes me laugh all the time, someone I can depend on. I get to watch him falling in love with the kids in a way he couldn't when he worked. He gets to be here for so much more now. All of a sudden, Faith calls him dad. He won't miss anything, and it makes me happy to know that when we're all old and gimpy and grey we sit on our rocking chair and remember our kids firsts together.

I have a funny feeling that if we had a lot of money, we wouldn't be able to have what we've got...and when we are all old and shriveled...we wouldn't have much to laugh about. Seems to me...happiness and laughter are worth more. I say, bring on the KD and giggles, you can keep your lobster and frowny faces.

I can't help but have a permasmile when I'm with my kids almost all the time now. Marlee has become an absolute delight. The new born that screamed bloody murder every time she was put down, now lets us know in no uncertain terms that she likes to be by herself sometimes. Where once Mark and I would spend hours rocking, bouncing, walking and crying just to get her to closer her eyes for half an hour, now refuses to go to sleep unless you put her down in her bed. The serious baby who wouldn't laugh and wouldn't smile, now squeals and giggles and grins and hums. Marlee has been a constant source of noise since three days after birth, but now her noises don't make us want to tear all of our hair out, crawl under a rock and cry until we die of dehydration. She loves her sister to bits and pieces, and the look of delight on her face when she catches sight of one of us makes our day. Even the cat loves her, faithfully lying down on the carpet under her jolly jumper and congenially allowing her to jump on her gunt.

Faith is a rock star of a big sister. She's a rock star in general. Always happy, always helping, and almost always listening. Sometimes I wonder if it's luck that's given me this wonderful child, or if I'm just that good of a parent. If the fact that she's so good, so happy, so well behaved is due to me...then I have to say Kudo's to me. I've never been that good at anything before and it's gratifying to know that the one thing that I value most in my life, is what I'm good at...so good that I've managed to do it all right.

So here I sit, with 1/4 of the income I'm used to, and it's unclear weather or not I'll have more in the near future...and yet I'm thrilled. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life. In fact, if my hubby were to be able to go back to work, a very large part of me would be disappointed. Who knows what tomorrow will bring but I'm willing to bet that we'll be happy together...and that's what matters right?

These are a few of the things that I HATE

1. To get food out of the way, I'll list the most hated things: onions, peppers, spicey, tikka masala, brussel sprouts, brown rice, scotch, green tea, apples
2. coffee
3. dogs
4. drool
5. dog drool
6. socks with no matches (I HATE loosing socks!)
7. wet bathroom carpets
8. People who drive UNDER the speed limit
9. People who consistently drive anywhere between 70-110 k/h on the highway
10. people who drive over my foot in the grocery store and don't even seem to notice that their cart just went thump-thump and I went "OW! EXCUSE ME!"
11. People who allow their more-than-old-enough-to-know-better children to make rediculous noises in outside voices. Like "WEE-OOO-WEE-OOO-WEE-OOO" for minutes on end in walmart. ugh.
12. when my oldest daughter completely ignores everything I have to say and keeps saying "Hugh?"
13. hair leftover in the bathtub after baths/showers
14. The fact that my S button on my puter doesn't work well
15. being asked the same damn question over and over, just using different words. I wish I could explain to my daughter that it doesn't matter how many ways you ask me if you can have chocolate right after cereal, the answer is no. I am not opposed to the wording of your question...I am opposed to the question iteself.
16. Mariah Carey...
17. How society as a whole has become incredibly lazy, reticent, unskilled, and stagnat, where everything is disposable and everyone is replaceable.
19. People who don't pick up their dogs poop
20. When Marlee is screaming, and Faith decides that chanting LA-LALA-LA-LAAAAA in a voice louder than her crying sisters, and Mark asks me a question from another room.
21. When my mom comes over and cleans my house for me, not because I don't appreciate the help but because I'm ashamed that I need it.

And because I'm avoiding negative pointless cynicism for the time being, I'm going the end this before I fall off the bandwagon, land on my feet running and wake up in hell on christmas morning.

These are a few of my favorite things...

The Christmas season means something different to everyone. For most of us, it is a time for gathering with friends and family. It is a time for wine, and turkey, and party dresses. For laughter, and peace. For hot chocolate, cheesy music, sweaters, and the smell of pine. A time for anxiety as well, anxiety over the cleanliness of your house, potential weight gain, behavior of children, enforced time spent with inlaws, weather, travel, money, being seriously outdone in giftgiving and looking like the grinch...among other things. With all of the toy commercials that come out during the season to appeal to the youngest generation, the deals in the auto and tool industry to appeal to the men, and everything else sucking in women, Christmas has tuned into a delicate dance of money spent on others vs. their potential spending limit. (This is only my opinion, a cynical one maybe, which you are welcome of course to share...but you don't have to.) Maybe during the holiday season, it's important to remember all of the things that are yours, that cannot be taken from you, that you will not loose even if you've lost everything, that make you happy......
So this is my list...and discovering just how much these different things mean to me makes the holiday season so much sweeter because I see so clearly how many gifts I already have.



1. Marlee, when she's being nice
2. Faith, always (she's ALWAYS nice)
3. Mark on most days
4. moms homemade cookies
5. mom's homemade spagetti sauce
6. new socks (If all I got for xmas was new socks, I'm cool)
7. Photo editing
8. When Marlee yells at someone else
9. Sleep
10. People who have OCD
11. Yelling at bad drivers from the safety of my car, with the windows rolled up. It makes me feel better, but prevents road rage which I think is a win win for everyone.
12. music
13. books
14. babies in walmart that scream louder than mine...but only because then no one is staring at me anymore.
15. My sisters unflatering insult, reserved for special occasions "pond whore". which sounds so much filthier than just plain old dirty whore.
16. The new camera package I just won, that retails for more than 2500...
17. Did I mention my husband yet? *please note, the order in which items appear does not necessarily reflect their order of importance*
18. The fictional characters of James and Claire Fraser, Laird and Lady of Broch Tuark.
19. Moments in time that are so perfect and peaceful, they are burned forever in your mind.
20. Sleepy warm midnight snuggles with Marlee...
21. The unconditional acceptance of my family
22. French Canadian Cuisine
23. Good tuperware.
24. When you hear that song on the radio that is your life song in that moment in time.
25. Funny beer commercials during the superbowl
26. When something happens that makes you laugh from the toes up.
27. When you do something so awsome, you make your kids eyes sparkle. Like using a clothes pin and towel to transform into supermom, who sends secret messages to the tiny fighters in her body to help kick germ butts!
28. How little things leave my husband feeling weepy-ish, and me dry eyed.
29. Hearing my daughter tell her marky that if he shaved off his beard he could be prince charming.
30. Having the ability to drop by and see my parents any day.
31. Knowing that because I am strong enough, my husband is strong enough, and as a family we are strong enough, I can say today with total and complete confidence that we will make it through it all. We will always be

