After a productive day at work, I picked up the only child who was at school today. We went and got groceries. I arrived home to find I had 2 extra boys at our house and Nicki had a friend coming over. The boys as it turned out weren't staying for supper. So I enlisted the help of children to make supper as I had to get Noah to Dynasty volleyball (he has literally been asking every day since last year, "when is Dynasty mom.") We made homemade meatballs stuffed with cheese. Many hands make light work. I continued making the rest of dinner myself.
The drainage system in the laundry room appeared to be having issues and the cleaning lady was unable to do laundry because water was not going down the drain, from the washer but back up and onto the laundry room floor.
Bob came home after a busy day at work. He came out of the bathroom after powdering his nose and said, "Whose ass is bigger yours or mine?" It took a second for me to pick my jaw up off the floor and a minute to quite laughing. He couldn't understand how I found that question funny, or the fact that it was a husband daring to ask his wife. He was just curious. I assured him that I thought mine was bigger. He asked what size pants I wear and I told him they are measured by the waist not the ass. So my waist is smaller because I am an hour glass shape. He said, "Well what am I?" So I told him he is an inverted pear. Wide at the shoulders, narrowing down to his hips.
So I was just curious. Has any man ever asked you that?
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
On compliments, self esteem and English as a second language.
I must preface this entry by telling you that I love my husband. Just tonight as we were sitting together on the couch he told me how good I looked. He is thoughtful, affectionate, cooks dinner for me and compliments me often among other things.
That being said, I have to say that occasionally the fact that English is his second language makes for some amusing backwards compliments,which I have had to explain to him aren't really compliments.
Let us start with our first trip to Vegas. We were contemplating checking out the pool at our hotel. It was a bit of a trek to the pool from our room and eventhough I did see a few people walking through this enormous hotel (the MGM Grand) in their swimsuits, I was a little apprehensive about doing same. When I mentioned to Bob that I didn't know if I should wear my swimsuit down to the pool, he lovingly paid me what he thought was a compliment and said, "Go ahead, I've seen worse." I am laughing out loud as I type this. He was trying to tell me I looked good and go for it,but that's not exactly how it came out. He has yet to live that one down.
On another cozy evening when we were sitting on the couch, I lazily had my legs draped across his lap. When you read the word "draped"you should envision lean, long, tanned (shaved) legs. (Insert LOL here). He gently placed his hand on the exposed skin between the top of my rainbow striped ankle socks and my pants. He stared lovingly into my eyes and said "Do all the women in your family have thick ankles?" I tried to explain to him that in no way shape or form could that comment be interpreted as any sort of compliment. Again, I am laughing out loud as I type. To my dear cousins and aunties, I assured him, no I am the only one.
Now being in my early (ahem) 40s, I spend a bit more time in front of the mirror, you know "suffering" as my mother taught me. (See previous blog entry). Each morning I get up at about 5:50am and I spend about an hour or so getting ready. That is the time I give to myself each day. The rest of the day, my time is given to others. I will not give up this "me time" and I think Dr. Phil would commend me for this. He would probably tell me I should be taking more me time (right Sherry?), but he doesn't live in my shoes or my house. So here is how the next compliment goes....
She gazed into the mirror. Her shoulder length hair was meticulously straightened and glistened in the light from the lightbulb that sticks out of the wall in her bathroom. She swung her hair from side to side and was happy with how it fell. Her mascara-covered eyelashes were water-proofed and had no clumps. No spider eyes will ever be criticized on these baby-browns. No line of makeup along her jawline from her carefully applied foundation and her lipgloss glistened on her lips. She pulled open her underwear drawer and pulled out a pretty bra and panty set she bought at La Senza. She gave up on the thongs. They literally had become a pain in the ass. Those buggers had a mind of their own and kept trying to head north. So a nice pair of matching bikini panties was the choice. She slipped out of her second hand bathrobe and into her pretty undies. She heads into the walk in closet to decide what garments might best hide her 40 something lumps and bumps. As she is standing there she hears her husband come into the room. She adjusts her bra, pulls the bikini bottom out of the crack of her butt and sucks in her stomach trying to look 30 something. As her husband walks in he does a double take. He says in an astonished voice, "What's wrong with your leg????!!!!????" She looks down at her left leg and then her right and says, "What? What's wrong with my leg?" Still in an astonished voice he says, "That hole!!! What's that hole in your leg???" As she gazes down she catches sight of what has got him all stewed up. "Honey, that's fat. It's called cellulite." Insert more laughs here. And 4 years later, he has yet to live that down.
Yes, the "she" is me. I have been blessed with "holes" in my legs since I was young. Oh well. As previously mentioned, I repeatedly teach my boys, not to use the words moustache or fat in a sentence when you are talking to a girl. So Bob technically didn't break any of those rules, bless his heart. I laugh every time I repeat these words that fell from his poor francophone lips.
Ladies love your bodies. The years will not be kind. Gravity will do its thing. You've earned any wrinkles you have, hopefully by smiling instead of frowning. Don't take yourself too seriously. You are beautiful inside and out. Tell your daughters how beautiful they are and tell your sons how handsome they are too. Tell your husband he is sexy. It's always nice when others give our sagging self esteem a little boost. Tell your friends that you like their new hair cut or colour. That the outfit they are wearing looks excellent. I even pay compliments to strangers.
Today's compliment was as it should have been. Out of the blue and in the middle of a random conversation. It was sincere and I thanked him for it. Oh, did I forget to mention, he told me my boobs looked good too. ;)
That being said, I have to say that occasionally the fact that English is his second language makes for some amusing backwards compliments,which I have had to explain to him aren't really compliments.
Let us start with our first trip to Vegas. We were contemplating checking out the pool at our hotel. It was a bit of a trek to the pool from our room and eventhough I did see a few people walking through this enormous hotel (the MGM Grand) in their swimsuits, I was a little apprehensive about doing same. When I mentioned to Bob that I didn't know if I should wear my swimsuit down to the pool, he lovingly paid me what he thought was a compliment and said, "Go ahead, I've seen worse." I am laughing out loud as I type this. He was trying to tell me I looked good and go for it,but that's not exactly how it came out. He has yet to live that one down.
On another cozy evening when we were sitting on the couch, I lazily had my legs draped across his lap. When you read the word "draped"you should envision lean, long, tanned (shaved) legs. (Insert LOL here). He gently placed his hand on the exposed skin between the top of my rainbow striped ankle socks and my pants. He stared lovingly into my eyes and said "Do all the women in your family have thick ankles?" I tried to explain to him that in no way shape or form could that comment be interpreted as any sort of compliment. Again, I am laughing out loud as I type. To my dear cousins and aunties, I assured him, no I am the only one.
Now being in my early (ahem) 40s, I spend a bit more time in front of the mirror, you know "suffering" as my mother taught me. (See previous blog entry). Each morning I get up at about 5:50am and I spend about an hour or so getting ready. That is the time I give to myself each day. The rest of the day, my time is given to others. I will not give up this "me time" and I think Dr. Phil would commend me for this. He would probably tell me I should be taking more me time (right Sherry?), but he doesn't live in my shoes or my house. So here is how the next compliment goes....
She gazed into the mirror. Her shoulder length hair was meticulously straightened and glistened in the light from the lightbulb that sticks out of the wall in her bathroom. She swung her hair from side to side and was happy with how it fell. Her mascara-covered eyelashes were water-proofed and had no clumps. No spider eyes will ever be criticized on these baby-browns. No line of makeup along her jawline from her carefully applied foundation and her lipgloss glistened on her lips. She pulled open her underwear drawer and pulled out a pretty bra and panty set she bought at La Senza. She gave up on the thongs. They literally had become a pain in the ass. Those buggers had a mind of their own and kept trying to head north. So a nice pair of matching bikini panties was the choice. She slipped out of her second hand bathrobe and into her pretty undies. She heads into the walk in closet to decide what garments might best hide her 40 something lumps and bumps. As she is standing there she hears her husband come into the room. She adjusts her bra, pulls the bikini bottom out of the crack of her butt and sucks in her stomach trying to look 30 something. As her husband walks in he does a double take. He says in an astonished voice, "What's wrong with your leg????!!!!????" She looks down at her left leg and then her right and says, "What? What's wrong with my leg?" Still in an astonished voice he says, "That hole!!! What's that hole in your leg???" As she gazes down she catches sight of what has got him all stewed up. "Honey, that's fat. It's called cellulite." Insert more laughs here. And 4 years later, he has yet to live that down.
Yes, the "she" is me. I have been blessed with "holes" in my legs since I was young. Oh well. As previously mentioned, I repeatedly teach my boys, not to use the words moustache or fat in a sentence when you are talking to a girl. So Bob technically didn't break any of those rules, bless his heart. I laugh every time I repeat these words that fell from his poor francophone lips.
Ladies love your bodies. The years will not be kind. Gravity will do its thing. You've earned any wrinkles you have, hopefully by smiling instead of frowning. Don't take yourself too seriously. You are beautiful inside and out. Tell your daughters how beautiful they are and tell your sons how handsome they are too. Tell your husband he is sexy. It's always nice when others give our sagging self esteem a little boost. Tell your friends that you like their new hair cut or colour. That the outfit they are wearing looks excellent. I even pay compliments to strangers.
Today's compliment was as it should have been. Out of the blue and in the middle of a random conversation. It was sincere and I thanked him for it. Oh, did I forget to mention, he told me my boobs looked good too. ;)
Sunday, January 22, 2012
On Vanity
Every day I looked in the mirror this week, I was repeatedly confronted by the flashes of silver highlights peeking out at my roots. Those little silver buggers did not get the memo. They are not welcome on my head. I pay to have them replaced by brown ones, red ones and blond ones. My daughters received an illuminated, magnifying mirror for Christmas and I made the BIG mistake of peering into it. I do not recommend doing this because at this point I was also confronted by little dark hairs above my upper lip. My regular mirror is much more kind and does not enthusiastically show them to me. These ones above my lip are slow learners. They don't understand that dark hair is only welcome on my head. I have regularly plastered my upper lip with a fluffy white bleach concoction to lighten them up, but they still persist.
So after I dragged my butt out of bed this morning, I cracked open two boxes that stock my vanity. One magical little box will tame those nasty silver highlights. The other will lighten the dark ones above my lip. And I am quite a sight to see when I apply both at the same time. The first time I came downstairs with my hair in disarray with brown, wet roots and an upper lip that looked like I slipped when I was brushing my teeth, Bob literally gasped.