More than anything else, my kids make me happy.

More than anything else, my kids make me happy. This is what happened today.

I play this stupid cooking game on the computer. I know it's stupid. Brainless. Redunkulous even. But I'm sadly addicted to the game, and I'm checking it every time I get five quiet minutes. I don't get very many quiet minutes, between a two month old who doesn't really nap and a five year old who's been yanked from school until she got her H1N1 vaccine. (say what you will, h1n1 is effing scary. I don't care if it's been blown out of proportion. I don't care if the chances of one of my children dying of h1n1 is smaller than the chances of one of them dying while getting hit by a car. way smaller. I know that canada hasn't studied the vaccine. I know other countries have. I know. I ALSO know that the chances of my child catching h1n1 at school and bringing it home to my 2 month old are higher than not, and I KNOW that if anything were to happen, I would never forgive myself. So before any one jumps down my throat about the stupid vaccine, just back up and don't ok?)

So anyways, this is why my kids make me happy. I play this stupid cooking game. I check it often, 30 seconds at a time, maybe ten times a day. I have a borned perfectly healthy five year old, and a demanding 2 month old who rarely naps. Between crying and questions, bed time and meal times, laundry and dishes, demands of child 1 and demands of child 2, I have 0 minutes of truely free time. I rarely have the time to just sit down and play with Faith anymore. It makes me sad...because she's a pretty cool kid. So the other day, while Mark wasn't working, Faith came up to me and asked me to play kitchen with her in her room. What I wanted to do was say no, and sit down somewhere nobody else was and listen to quiet. But instead, a little voice told me that if I won't play kitchen with her but I will play it bymyself on the computer, lines will be drawn and dots connected in her head in ways I don't want. So up to her room I went.

This is approximately the best conversation ever.

Faith: here's a menu customer! (on it is a picture of spagetti, chicken noodle soup and cake, every five year olds stand by list)

Me: I'll have spagetti and poo balls please

Faith: M-O-M!

Me: Ok, just regular plain old spagetti then

Faith: Just pretend I have more ingredients than shapes and princesses ok? (to any imaginary disney characters hovering in her closet, that must seem diabolical)

Me: Ok, I'll pretend you have more than shapes and princesses.

Faith: Wait! I have string!!!!

Me: Oh good! Yummy. Could I have some tea too?

Faith: Fine...sigh. (seriously not getting a tip) Here's your tea and salt.

Me: mmmmmmmm.

Faith: If you're finished your spagetti I have something else I'm cooking.

Me: All done! What did you cook?

Faith: a salami. a spicy one.

Me: How did you cook me a spicy salami?

Faith: I used my recipe book (goes and gets story book from shelf)

Me: is that like gramma's recipe book?

Faith: no mom, it's a story book. I'm pretending. (she saves her "god-mom-you're-such-a-fucking-idiot" tone of voice and her "I'm-surrounded-by-idiots" tone of face for this line.

Me: Oh! Pardon me, I didn't notice. Are you pretending it's like grammas recipe book then?

Faith: yes yes yes yes yes. Here's you're salami

Me: it's too spicey. Could I have the not spicey kind?

Faith: Fine, but you'll have to wait for three hours while I cook ANOTHER one and I have to wash all of your dishes. You're not my only cutomer you know!


Then she proceeded to ignore me while she served her barbies.


This is the other reason my kids make me happy.

I was gone all day, taking Faith for her shot, going to walmart etc etc and Marlee was home with her Dad. I left at ten this morning, and got back maybe at three. I barely saw her, and she barely saw me. I didn't think she'd really notice. Apparently she did.
She smiled so big at me, and ran through all her tricks. Then she started making her imminent starvation noises so I fed her. Around a mouthfull of boob, she continued to stare at me and chat at me. She babbled her first real sound. Not just noise. A real sound. She said A-GHEE. Before she said A-GHEE she was a very floppy baby, with almost no personality. She was just a new born. But now, now she belongs to the world. Her first big milestone...passed already. Over. Just like that.

Maybe that doesn't seem like a big deal to most people. Maybe that seems possitively boring, right next to watching paint dry. Maybe to you, that isn't the description of a day you would rank with your best. I understand. But for me...I would rather have this kind of day any day.

I got to go on a trip with my big girl, and she took me to her world. Where you're never sure if you're pretending right or not. Then my baby talked to me about her day. I didn't understand it...but she talked.

My kids don't just make me happy. They give me peace, the give me serenity. They tether me to the earth, they make it spin. They make every moment worth breathing in. They really are the best kids, and this really is the best life.

What did I do to get so lucky?

To my daughters, 5 years and 2 months

Everything has changed. Absolutely everything.

The whole trasformation started on August 24. Well, no, it started about 40 weeks before that but the big change started on August 24. It was hot that day, and I was 39 weeks and 6 days pregnant, on the bottom end of a failed membrane sweep that made me feel like I had been used for a puppet, and miserable. Despite the impossibility, I felt that I would be pregnant forever. The baby wasn't coming out. Ever.