If I thought that silver hair and a dark moustache was attractive, life would be a lot simpler, however, I don't. I also don't like the extra hairs that thicken up my eyebrows or the one lone "horse hair" that grows to the right of my chin.
Growing up I always remember my mom telling me you have to "suffer" to look beautiful. This comes from one of the most naturally beautiful women you will ever meet. Suffering is an exaggeration. It's just more of an inconvenience to have to do some fine-tuning occassionally. Fine-tuning involves bleaching, plucking and dying and basically it all involves hair.
My mom's mom must have told her the same thing, because my beautiful little Portuguese vavo dyed her hair until the day she died. I don't know if this was at her daughters' insistence or her own, but I am betting it was her own. We always joke how every time she would look through a pile of pictures, she would always stop at any of herself, gaze admiringly and comment on how good she looked in the picture. I say this with much affection. Her hair never betrayed her age.
Now I have daughters of my own and as I hear my mother's voice coming from my mouth on occasion, I have encouraged them to fine-tune occasionally. To them that means brushing their hair, teeth and shaving their armpits. Being the athletes that they are, they are quite comfortable jumping out of the shower, throwing their wet hair into the dreaded Wilma Flintstone bun (drives us crazy), throwing on a pair of sweatpants (with the waistband rolled down) and a hoody. I envy how comfortable they are with their natural beauty. I do tell them regularly how naturally beautiful they are and to love their bodies. I try not to tell them what the years and having kids can do to your body. That would be cruel. There have been some mother-daughter lip bleaching sessions and eyebrow training, but when it comes to vanity, that ship has appeared to have sailed right now. And that is fine with me. (Gotta go rinse my hair now.)
So after I dragged my butt out of bed this morning, I cracked open two boxes that stock my vanity. One magical little box will tame those nasty silver highlights. The other will lighten the dark ones above my lip. And I am quite a sight to see when I apply both at the same time. The first time I came downstairs with my hair in disarray with brown, wet roots and an upper lip that looked like I slipped when I was brushing my teeth, Bob literally gasped.
If I thought that silver hair and a dark moustache was attractive, life would be a lot simpler, however, I don't. I also don't like the extra hairs that thicken up my eyebrows or the one lone "horse hair" that grows to the right of my chin.
Growing up I always remember my mom telling me you have to "suffer" to look beautiful. This comes from one of the most naturally beautiful women you will ever meet. Suffering is an exaggeration. It's just more of an inconvenience to have to do some fine-tuning occassionally. Fine-tuning involves bleaching, plucking and dying and basically it all involves hair.
My mom's mom must have told her the same thing, because my beautiful little Portuguese vavo dyed her hair until the day she died. I don't know if this was at her daughters' insistence or her own, but I am betting it was her own. We always joke how every time she would look through a pile of pictures, she would always stop at any of herself, gaze admiringly and comment on how good she looked in the picture. I say this with much affection. Her hair never betrayed her age.
Now I have daughters of my own and as I hear my mother's voice coming from my mouth on occasion, I have encouraged them to fine-tune occasionally. To them that means brushing their hair, teeth and shaving their armpits. Being the athletes that they are, they are quite comfortable jumping out of the shower, throwing their wet hair into the dreaded Wilma Flintstone bun (drives us crazy), throwing on a pair of sweatpants (with the waistband rolled down) and a hoody. I envy how comfortable they are with their natural beauty. I do tell them regularly how naturally beautiful they are and to love their bodies. I try not to tell them what the years and having kids can do to your body. That would be cruel. There have been some mother-daughter lip bleaching sessions and eyebrow training, but when it comes to vanity, that ship has appeared to have sailed right now. And that is fine with me. (Gotta go rinse my hair now.)
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Men remembering birthdays
This morning Jessica said, "dad doesn't know when my birthday is." This seemed to bother her and I assured her not to take it personally, but it is something men don't seem to worry about too much. (I am stereotyping here largely from my own experience.) It is also like how no men in our house can find anything in our fridge or a cupboard even if it falls out on their foot.
The whole remembering birthdays discussion reminded me of one of my birthdays years ago when my husband Nick remembered one of mine. He worked shift work at the mill, 6am-6pmish. One one particular birthday he arrived home from work, with roses in hand, and a beautiful card that contained gift certificates for a manicure and pedicure. I was blown away. Not totally that he remembered my birthday without too much reminding, but that he somehow found the time to get me such a nice gift.
A couple of weeks later we had to trade vehicles and I hopped into his truck. In my peripheral vision (note I worked in an eye doctor's office for 13 yrs) I saw a little white piece of paper that had some familiar writing on it. As I shift my gaze I took a better look at the paper.
Here is what it said: roses $, card $, gift certificates $. Written in MY SISTER'S VERY NEAT AND UNMISTAKEABLE HANDWRITTEN FONT, PRICELESS. So I called my beloved sister and she came clean. Don't recall how it all panned out, albeit it must have taken some coordination for the gift hand off, but I thanked her for getting it for me.
And here is the funnier part. Nick never paid any bills. I ran that part of the household. So I asked her if he had paid her yet. She said no. So a couple of days later I paid my sister for my birthday gift. I never said a word to Nick until what might have been months later.
It would turn out to be one of the gifts I would never ever forget. Bless his soul. :)
The whole remembering birthdays discussion reminded me of one of my birthdays years ago when my husband Nick remembered one of mine. He worked shift work at the mill, 6am-6pmish. One one particular birthday he arrived home from work, with roses in hand, and a beautiful card that contained gift certificates for a manicure and pedicure. I was blown away. Not totally that he remembered my birthday without too much reminding, but that he somehow found the time to get me such a nice gift.
A couple of weeks later we had to trade vehicles and I hopped into his truck. In my peripheral vision (note I worked in an eye doctor's office for 13 yrs) I saw a little white piece of paper that had some familiar writing on it. As I shift my gaze I took a better look at the paper.
Here is what it said: roses $, card $, gift certificates $. Written in MY SISTER'S VERY NEAT AND UNMISTAKEABLE HANDWRITTEN FONT, PRICELESS. So I called my beloved sister and she came clean. Don't recall how it all panned out, albeit it must have taken some coordination for the gift hand off, but I thanked her for getting it for me.
And here is the funnier part. Nick never paid any bills. I ran that part of the household. So I asked her if he had paid her yet. She said no. So a couple of days later I paid my sister for my birthday gift. I never said a word to Nick until what might have been months later.
It would turn out to be one of the gifts I would never ever forget. Bless his soul. :)
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Another day another dollar
Well the week ended with Friday the 13th. There was no ominous loomings during my day, although the night before I was working on my on-line computer course. I had posted what I felt was an excellent reflection on business and teaching. It took me about 20-25mins to compose it. It wasn't an assignment, just something you type up in a textbox and then post. I proofed it a couple of times and then hit the Post button to submit my amazing composition. And then...... my &())&%* rural internet kicked out. That or my router. I did swear out loud a couple of times. Because I am eternally optimistic I thought maybe it sent in the microseconds that lapsed before it kicked out. No such luck. So there I was at 11pm, wayyy after my bedtime, trying to re-write what I had done.
I do pride myself in not being a slow learner, so my second effort was done on word. I figured I would save it, and then cut and paste. Well the cut and paste isn't working for some reason, so I had to attach it. Cut and paste works at school, so I will have to see what the setting problem is on my laptop.
Friday saw the girls heading to Kenora for a volleyball tournament and Dominic heading to Thunder Bay for a basketball tournament. Josh had a wrestling tournament here, so that left Noah here with us.
And on a very happy note, my niece and her husband brought the first great grandchild into the world for Nick's mom. A beautiful baby girl. How could she be anything else. Look at the gene pool she comes from. No name or weight as I post this. Hope to find that out today. Dominic might have the opportunity between games for my brother-in-law to pick him up to go for a quick visit.
And away I go, heading into town to go watch some more intense wrestling.
I do pride myself in not being a slow learner, so my second effort was done on word. I figured I would save it, and then cut and paste. Well the cut and paste isn't working for some reason, so I had to attach it. Cut and paste works at school, so I will have to see what the setting problem is on my laptop.
Friday saw the girls heading to Kenora for a volleyball tournament and Dominic heading to Thunder Bay for a basketball tournament. Josh had a wrestling tournament here, so that left Noah here with us.
And on a very happy note, my niece and her husband brought the first great grandchild into the world for Nick's mom. A beautiful baby girl. How could she be anything else. Look at the gene pool she comes from. No name or weight as I post this. Hope to find that out today. Dominic might have the opportunity between games for my brother-in-law to pick him up to go for a quick visit.
And away I go, heading into town to go watch some more intense wrestling.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
So as we sat at the supper table last night, I realized until I had previously posted on here, that the Leon's towel was still in the garbage can. The bathroom garbage can doesn't see a lot of action compared to the kitchen one. So as I mentioned this, Jessica says, "I put the can in the hall because I couldn't stand the thought of it looking at my while I was in the bathroom." I said that I was just going to throw it out. I'm not going to deal with that mess ever. Then Bob pipes up and says, "Well we could put the towel in a box and ship it to Leon and say Hey you forgot something!" I must say I laughed out loud. The visual for that event would be priceless.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Adventures of our family in 2011
I thought I would start a blog a long time ago, and have had many crazy events come and go at our house, and failed to write them down. I share them with friends regularly and they chuckle and shake their heads in amusement at how our house is a little wacky at times. So as I am procrastinating I thought I would make a post.
Being that we have kids in our household, it is rare that I get to go anywhere on my own. I am usually running around taking kids to some sporting event or practice, or to a friend's house. When I do get out my cellphone never fails to ring with a child wanting me for something. So it has become a running joke withme and a couple of girlfriends who know my life well.