Mark and I left our oldest daughter with my mother for the afternoon and went to another midwife appointment. Mark had just come off a couple night shifts and was going to sleep after the midwife appointment. We had a second membrane sweep which is never comfortable, but apparently the baby was still sitting quite high and my cervix seemed like it was hiding out near my bellybutton trying out for a new job. On the possitive side, I think the mw managed to give my tonsils a scratch.

We left the mw office before lunch under the advice not to stray too far. We were commanded to go for a walk, so we headed up to Perth, a lovely scenic town offering nifty shopping. Off we went. I was crampy, hot, swollen and irritable. Mark was exhausted but in good spirits. He walked and I waddled around town, then we stopped at this cute little restoraunt and had soup and a sandwitch. Their pie looked excellent, but I was still pissed off at the unfairness that I would be pregnant for all of eternity and so did not partake. I regret that decision. It was probaby good pie.

Mark looked like a zombie, so I said we should just go home so he could sleep. In reality, I didn't care if he was tired. The car had a/c. I would have murdered a homeless person for a/c. So we climbed in. Once my internal body temperature had climbed back down from the melting point, I became concious of regular tightenings. I didn't look at the clock, I wasn't having a baby anyways. We had to pass through the town with our mw in it on the way home, so I suggested we just pop in and let her know that I was contracting regularly...I was just too stuborn to find out HOW regularly. She suggested we rent a hotel so mark could sleep. We decided to go home, we couldn't afford a hotel. On the way home, Mark gave me his watch and told me to keep count. I was contracting every five-ish minutes, but they weren't painful. I figured it was just my body's terrible sense of humor playing a nasty trick.

Under orders, I telephoned the mw and told her. Mark forced me. He was a man on the edge, perfectly balanced on the fence that is the silent and still line between panic and action. She told us to go home, take two tylenol and get in the bath. She would see a couple more ladies and call me back. Mark practically man handled me into the bath tub with this blank look on his face that said louder than words that he was perfectly willing to force me to do what ever the mw said. So I got in the tub. My five year old fed me dip and chips. Spinach dip. It was yummy. So then the mw called back and asked if I was still contracting regularly. I was then told it was time to go.

From the look on Marks face I knew these things

1. no more dip

2. if I didn't get dressed immediately, I would experience the hour long drive to hospital naked.

So naturally, I hauled my fat ass out of the tub and got dressed with as much dignity as I could manage. I still didn't believe it was time, and was possitive that the mw would end up at the hospital just to tell us to go back home.

By the time we got the the hospital it was maybe 2 or three. She checked me and the whole time I felt embarassed because I didn't believe I was in labor. She told us it was early labor, but my first daughter was born quickly and she wasn't about to send us home. So we went walking. We went to meet my mother who was coming to join us after dropping off my oldest daughter with my father. Then we went back and I got hooked up to my iv which I needed for my first course of antibiotics. More walking. We went outside so the smokers could enjoy a bit.

When we went back in there was another largly pregnant woman sitting in a chair panting and looking a little wild in the eyes, which quickly turned a bit spiteful when she saw me walking around laughing and talking with my family. Guess she was in pain, and the fact that I obviously wasn't bothered her. Sorry.

We walked to the gift shop, and the timmy's. Went back to the room. I was at four or five cms but still in early labor. Apparently my cervix/belly button was quite thick. I honestly didn't even feel most of the contractions and was still waiting for someone to realize that I was so NOT having a baby and send me home. She offered to break my water, once I reached five, and then we could all go home at a reasonalbe hour. OK then, whatever works. So I got my water broken and asked if I could get in the tub. It looked like a wonderful experience...a nice big deep tub with jets. HELLS YA! So in I got.

Labor progressed quickly. The pains came on with the strength of a sledge hammer. W-O-W. I breathed through them and privately got very worried about managing to make it through without meds. But I shut up and kept breathing. I was determined to have the baby quietly and calmly. RIGHT. Eventually I started clutching Marks hand and had to fight back tears a few times. I couldn't believe the pain. He was on his knees on the tile floor beside me, pouring warm water on all the parts of me that wouldn't fit in the tub. He draped a face cloth over the parts he knew I wouldn't want everyone to see. He stayed there for as long as I was in the tub. I think I got out around nine. Once I got the the point that I was really struggling, the mw came in and told me to make low noises. It would help. I thought it was bullshit...and also thought that she sounded like a wounded buffalo. I had no desire to compromise my dignity any further and ignored her. Her student came in...we found out later that Mark scared her. She needed to monitor the baby's heartbeat regularly but I hated it during contractions...so mark kept telling her when to back off. She was young.

When I was researching natural birth I was lead to believe that labouring and birthing in water is a natural pain killer or something. Bullshit. SOOOO bullshit. It doesn't help. The mw student told Mark if he pinched a certain part on my hand it would stimulate my brain to make more endorphines or something. Also bullshit. They gave me a TENS, which sends small shocks to your muscles, and is supposed to help with pain. More bullshit. There is no natural way of making natural labour easy. I'm not even sure if it can be made easier...it's brutal. And painful. More painful than I could ever describe.

Eventually, I finally caved and asked for the gas. I could handle the gas. So they brought me gas. I huffed on it during contractions, leaving a nasty taste in my mouth. During one particularly bad one, I huffed a little more than I had been and noted a pleasant dizzy drifting sensation...so I kept huffing on it even when I wasn't contracting for a bit. Just for shits and giggles.

That was the last bit of fun I had that night.

At some point I decided or the mw decided it was time to get out. I don't remember. I got out under my own steam and waddled to the bed. She checked me. I was a six but completely thinned. The mw said I would have a baby in an hour. I didn't believe her. I was a four when I got there, and I was only a six...hours and hours and hours later. Painful drug free hours. I cried for a bit, and then I asked for drugs. Just a little bit. She said that because she knew I was delivering so soon, I couldn't have anything BUT an epidural. I didn't want that. So I cried a bit more.