One evening this spring, I actually made a date to go out for dinner with these 2 particular girls. I left the kids with these words, "If the house is on fire do not call me. Call 911." (I still had to drop a child off at a friend's house on this trip to town. After an uninterrupted dinner we went over to Sharon's house for dessert. I had been gone just under 2 hours total, when my cell phone rang. The three of us looked at each other in amusement and I unwillingly answered the phone. It was my dear husband Bob. It is now 8:30pm on a Saturday evening. He sheepishly says, "Hi. Uhm when you come home could you stop somewhere and get the biggest bandaids you can find?" Of course I need to know what the heck has happened now. "What happened?!?" Sharon and Linda's eyes are glued to me in interest at this point. "Well Josh cut his leg." "Do you need these bandaids right away?" (remember 8:30 Saturday night, most stores that are open will be closing very shortly and my evening out would come to a grinding halt.) Bob says, "No it's okay right now, I've got him stitched up." Bob is trained to do such things, let me say. As I am asking him what happened, Sharon's daughter brings over her laptop and she is talking to our son Zack on facebook. He is posting pictures of the event as it unfolded. So Josh is seriously afraid of getting attacked by a wolf when he goes outside at night. We've never had one threaten us near our house or anything, but this is his fear. He is a big strapping boy and an avid hunter. So, while he and his dad were outside in the shop, Bob was on the phone and Josh takes hold of a big and I mean big knife that they were using for butchering deer. He is swinging the knife around like a sword basically, enacting what he would do if a wolf came in and attacked him. In the midst of the swinging, he stabbed himself in the thigh. About an inch deep and inch and a half long gash. He got his dad's attention with his bloody leg and told him what he did. So they cleared off the kitchen table and Josh laid down on it where his dad proceeded to stitch him up with his stitching kit. So as Bob is recounting this craziness to me over the phone, the three of us are looking at the live feed coming through facebook of the wound and its repair. Amid peals of laughter Sharon grabs a flower she had in a vase and hands it to me and says, "You win."
Christmas had its ups and downs this year. We had an extra child join us for a week over the holidays. Josh's friend Leon came for a visit from southern Ontario. Leon (name changed) visited us for an energy packed week last March break. This week was no different.
As previously there was a lot of yelling on a constant basis, not in anger, but in a comedic tone filled with swearing to make it more entertaining. On the second or third morning of Leon's visit he came out of his room with about a good 2 inch scrape on his cheek. I was rather shocked when I saw it as I would like to send him back to his family in one piece. He and Josh were fooling around basically and he hit the foot of the couch with his face. He informed me that the swelling from his eye and lip had gone down from the night before. As I usually do in my role as a mother, I admonished them and said not to play so rough. He could have lost some teeth (or an eye). Another late evening I had to go downstairs because I heard mention of trying to do a blue angel. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it is basically lighting the gas from your farts on fire. Before I could get down there, I hear whoops and peels of laughter. Josh had succeeded. Thankfully there were no third degree burns, and the house did not go up in flames, but as usual I admonished them for being stupid (pardon the use of the S word) and not to do it again. I was not going to take his singed butt to the emergency room in the middle of the night and have to explain why we were there.
On the last couple of days of Leon's visit he ended up with a stomach flu bug. It hit him at both ends unfortunately. During one of his visits to the bathroom, he was seated (to put it nicely) and then realized he had to throw up. Instead of using the garbage can that is right beside our royal throne, he grabs a bath towel and throws up in it. Afterwards, he rolled up the destroyed towel and put it in the garbage can. I was unaware he had done this until later in the day when Bob found it and told me. Needless to say, I left the towel in the garbage. Leon didn't tell anyone he had done this. He did tell us however, that he had never thrown up before. That would explain one or two things, but not why he didn't mention the destroyed towel.
I spent the week picking up after Leon. Phone, camera, ipod, clothes etc. Did some of his laundry during the course of the week. The day before he was leaving I asked him in the afternoon, to bring me any laundry he had and I would do it, so he could pack everything clean. He said, "No it's okay. I'll just get my mom to do it when I get home." I confirmed that he was sure, and that it was no problem as I always had a load of laundry on the go. No, it was okay.
At 10:20pm, way past my usual bedtime I might add, Leon comes to me and says, "I brought all of my laundry down." Bob and I looked at him, and I said "What laundry, and where were you bringing it?" He replies "My dirty laundry, I brought it downstairs to wash." Bob and I sat in disbelief as we do often with a house full of teens. I said "Leon, I asked you this afternoon to give me laundry! We aren't doing it now!" He said, "Well I can stay up and do it." I told him no and that he had missed the boat and we will just pack his stuff as is. I sat shaking my head as I often do. My youngest Noah mentioned that the dryer vent/hose had come off the back of the dryer. I filed this in my memory bank for tomorrow and headed to bed. Tomorrow was a busy day. Bob goes to work. Takes 2 kids with him to babysit for my sister. One goes to volleyball practice in the middle of the babysitting. The five kids and myself have dental appointments at 1pm. Leon wants to go to a store which is only open until noon and we have to be to the airport by 3:30. We live about 25 minutes from the airport. My nicely organized schedule to get everyone where they needed to be was set in my brain. I am 99% of the time always on time or early. I am OCD about punctuality. It disturbs me to be late for anything.
After showering and making sure everyone was up I ask Leon if he would like help packing. He had been concerned that he would be unable to pack the things he came with back where his mother had put them. He and Josh were starting to look at taking some of our luggage with him, but I said no. Unless his mother was a rocket scientist and it was a requirement in this case, I am sure we could pack his bag. It is at this point that he informs me that he still has some laundry in the dryer. I remember he had a couple of things in the last load I had done yesterday and I went down to retrieve them.
When I walked in the laundry room, it was like a steam bath in there. Then I remembered Noah telling me the dryer pipe was off. The dryer was running at this point. So I shut off the dryer, turned on the exhaust fan, pulled out the washer and dryer and reconnected things and put them back. I was an annoyed sweating mess at this point. Also keep in mind I am pre-menopausal and the hotflashes come on their own. I don't need any help. The kids (no names mentioned) had pulled out the dryer looking for pingpong balls. Another factor to annoy me.