Then there was a new pain. My hips...they hurt so badly all of a sudden. They hurt...and it just kept getting worse and worse. The mw kept trying to make me move, but I was afraid. It seemed that every time I moved, something started hurting...so I decided to make like a statue. For a skinny woman, the mw was quite tough. I was man handled (again) and with no co operation on my part, onto my hands and knees on the bed. Wow. I thought I was fresh out of dignity before. Now I'm REALLY out. They found the last shred of it and destroyed it. I felt like a dog. No one should have to be in that much pain, on all fours like a dog while naked, in front of five people.

I forgot about it. My hips. I thought they would fly apart, break into tiny pieces, dislocate. I started screaming. Screaming for drugs. Screaming screaming screaming. Someone kept telling me to push, she was almost here. I screamed. Someone told me she was so tiny, she needed me to help her. I screamed and screamed. I screamed "I CAN'T" but they didn't understand. I really couldn't. I couldn't make my body do anything. It hurt too much, all over. I wanted someone to kill me. I wanted someone to go out and beat a junkie to death for whatever he had on him and give it to me. I screamed and screamed. I screamed when people touched me. I screamed when they didn't.

I was terrified. Something felt wrong. All I could think of was that she had a very large ear or something. Something wasn't right. I was so scared of what that meant. I was scared I was breaking. I was ashamed at my lack of composure. I was sorry for the anesthesiologist who was probably being paged for everyone within hearing distance of my room.

Finally I reached down, and felt 2/3 of my daughters head, and knew it was time. I don't know how long she was like that...half born. Hours, minutes. I finally gathered my courage, and she was born in the next push...there wasn 't even time for anyone to catch her. She was born, exactle 1 hour and 3 minutes after the mw said I was six cms. She was born head AND fist first. I think that's why it felt wrong. That's why my hips hurt. That's why I thought she had an ear the size of a second head. It was her hand and arm, preventing her for sliding and moulding to me smoothly.

We were told through our pregnancy that she had a 2 vessle cord, and the chances of low birth weight, kidney problems and skeletal problems were higher. My daughter was born, and she wasn't tiny. She was 7lbs 13 oz, with a full head of hair, and a loud voice. She was alert. Watching me. I felt like death. Bone weary, hurt. But I was floating...with her I was floating. She was beatiful. She was new. Not her sister. She didn't look like her, she didn't look like me. She didn't fit in the sleeper I got for her. It looked like a sack on her. The hat didn't fit either.

Looking at her, and exhausted as I was, i wasn't really forming coherant thoughts. Just words buzzed by, moving to fast to be expanded on. Beautiful. Small. Loud. Ouch. Hungry. Cold. Tired. BEATIFUL. I was falling in love.

I had a quick shower. I got dressed. We left two hours after my daughter was born. We named her Marlee (my husband and I combined our names Mark and Lee) Josephine (my father is Joseph) Malynn (pronounced MAYLYNN, a combination of my mother and mother-in-laws names). We got in the car, and drove home. At the half way point, I needed to pee in a bad way, and he needed food and a coffee. I went in and walked, slowly and carefully to the bathroom. I tried very hard not to pass out. Between blood loss, birth and lack of sleep, I think I could have easily done so. I must have looked awful.

We got home around 1 am. We were both too tired to get the seat out of the car, so we just carried the baby in without it. Mark sat on the couch and held her and silent tears made shiny tracks on his cheeks. I ate my second sticky bun and two tea biscuits and jam. I ran out of breath and got all shaky walking to the kitchen. I went to the bathroom and tried to clean myself up a little bit. It was a lost cause. We held the baby for a while, both too tired to go to bed, too emotionally tired, too physically tired. Both burned out. Both too content.

Eventually we made it upstairs. We tried to put Marlee in a moses basket. She didn't like it. She

didn't like to be anywhere besides with me or her dad. So that's what we did. Were too tired to fight, even with a new born.

Those first two days passed so fast. I barely remember them. The midwives came to the house a few times to check her. All good. She was fine. The heel prick was terrible, she cried and cried. She wouldn't take a soother, she couldn't find her thumb. I became her pacifier. Within a week, Mark had been temporarily relocated to the spare bed, Marlee too up his place beside me. It was the only place she would sleep.

Within two weeks, we had come to the conclusion that 1) Newborns are not fun and 2) Marlee was particularly unhappy. NO colic, just yelling, not sleeping, screaming. Messy. I think I teetered on the balance of a normal sleep deprived newly delivered mother and post partum. My family rallied, taking my 4 year old out often. I didn't always nap, sometimes I just sat and stared into space and dreamed of a time that a baby didn't yell at me.

Marlee was insatiable. Always hungry. I could literally spend my whole day with her on and off the boob for hours at a time. It was brutal. OMG the chapping. BRUTAL. Toe curling pain. In time that passed, and days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, Marlee was smiling at me. Not very often, she mostly still yelled. But she did smile. I was recharged, I could handle a few more days. A few more days turned into two months. Now, only just, Marlee finally sleeps in her own crib. Mark has taken his spot back in the bed. She chatters, she puts herself to sleep. She does take a bottle, because quite simply I haven't the time to nurse her for four hours at a time. She would just happily live on my boob... She flirts and sings and talks to them. It's quite cute.

Her nightly freakshow seems to have passed, she's actually quite enjoyable. I am ashamed to say I am surprised.

And the changes will continue daily for her. From smiles to laughs, rolling over to sitting up, standing, walking and talking. I know every day will be new with her for a while. I just hope she won't grow up too fast.

And the changes in life continue. My baby isn't THE baby anymore. She's the big sister. A whole new identity. Not only is she insistant on making an imprint on her baby sister, but she's sort of given us two choices, the easy way or the hard way. She's very gentle, but smothering. Marlee takes it in her kind of stride, meaning she puts up with it for very short periods of time before shrieking her head off. Accordingly, Faith goes at her in short but frequent bursts in her dislike for the noise. They have an understanding I guess.

Faith also asserts her desire to be treated as a person who has assended the ranks so to speak. She's got the smug face of one who knows, that some day, not very far away...Faith will finally be the boss of someone. I have no doubt she's already making cookie snatching plans. Poor Marlee. She's gonna have to be heartless to resist her...and I've recently decided that she maybe does have a heart after all.

Mark and I have changed too. Our relationship is closer than it once was, and also a little less connected for the time being. I trust him now more than I did before, more than I ever thought I would or could. He is my best friend, my confidant, he is who I lean on when I have nothing left. I depend on him daily, and he has never failed me. Our relationship is strong enough to endure this sconnection, and it will pass when we sleep more than three hours at a time, when our whole day is not spent meeting constant needs for our children.

And so, even though I feel as though I am caught in a tornado and my world is just flying around in front of me, breaking up in the force of the winds, I am happy. I am happier than I have ever been. I have everything I have ever wanted in life, and there is nothing I would trade it for. There is nothing I would change.

Life is good.

di

For and Against

I am for naps.
I am against ass hats that can't drive and continually find themselves behind the wheel of a car.
I am against finicky change machines
I am for slushies
I am against alarm clocks
I am for being on time
I am against cash cow companies
I am for fuel efficient cars
I am against pricing environment conscious products higher than the average family can afford.
I am for living off the grid
I am against family court
I am for reading to children
I am against spanking
I am for spanking
I am against slot machines
I am for buffets of any kind
I am against cell phones
I am for comfortable clothes
I am against unnecessary c-sections
I am for pot
I am against dieting
I am for continuing education
I am against life stagnancy
I am for parenting on demand
I am against parenting on schedule
I am for over indulging on chinese
I am against people who block entire aisles in grocery stores
Despite thorough annoyance, I am for grocery stores making you pay for plastic bags
I am against stores not having recycled paper bags for free
I am for go carts
I am against mcdonalds
I am for paintballing
I am against guns
I am for H1N1 vaccine, though I am normally against the flu shot
I am against fighting
I am for stimulating discussions and disagreements
I am against mowing the lawn
I am for giving my husband cold water to drink while HE mows the lawn
I am against the asshat who doesn't use his blinker
I am for occasionally being THAT asshat myself
I am against my daughters teacher
I am for healthy snacks for children
I am against viagra commercials
I am for dr. phil
I am against clowns

My baby turned five...

Today my baby turned five. A great accomplishment. By todays standard, it is a great accomplishment. My daughter has made it to age five without ever once having a major meltdown in a public place. She is not that child screaming and hitting her mother with a brick of cheese. She is not the child that cries and makes like a wet noodle. I have not had to football carry her out of any place. We have made it to five years, without one swear word leaving her mouth. We have made it to five years without spanking. My daughter has managed at age five, to use the toilette consistently, and she even wipes! She has almost learned to tie her shoes. She prints quite well for a lefty. She is not a bully, though I will admit she leads with great enthusiasm. She shares most of the time. Bedtime is not an issue. She can tell time, sort of (meaning, she knows at which times she may NOT get up, but frequently claims confusion well enought to mostly pull it off). She makes her own breakfast and pours her own milk. She holds hands across streets, but asks to do it alone sometimes. She is willing to try new foods, but almost always claims she hates it. She asks before she pets a strange dog. She uses her manners, most of the time. She is gentle, and kind. She helps her grandmother. She is mischevious enough to lie, but too honest not to tell on herself. She has more good days than bad. She REALLY marches to the beat of her own drum, and though usually tries hard to conform, she occasionally bursts out in nonstop chatter. She is sensitive, and caring (she makes little homes for bugs, names them and sleeps with the containers. We currently are in mourning for a nasty catterpillar named sparkle diamond and become proud frieds of a hairy one named diamond spikey). She expresses joy at some of the oddest times, which really lights up my life. Like today, on her fifth birthday, she looked out the window to see snow. Not the nice kind of snow. She big wet blobs. Not snow-snow. The kind of snow that is a warning. Like the notice you get before they reposess your car. "The snow-snow is gonna kick your ass". Then you get that feeling. You can feel hopeless dragging at you...you feel the pull to go inside and eat a lot of cake and then hybernate. Then Faith says "mommy it's snowing on my birthday!" and you say it with such joy. Like winning the lottery or something. I think she's the only kid that can make the crappiest stuff not crappy.

I can't help but reflect on the years past. I look around my home filled with you. Bits of your stuff draped over something, toys here and there, games crammed in the shelf, shoes on opposite sides of the closet. Bits of your supper on your tray, and juice box container stashed somewhere. A sticky spot on the floor. Fingerprints on the TV, tiny barbie pieces here and there, the plastic casing to your juicebox straw fluttering around my feet, hard to see in the dim light. Your art is on the fridge, your dishes on the counter. You are an explosion, like a little shooting star through my life. Everywhere you go, you explode in directions all round you, leaving bits of clutter and memories behind you. You've shot through my life with a light so bright, and a force so strong that my world swung of it's axis.

Everything is right with you in my life. I have no idea who I was and what I did for fun before you were born. You've impoved everything I am, just by breathing. I will never forget the way it felt to hold you when you were all new and floppy. When your breath felt like angel wings on my cheek. I will never forget what it felt like to watch you smile at me, how I hurt for you when you were cutting teeth, how I used to sneek into your room and climb in bed beside you when you were two...and I would have the best sleep. I will never forget how happy you were to get an xray, how you smiled, even though you had a broken bone. There are a million moments that I will never forget. You are pretty much everything to me.

I hope turning five is everything you dreamed it would be. I can't wait for another million things I'll never forget.

I love you my baby. For always, forever.

I am...(writing exercise)

If you want to do this one yourself, copy these words down and finish it off yourself. Mine are below.

I am the one who
I admit I am
I have chosen
I may never
When I check inside
I believe in
I pay attention to
I want to be remembered for
I have never been
I am still learning
I am


I am the one who never stands out in a crowd and is easily forgotten. I am the one who blends into the wallpaper. I am the one who is non confrontational and non assertive. I am the one who is frequently misunderstood and misjudged. I am the one who is constantly overlooked...except for the few people who take the time too look deeper. To them, I mean the world.