I start wondering why the dryer is going. I open it up, and the load of clothes inside is very damp. I think to myself, the stuff I put in yesterday should be dry by now. Then I open the dryer again and as an intact, wrapped Livesavers mint candy falls out, I realize this is not the load I had put in, but a full load of all of Leon's clothes. As I start sifting through it, I see clothes that I know he has not worn this week and some of Josh's clothes. It is now 11:15am. I need to have this kid packed and get everyone ready to head to town. I go upstairs madder than a wet hen. (Jessica affectionately calls me Mother Hen). In my rant at 2 teenage boys I explained I need to get to town and now we have wet clothes in the dryer (which I ranted some more, should not be there as he had been told the night before!) I also added that I could tell he picked up every thing that had been on Josh's floor and basically threw it all in the dryer dirty or not. He acknowledged my motherly laundry knowledge. He said he could take the wet clothes in a bag home. I said no, that they would stink by the time he got there, and his mother would just have to wash them all over again. Time is a valuable commodity to me and there is no way I will waste mine or anyone else's unnecessarily. So at 12:15 the clothes were dry. As I opened the dryer door, 2 more luckily still wrapped candies fell out onto the floor. I threw everything into a laundry basket with the rest of his belongings and told him he could pack it all at my sister's. We were hitting the road.
The dentist visit saw 4 out of 5 children with cavities much to their dismay. We left with new toothbrushes in hand and appointments for 4 months later for filings. When we got back to my sister's, Leon was all packed. See it wasn't rocket science after all. He had a true sense of accomplishment. We get Leon to the airport and the plane even left 10 minutes early.
We ate dinner in town, which we rarely do and got home around 7:15. Two messages from Leon's mom were flashing on the answering machine. I called her back to let her know that he got on the plane and was on his way. During our conversation she told me that he was ADHD and that he had gone off the meds he had been taking THE WEEK BEFORE HE CAME TO SEE US!!! I sat in a bit of a bewildered state listening to her as Bob wondered what the heck she was telling me. It sure would have been nice to know this before hand. The yelling, wrestling, flu, laundry fiasco etc would all have been dealt with in a different manner. Possibly a more calmish manner.
Two days later I am throwing yet another load of laundry in. As I am sorting through one of the full baskets, I notice that the socks look clean and washed. I do the smell test. Yep, these are clean. As I dig through this basket I realize ALL OF IT IS CLEAN! Then the little light bulb goes off over my head. This is the load of laundry that Leon had taken out and threw in a basket amidst the dirty ones, so he could do his FORBIDDEN LOAD!!! At that point I wanted to strangle kid all over again. I pulled out the wrinkled shirts that I was not going to iron, and threw them back in for another tumble in the wash.
And that was the first half of my Christmas vacation. The rest was spent basically sleeping in until 9am, doing laundry, tidying on a daily basis, doing some school work and relaxing. No complaints there.
New Year's eve was spent at home with Sharon and her family, and Karen and Bill (all friends' names are changed :) We ate and played cards. Very enjoyable evening. I actually stayed up until midnight.
On another day as I drove home with my daughter Jessica, she was recalling a discussion about driving and hitting deer. We basically had said that if you swerve to miss a deer on the road, and wreck your vehicle, your insurance will say it is your fault. You can't prove the accident was due to a deer, because it got away. So basically speaking, you are better off to hit the deer with respect to insurance coverage, not obviously health or safety-wise. So this topic was rumbling around in her brain as we were driving. She turns to me and says, "You know how you were talking about how it is better to hit the deer for insurance?" Of course I replied, "Yes." She asked ever so innocently, "So does that apply to humans too?" These children catch me at a loss for words often. I did quickly tell her, that no you should swerve to miss humans regardless.
At dinner on another evening, we were commenting that the new year was going to be 2012. My husband says, "Isn't that when the world is going to end?" Daughter Nicole ponders this and asks her sister, "If there is no food left would you eat me? " She starts looking at her legs and says, "My legs are pretty strong, good for eating." Jessica says, " Your tongue is the strongest muscle in your body." So of course Nicki starts feeling her tongue. Keep in mind while this is going on, we are a hunting family. We eat what we hunt. The children know that we don't hunt or eat carnivores like wolves, foxes or coyotes. We eat omnivores and herbivores. You know the meat and veggie eaters. So once again the little light bulb goes off over Jessica's head. She promptly says, "So does that mean we will only eat the vegetarians?" Bob and I burst out laughing. "Yes Jessica, we will only eat vegetarians if the world runs out of food." The girls' phys-ed teacher does not eat meat, so I advised them, they could eat her first.
Well this is enough of my ramblings for today.
Being that we have kids in our household, it is rare that I get to go anywhere on my own. I am usually running around taking kids to some sporting event or practice, or to a friend's house. When I do get out my cellphone never fails to ring with a child wanting me for something. So it has become a running joke withme and a couple of girlfriends who know my life well.
One evening this spring, I actually made a date to go out for dinner with these 2 particular girls. I left the kids with these words, "If the house is on fire do not call me. Call 911." (I still had to drop a child off at a friend's house on this trip to town. After an uninterrupted dinner we went over to Sharon's house for dessert. I had been gone just under 2 hours total, when my cell phone rang. The three of us looked at each other in amusement and I unwillingly answered the phone. It was my dear husband Bob. It is now 8:30pm on a Saturday evening. He sheepishly says, "Hi. Uhm when you come home could you stop somewhere and get the biggest bandaids you can find?" Of course I need to know what the heck has happened now. "What happened?!?" Sharon and Linda's eyes are glued to me in interest at this point. "Well Josh cut his leg." "Do you need these bandaids right away?" (remember 8:30 Saturday night, most stores that are open will be closing very shortly and my evening out would come to a grinding halt.) Bob says, "No it's okay right now, I've got him stitched up." Bob is trained to do such things, let me say. As I am asking him what happened, Sharon's daughter brings over her laptop and she is talking to our son Zack on facebook. He is posting pictures of the event as it unfolded. So Josh is seriously afraid of getting attacked by a wolf when he goes outside at night. We've never had one threaten us near our house or anything, but this is his fear. He is a big strapping boy and an avid hunter. So, while he and his dad were outside in the shop, Bob was on the phone and Josh takes hold of a big and I mean big knife that they were using for butchering deer. He is swinging the knife around like a sword basically, enacting what he would do if a wolf came in and attacked him. In the midst of the swinging, he stabbed himself in the thigh. About an inch deep and inch and a half long gash. He got his dad's attention with his bloody leg and told him what he did. So they cleared off the kitchen table and Josh laid down on it where his dad proceeded to stitch him up with his stitching kit. So as Bob is recounting this craziness to me over the phone, the three of us are looking at the live feed coming through facebook of the wound and its repair. Amid peals of laughter Sharon grabs a flower she had in a vase and hands it to me and says, "You win."
Christmas had its ups and downs this year. We had an extra child join us for a week over the holidays. Josh's friend Leon came for a visit from southern Ontario. Leon (name changed) visited us for an energy packed week last March break. This week was no different.
As previously there was a lot of yelling on a constant basis, not in anger, but in a comedic tone filled with swearing to make it more entertaining. On the second or third morning of Leon's visit he came out of his room with about a good 2 inch scrape on his cheek. I was rather shocked when I saw it as I would like to send him back to his family in one piece. He and Josh were fooling around basically and he hit the foot of the couch with his face. He informed me that the swelling from his eye and lip had gone down from the night before. As I usually do in my role as a mother, I admonished them and said not to play so rough. He could have lost some teeth (or an eye). Another late evening I had to go downstairs because I heard mention of trying to do a blue angel. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it is basically lighting the gas from your farts on fire. Before I could get down there, I hear whoops and peels of laughter. Josh had succeeded. Thankfully there were no third degree burns, and the house did not go up in flames, but as usual I admonished them for being stupid (pardon the use of the S word) and not to do it again. I was not going to take his singed butt to the emergency room in the middle of the night and have to explain why we were there.
On the last couple of days of Leon's visit he ended up with a stomach flu bug. It hit him at both ends unfortunately. During one of his visits to the bathroom, he was seated (to put it nicely) and then realized he had to throw up. Instead of using the garbage can that is right beside our royal throne, he grabs a bath towel and throws up in it. Afterwards, he rolled up the destroyed towel and put it in the garbage can. I was unaware he had done this until later in the day when Bob found it and told me. Needless to say, I left the towel in the garbage. Leon didn't tell anyone he had done this. He did tell us however, that he had never thrown up before. That would explain one or two things, but not why he didn't mention the destroyed towel.
I spent the week picking up after Leon. Phone, camera, ipod, clothes etc. Did some of his laundry during the course of the week. The day before he was leaving I asked him in the afternoon, to bring me any laundry he had and I would do it, so he could pack everything clean. He said, "No it's okay. I'll just get my mom to do it when I get home." I confirmed that he was sure, and that it was no problem as I always had a load of laundry on the go. No, it was okay.
At 10:20pm, way past my usual bedtime I might add, Leon comes to me and says, "I brought all of my laundry down." Bob and I looked at him, and I said "What laundry, and where were you bringing it?" He replies "My dirty laundry, I brought it downstairs to wash." Bob and I sat in disbelief as we do often with a house full of teens. I said "Leon, I asked you this afternoon to give me laundry! We aren't doing it now!" He said, "Well I can stay up and do it." I told him no and that he had missed the boat and we will just pack his stuff as is. I sat shaking my head as I often do. My youngest Noah mentioned that the dryer vent/hose had come off the back of the dryer. I filed this in my memory bank for tomorrow and headed to bed. Tomorrow was a busy day. Bob goes to work. Takes 2 kids with him to babysit for my sister. One goes to volleyball practice in the middle of the babysitting. The five kids and myself have dental appointments at 1pm. Leon wants to go to a store which is only open until noon and we have to be to the airport by 3:30. We live about 25 minutes from the airport. My nicely organized schedule to get everyone where they needed to be was set in my brain. I am 99% of the time always on time or early. I am OCD about punctuality. It disturbs me to be late for anything.
After showering and making sure everyone was up I ask Leon if he would like help packing. He had been concerned that he would be unable to pack the things he came with back where his mother had put them. He and Josh were starting to look at taking some of our luggage with him, but I said no. Unless his mother was a rocket scientist and it was a requirement in this case, I am sure we could pack his bag. It is at this point that he informs me that he still has some laundry in the dryer. I remember he had a couple of things in the last load I had done yesterday and I went down to retrieve them.