I admit I am accomplished at building walls and barriers to keep the world away. I've learned that it's less painful to walk the world alone than it is to trust people. Sometimes I'm afraid I've gotten so good at it, I don't know how to take them back down.

I have chosen to take the path less traveled. It's probably more appropriate to say I have chosen to make my own path through mangroves and over mountains. My husband says I wrestle giants alone...my mother says I do everything the hard way. On the other hand, I value everything I've accomplished for myself because I know exactly the price I paid for it.

I may never forgive myself for my biggest mistakes with my daughter. In an effort to give her everything she deserves, I cost her a very great deal. Forgiving myself is a daily struggle, and some days I fail and some I succeed. I am gratified to see by her beautiful smile and laughter, by the way she makes everyone love her...that the good outweighs the bad. But I've never been able to go a day without being so sorry for the losses I have caused her. I have never been more sorry that it is her that pays for my mistakes.

When I check inside I am proud of what I see. Over the last two years, I have changed alot of the darkness to light. I have healed old wounds so there is nothing left but faint scars. I have let go of old pains. I have calmed the chaos.

I believe in myself. I have walked through fire to be where and who I am. I have carried burdens I never should have had to. I have faced down monsters with bare hands and no protection. I have given up everything, to gain freedom. I have made sacrifices. I have been alone in the darkness. I have lost people I love. I have faced down my fears. I have come out the other side of depression. My greatest accomplishment, is that I am a good mother.

I pay attention to my children and my family and what concerns them. I have learned that the people I love, and the people who truely love me, are the only things that really really matter. The people who have been and will continue to be there for me, who don't judge me, who accept me for all that I am and all that I'm not, who don't try to change me, who stand beside me, who catch me when I fall, who's love is so unconditional...these are the only things I can't live without.

I want to be remembered for my devotion to my children. If at the end of my life, whenever that is, the only thing people can say about me is that I was a good mother, then I find that I can live with that. I believe that my children are the only thing I'll really leave behind. They are another page in a story that goes back so far, names are forgotten. In them are the pieces of generations behind me, tales of love and hardship, sacrifice...Pieces of my mother and father, my husband, my grandparents. I want the love I feel for my children to resonate in the bones of their children, just as the love my grandmother had for me resonates in mine. I want to write in bold on the pages of my childrens lives. When my children leave my home, I want to know that they will be a possitive force as they move through the world.

I have never been very good at saying no. I am a yes woman. If you ask me for something, I will probably say yes, even if I don't have it to give, because I don't like to say no. Ever. Sometimes I am disapointed that people continue to ask me for favors when I am tapped dry, and I wish that they would just realize that I can't always do it.

I am still learning to accept myself as I am. Some days it's harder than others.

I am your regular average everyday girl.

New discoveries, and old discoveries made new

After bringing home a brand new smack out of the box baby (excuse the pun) I have realized that there is so much about being a parent that I totally forgot about. I have spent a lot of time this past week being really surprised.





Like, I've just relearned how nice it feels to be clean when you're a slimy grub. I forgot about how having a new born in the house means you can't just have a shower any time you feel like it. If I had remembered that, I probably wouldn't have taken my last hot bath for granted.





I've also learned that the term "tired" is really subjective. Tired before pregnancy, birth and new parenthood is really incomparable to tired now. Today, when I say I'm tired, what I mean is my legs are shaking and my back aches. It means that if just ONE thing goes wrong, I'll probably cry. It means that if I were to sleep for an hour, I would still wake up tired. Tired now means that I would trade in meals and soap for that hour. It means that it feels like there's sand in my eyes, and lead weights dragging my eyelids and feet down. I would just love to be the kind of tired I was 10 months ago. Oh yes, I certainly forgot about being tired.





I forgot about how small babies are. And it seems that in the eight hours I was away from home having a baby, I forgot how big my almost five year old was. She seems infinately taller, and heavier, and OLDER. After snuggling my newest, I crept into my oldests room while she was sleeping, to check on her. I was astounded at the amount of leg hanging out of the bed, and how big the foot was on the end of said leg. Then I saw her hands which seemed so big, compared to the tiny fingers that were so recently gripping my own pinky. After staring at the creasy red wrinkled face, with swollen eyes and fuzzy hair of my new born, I was struck by the lack of baby fat on my older daughters face. When did she stop looking like a little girl? When did she stop BEING a little girl? And how did I miss it?





I thought I forgot how good it feels to cuddle a new born baby girl...but I didn't. It feels about the same as it does to cuddle my five year old, surprisingly. It feels like you could sleep in total peace, with the knowledge that all is right with the world because what's most precious to you is safe in your arms. A snuggle with my newest has the same sweet innocent joy as a snuggle with the older...just one sits still for it indefinitely, where the other does it half the time just to amuse me.





I've learned that my body and mind are more capable than I ever imagined before. Natural childbirth is not for the faint of heart. There are memories that I will treasure to the day I die, and some that I seriously hope will fade with time. I've learned that my husband is stronger and more dependable than any man I've ever known. I will never forget the hours he spent kneeling on cold hard bathroom tiles in the hospital while I squeezed his hand like I meant to liquefy his bones. I will never forget how he fought for me when I couldn't make words. Through tears and screams, he stood by me, supported me and never left me. If the only memories I had of my birth experience were my first sight of Marlee, her first cry, and his constant presence, I would feel blessed like one who has seen and believed something holy.



I forgot how good it feels to take a really good pee. It seems that the inside of my bathroom has become overly familiar over the course of the pregnancy, and lumbering out of bed four times a night feeling like flood gates are going to open and wash the house away, only to make it to the bathroom and have a piss that MIGHT fill up a shot glass has been frustrating. I forgot how nice it feels not to have someone stepping on my bladder, and to be able to stand up and say with conviction "I have to pee". Pregnant people can never say that with conviction.