When I walked in the laundry room, it was like a steam bath in there. Then I remembered Noah telling me the dryer pipe was off. The dryer was running at this point. So I shut off the dryer, turned on the exhaust fan, pulled out the washer and dryer and reconnected things and put them back. I was an annoyed sweating mess at this point. Also keep in mind I am pre-menopausal and the hotflashes come on their own. I don't need any help. The kids (no names mentioned) had pulled out the dryer looking for pingpong balls. Another factor to annoy me.
I start wondering why the dryer is going. I open it up, and the load of clothes inside is very damp. I think to myself, the stuff I put in yesterday should be dry by now. Then I open the dryer again and as an intact, wrapped Livesavers mint candy falls out, I realize this is not the load I had put in, but a full load of all of Leon's clothes. As I start sifting through it, I see clothes that I know he has not worn this week and some of Josh's clothes. It is now 11:15am. I need to have this kid packed and get everyone ready to head to town. I go upstairs madder than a wet hen. (Jessica affectionately calls me Mother Hen). In my rant at 2 teenage boys I explained I need to get to town and now we have wet clothes in the dryer (which I ranted some more, should not be there as he had been told the night before!) I also added that I could tell he picked up every thing that had been on Josh's floor and basically threw it all in the dryer dirty or not. He acknowledged my motherly laundry knowledge. He said he could take the wet clothes in a bag home. I said no, that they would stink by the time he got there, and his mother would just have to wash them all over again. Time is a valuable commodity to me and there is no way I will waste mine or anyone else's unnecessarily. So at 12:15 the clothes were dry. As I opened the dryer door, 2 more luckily still wrapped candies fell out onto the floor. I threw everything into a laundry basket with the rest of his belongings and told him he could pack it all at my sister's. We were hitting the road.
The dentist visit saw 4 out of 5 children with cavities much to their dismay. We left with new toothbrushes in hand and appointments for 4 months later for filings. When we got back to my sister's, Leon was all packed. See it wasn't rocket science after all. He had a true sense of accomplishment. We get Leon to the airport and the plane even left 10 minutes early.
We ate dinner in town, which we rarely do and got home around 7:15. Two messages from Leon's mom were flashing on the answering machine. I called her back to let her know that he got on the plane and was on his way. During our conversation she told me that he was ADHD and that he had gone off the meds he had been taking THE WEEK BEFORE HE CAME TO SEE US!!! I sat in a bit of a bewildered state listening to her as Bob wondered what the heck she was telling me. It sure would have been nice to know this before hand. The yelling, wrestling, flu, laundry fiasco etc would all have been dealt with in a different manner. Possibly a more calmish manner.
Two days later I am throwing yet another load of laundry in. As I am sorting through one of the full baskets, I notice that the socks look clean and washed. I do the smell test. Yep, these are clean. As I dig through this basket I realize ALL OF IT IS CLEAN! Then the little light bulb goes off over my head. This is the load of laundry that Leon had taken out and threw in a basket amidst the dirty ones, so he could do his FORBIDDEN LOAD!!! At that point I wanted to strangle kid all over again. I pulled out the wrinkled shirts that I was not going to iron, and threw them back in for another tumble in the wash.
And that was the first half of my Christmas vacation. The rest was spent basically sleeping in until 9am, doing laundry, tidying on a daily basis, doing some school work and relaxing. No complaints there.
New Year's eve was spent at home with Sharon and her family, and Karen and Bill (all friends' names are changed :) We ate and played cards. Very enjoyable evening. I actually stayed up until midnight.
On another day as I drove home with my daughter Jessica, she was recalling a discussion about driving and hitting deer. We basically had said that if you swerve to miss a deer on the road, and wreck your vehicle, your insurance will say it is your fault. You can't prove the accident was due to a deer, because it got away. So basically speaking, you are better off to hit the deer with respect to insurance coverage, not obviously health or safety-wise. So this topic was rumbling around in her brain as we were driving. She turns to me and says, "You know how you were talking about how it is better to hit the deer for insurance?" Of course I replied, "Yes." She asked ever so innocently, "So does that apply to humans too?" These children catch me at a loss for words often. I did quickly tell her, that no you should swerve to miss humans regardless.
At dinner on another evening, we were commenting that the new year was going to be 2012. My husband says, "Isn't that when the world is going to end?" Daughter Nicole ponders this and asks her sister, "If there is no food left would you eat me? " She starts looking at her legs and says, "My legs are pretty strong, good for eating." Jessica says, " Your tongue is the strongest muscle in your body." So of course Nicki starts feeling her tongue. Keep in mind while this is going on, we are a hunting family. We eat what we hunt. The children know that we don't hunt or eat carnivores like wolves, foxes or coyotes. We eat omnivores and herbivores. You know the meat and veggie eaters. So once again the little light bulb goes off over Jessica's head. She promptly says, "So does that mean we will only eat the vegetarians?" Bob and I burst out laughing. "Yes Jessica, we will only eat vegetarians if the world runs out of food." The girls' phys-ed teacher does not eat meat, so I advised them, they could eat her first.
Well this is enough of my ramblings for today.
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