I have rediscovered my feet. And they really ARE feet. They don't look like flesh colored gumby extensions...or feet shaped balloons filled with jello, or playdough. I have visible bones in my feet. And they don't feel like they are on fire anymore. They don't hurt to walk on. I don't feel the need to stand on my basement floor for the relief the cold concrete gave, nor do I need to sit in a cool bath. I will never take my feet for granted again.



I have rediscovered food again. I can drink a glass of milk without feeling like I have fire in my throat, and I can eat pizza without wishing I could just die. Gaviscon is not my constant companion. Food does not disgust me. Eggs and meat do not repulse me anymore. Today I ate a sausage at supper time...and I didn't spend the whole meal trying to convince my stomach that what I'm eating is in fact potato chips, NOT MEAT. I had a glass of juice, and it hasn't come back to haunt me.



Pregnancy may be beautiful, and it may be a miracle. There may be much joy found in the knowledge that your little one is safe and secure, resting under your heart. But it feels damn good when it's over.

I just don't understand.

Given that I can no longer go for a walk, garden, take a bath without feeling like I am just sitting in a puddle, or get off the couch without having a huge hissy fit because the back of my lay-z-boy chair got stuck on the chair rail and I couldn't get out....I have had a lot of time to ponder. I have questions, and I wonder...

So the first major blank I came to is this: Who the *^#O cares about John Gosslin? Why does having six babies make you that important?. Ok wait, having one baby is a miracle, having six is a death sentence but a pretty amazing one. But he didn't even HAVE them. He provided swimmers. Who cares who he dates? Why are women swarming him? He's a thirtysomething dude, who still wears band shirts, left his wife and 8 children and immediately sailed off with someone new...and if the tabloids are correct...she's the daughter of the dude that gave his wife a tummy tuck. Who t f cares about him or his girlfriends (who seem to be two psychopaths fighting over a middleaged weirdo)...
It's not like I'm resurecting the whole "team jennifer/angelina" bullshit. I don't have a pink tshirt with "team kate" on it, and I am not hiding behind bushes waiting to jump the first man wearing a "team john" shirt, yell sexist pig and then hit him with something. I genuinely don't care about either one of them. She yelled incessantly, he whined constantly...they picked on eachother daily...at least half of their children were crying at any given moment. I just wonder...why do they matter so much.

My second wonder- cell phones. What is the deal with cell phones. I phones. Blackberry's. God knows what else. Mark and I both agree that having cell phones is probably a good idea. So we decide to get them. Do you have any freaking idea how hard it is to just get a phone? So off I go shopping. They ask me-do I want this one, it has a full querty keyboard (what is querty? and if it doesn't have a querty keyboard, what does it have?) and I say no, I don't want to send emails from my phone...or whatever. Do I want a walkie talkie? ok, that was like 1980...or something. I don't want old shit on my phone. I don't want morse code either...if that's an option. Do I want an mp3 player? no...I don't want a radio...or a tv...or anything else. I want a phone. Just a phone. With numbers...and a speaker so that I can hear a voice talking to me, and a mic that I can talk into. I would like my phone to ring...just ring. Not play the theme song to fraggle rock, or whinney the pooh...or anything else. Just ring. you know? ring ring...a PHONE. DO I want to text? no. Do they have just a phone? no. apparently there is no such thing as JUST a phone. sigh. what happened to us?

I feel like some really old geezer wheezing at the kids "when I was your age...we walked to school! Bare feet! In the snow! Uphill! Both ways! AND WE DIDN'T have a go-go-gadget phone!
But seriously. What DID happen? When did we stop using a phone to call eachother? When did we start needing a machine to do EVERYTHING for us? We can't read maps, we need GPS. We can't make a call...we need to text message. We can't hand our kids a quarter and tell them to call us when they need to be picked up...NOOOOOOOO, we need to hand them a phone, that isn't a phone...and then wonder why they're sending pictures of themselves naked to who knows who, who knows where....
our phones must be able to browse, receive email, and make a sandwitch. We must all turn into zombies and walk around public places with our heads down and our thumbs poised over our phones bashing into eachother. We must be connected. All the TIME. To everyone, everywhere. We must make it easy for everyone to reach us, and then we must pass that on to our teenaged sons and daughters, and make it easy for them to be reached...all the time. Three 16 year old girls do NOT need to walk down the street beside eachother, texting. Seriously people, we are going to evolve without voice boxes and very very strong thumbs.
I will admit, cell phones to give a measure of safety. I am all for providing my daughter with a phone, so that she can call 911 and say "some weird dude is following me, can I get some help?" She doesn't need all you can text/email/browse/or eat. Neither do I...chances are...neither do YOU. Our kids will probably need social skills though. I know some of you guys could use some too...
What are they going to do...grow up and get jobs and forget how to talk. How to communicate effectively. How to say anything without popping an lol or a rofl...or anything else at the end? WIll they grow up to be doctors and lawyers...and waitresses, and garbagemen...and be silent. And when pedophiles, and dealers...and really bad dudes reach out and touch our daughters and sons because technology makes it easy, then what? I just don't understand.
People call me old...at 27...or 28 or however old I am. I'm not old. I just don't say baaaaaaa. Sometime around the age of 19 or 20 I stopped trying to be cool...and get cool stuff. I don't want something because you have it. I don't want it because it's new. I don't want it because everyone else has it. I don't care if it's top of the line, or how much it costs, or all the shit it can do that I don't need.

that's that for now...I actually have a lot more to say...but my kid is hungry.

Some of Faiths funniest quotes

Trying Desperately hard to get her grandmothers attention, bouncing up and down like a demendted child holding a naked barbie bent at a 90 degree angle
Faith: Underwear! Underwear!
Me to mother: So I went to Walmart today to get some really-
Faith: Underwear! Underwear!
Me to mother: sheets. They were on a really great sale and the pockets actually fit my-
Faith: Underwear! Underwear!
Me to mother: nevermind
Faith:underwear! underwear! (We try to ignore interuptions, in an effort to teach manners and timing...obviously not successful in this area)
Mom sounding resigned: She's not wearing any underwear...
Faith: Yes she is! See how they're bumpy? That's her underwear...
Mom: No, that's how bums are!
Faith: Gramma! Feel that! Does that feel like butt?
Mom: Feel your bum...they're all bumpy..
Faith sounding paranoid: MOM! is my bum bumpy?
--age 5

Faith to Mark: You would be as handsome as prince charming if you shaved off your mustache...but you're pretty hairy. You could be the beast...
Age 5

Mom, did you know stars are born out of a BLEBULOUS? (nebulous)

Age 4, after watching discovery kids.



While pretending there is a volcano in the bathroom "look out mom! it eruffted!"

age 4, another discover kids show



While upstairs in her room I hear all of her soothers hit the floor (they were kept in a box on a shelf in her closet during the day) and I call up the stairs "what was that noise?" I hear a muffled Faith say "um...I had an accident" and I say "what kind of accident?" (I have a pretty good idea already but I'll play this out) faith says "um...a sucky accident." and I say "is there one in your mouth" and she says "ya, that was the accident"
aged 2

Mark and Faith are in the car, driving to school in winter. Faith is pretending she is batgirl. The car spins out and bumps into a snowbank. Faith says "uh, Marky...maybe batman should drive"
aged 3

When asked what she would like to name the baby in my tummy, Faith responded: " if it's a boy- April...if it's a girl- Diamond. Aged 4

I've come to the conclusion

I have come to a strange and startling conclusion. Or maybe even an epiphany...but probably not quite that good. Anyways...lately it seems as though my brain is split into two brains. OK, I seriously MENTIONED that this was not as good as an epiphany...anyways. Like I was saying, where once there was only one brain, now it SEEMS as though there are two.

Brain number one is completely logical but with no emotion, I can only assume that brain number two is everything BUT logic. So this is how that works....

I'm going about my regular day today and having this weird conversation in my head. It went sort of like this.

Brain #2: I'm thirty eight weeks pregnant! (That would be in happy tones of thought)
Brain #1: WTF? When did THAT happen (shocked/calculating tone of thought...kind of like doing period math when you're late...only WAY more frantic)
Brain #2: Remembers how excited I was about having Faith and bringing her home
Brain #1: Ya, that was before you REALLY knew what it was like to be a mother. FOREVER.
Brain #2: Total blank (literally, ZERO function at this point) and then a small voice (It can't be brain #3 can it?) saying "oh shit, that's a bad sign".


And things sort of went downhill from there.

Honestly, it's not that I'm NOT happy to be having my second child. It just seemed like such a great idea...but a large portion of my brain seems to have shut off between the day I decided baby number two would be a good idea, and today...where baby number two is going to be along any time. That part of my brain seems to have woken up with a vengeance...bleary, cranky and seriously pissed at the loss of time...like a drunk just come out of the worlds worst bender that's lost track of months...and months. That part of my brain (it's quite pessimistic) keeps asking me questions like "you realize that now you are going to have TWO small people in the house? They'll be there, making NOISE forever..." and "you know it'll be another FIVE years before you are able to consistently say you slept well last night"? and "you have just spent approximately ONE year with the ability to go out WITHOUT worrying about your kid, and you're signing up for another FOUR years?

Suddenly I've just remembered all of this things that made life really really really sucky. Yes kids are wonderful, they make you laugh every day...etc etc. I am thrilled, can't wait to meet her. (I did tell you specifically that there were TWO brains right?) Well suffice it to say that Brain #2 is completely appaled at Brain #1. And I'm not QUITE sure, but I think brain #1 might be ashamed of itself too...but that's hard to say.

All the same...part of me eagerly anticipates the arrival of our newest daughter...and the fact that I will not be pregnant any more. The other part of me is screaming "labour? what do you mean labour?!? This can't be happening again!"

Is any of this normal?

Some shit that made me giggle when I read it

This is a compilation of some really funny shit overheard by random people in New York City. Makes me think a visit would be SO fun.



a middle-aged, not badly-dressed man in jeans and a polo emerges from an alleyway wearing a sunhat with large fake flowers sprouting from it and says to my mom and me walking by, "So, I'm thinking of becoming a lesbian."



13-year-old girl on phone: That's right, I lost my virginity...looks like someone owes me a soda.



Guy #1: ...and he just kept chewing and chewing. Man, I felt so bad.

Guy #2: Dude, why did you give a Twizzler to a giraffe?



Teen girl #1: Wait, so you just let him do you in the butt? You let him sodomize you?

Teen girl #2: It wasn't bad. I couldn't shit for a few days, though. So I took some laxatives, then I shit myself in the mall yesterday.



NJ mom on cell with son #1: Anthony! Anthony, It's Mamma. Stop crying right now. It's okay, honey. It's going to stop hurting in two minutes. Jesus, with the sobbing already! Put your brother on.NJ mom on cell with son #2: I want you to stop doing that thing to your brother. If you make him cry again I'm going to make you cry. Do you hear me? Don't play stupid with me. I get enough of that from it your father. What? Put him on... Stop laughing... Put Daddy on the phone or so help me Jesus...NJ mom on phone with the father : Jerkoff, what the fuck is going on over there? I leave the house for five goddamm minutes and you are all flicking each other's balls again... Stop fucking laughing. You are going to make them retarded or gay or something!

Mother with little girl: Excuse me. My daughter wants to know if you're a pirate.
Woman wearing bandana: No. I'm just a lesbian.

Little girl, pointing to grab holds: Look, Dad, monkey bars!
Little boy: I wanna play on the pole! No, you can't too, this is my pole!
Dad: Bobby, everyone can play on the pole!
Little girl: Bobby, go back to your pole!
Little boy: Fine! Look, Dad, I'm a pole dancer!

Chick, screaming into cell: What a bitch! I swear, it's getting harder and harder to fuck your co-worker and get away without people finding out!

Male student #1: Your sister has the best tasting punani in New York.
Male student #2: I'll pay for lunch if you promise not to say that again.

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com