Christmas Eve at Bob and Martha's.



Note the absolute mayhem. Then note Bob praying for peace and an undamaged house in the background.

Merry Christmas to all!

This was my Christmas miracle - I actually woke BEFORE the kids! I came downstairs, turned on the Christmas tree lights, made coffee, emptied the dishwasher and enjoyed the silence before I heard the pitter patter of excited little feet rushing down the stairs.

I found a small lump yesterday.

I'm sure it's nothing, seeing as I just had a mammogram and the results were good. I just need to get my head around it and call the doctor after Christmas.

Oh. God. Help. Me!

Christmas is only days away and I'm not ready. Satchel has been sick since Wednesday night and if I'm not at work, I'm at home tending to him.

I thought I was being nice by letting the boys open the presents a good friend dropped by and of course (guess which one) the reaction is: THEY ARE THE WORST PRESENTS EVER! I HATE THEM. THEY ARE FOR BABIES AND THESE ARE TOO HARD! AND I BET YOU BOUGHT ME THE EXACT SAME THING! WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THEM! I HATE THEM. I HATE THEM! MY GOD. MY BIRTHDAY PRESENTS WERE BETTER. OH MY GOD, AND SATCHEL? HE GOT A DS GAME. IT COULD HAVE BEEN BAKUGON OKAY? OH MY GOD.

I'm just typing what I hear. Right now he's wailing in the living room.

THEY'RE ASS. THAT'S WHAT THEY ARE THEY'RE ASS!

What? I think to myself

Oh where oh where are the little magic pills to make everything right in my world?

Okay, just lost it. Just dragged him upstairs to his room, tossed him in and screamed at him.

Of course he's back down now, still screaming. Deep breath.

December 16 - Jakob turned 6!

And he had a fabulous day!

He loved the balloons.



He LOVED his presents.




He even LOVED his card...and I quote "this is the funniest card ever!"



I kept thinking, what have you done with my Jakob? And can I keep you?!

After presents, Satchel, Jakob and I made our traditional gingerbread house.




And then we had our party! And what a party - there was screaming, crying, laughing, more screaming, drinking...everything you could ever want for a six year old's celebration (and even things you hoped never to experience).

One year later...and I am cancer free!

Best early Christmas present EVER!

Aunt Maureen passed away today.

I'm going to miss her.

CHRISTMAS TREE - done.
PRESENTS FOR HALF OF HUMANITY - not quite there yet.

Just spent an entire afternoon with Satchel at the Sufferin Mall, specifically in Walmart and ToysRUs.

And Paul and Jakob have spent the entire afternoon in the attic playing Lego Starwars II. And are still up there while I am surrounded by an absolute mess, which really should have been cleaned up, and am cooking dinner...FOR THEM.

Jakob has just stopped by to tell me, no...TO ORDER ME to call Satchel RIGHT NOW because he NEEDS him. I said "Don't talk to me like that and NO I am not calling Satchel and you and Daddy can stop playing and stay downstairs."

That went really well. Jakob yelled NOOOOOOOOO, stomped the floor with his feet and headed back upstairs.

I'm always amazed that none of them can sense when I am about to throw a telephone.

Another party down, one more tonight and then finally a day off tomorrow - this constant celebrating is going to kill me! My alcohol level must at the very least rival a good merlot.

I saw on Thursday that Canadian Tire now sells white leather Barcelona chairs at their Dundas and Bay location. Thank GOD what I didn't see was a price tag on them.

This has been the worst week EVER.

Not only does Aunt Maureen have a massive stroke, work was insanely busy and I had functions virtually every night (which I hate, because I am by nature a little on the anti social side - hence the blog), this morning SOMEONE TRASHED MY WORK SPACE.

I was so ANGRY, I should virtually type the rest of the post in upper case. Picture frames were all over the floor, pulled apart, my kind of ugly inukshuk was chipped, photos thrown around, my lamp knocked over. I could barely function. And I don't think this was the cleaners because I think that if they had somehow managed to accidentally cause the mess, they probably would have piled all the pieces back on my desk.

And now, I have to shower and make myself pretty because for the first time ever, I have to go to Paul's office Christmas party.

But first, I must go wipe Jakob's bum because the King is "DONE POOPING!"

SAD NEWS

My Aunt Maureen, my Mom's remaining sister, suffered a massive stroke on Tuesday night and is not expected to survive.

I just saw her a week and a half ago in London, where she looked wonderful and was as happy and warm and affectionate as always.

But we are a family of fighters, many times members of my family have been struck down by serious illnesses/accidents and have defied all odds and survived.

My heart goes out to Uncle Doug and all my cousins.

Finally, having lived in the house for 13 months, we have a mirror in the powder room.

And crazily, I ran into our contractor outside of the house and he actually said SHALL WE SCHEDULE A WALK THROUGH NEXT WEEK?

My life is turning around.

A portrait of Hamish desperately trying to attract the attention of his friend...but doesn't quite know what to do when he gets it.

Oh, what's that over there? An open bottle of wine? And if I'm really really quiet, I think I can hear it calling to me.

My kids, no correction, ALL KIDS are completely pushing me over the edge. Jakob has been horrible this entire weekend and I'm not sure if part of it can be attributed to Paul being away or if it's just his nature right now. But he has me walking around with a massive stomach ache.

I just had a mirror installed in the powder room this afternoon with strict instructions NOT TO USE THE SINK because of the fresh caulking. I pick up the kids from school, Satchel as usual is bringing home a stray and wants to walk ahead of me and Jakob. I hand over the keys and say YOU CAN USE THE POWDER ROOM BUT NOT THE SINK. A MIRROR HAS BEEN INSTALLED AND THE CAULKING CAN'T GET WET. Satchel says okay.

I get home, ask where the stray is, he says in the bathroom.

Stray comes out, I say YOU DIDN'T USE THE SINK DID YOU?

He says, Oh yeah, I did.

I say, I SPECIFICALLY TOLD BOTH OF YOU NOT TO.

He says, Oh well.

I do NOT commit murder though it is very close.

I walk into the bathroom and the mirror and caulking is soaked.

But kindly, the stray did forget to flush and put the seat down so I had a bowl of piss staring at me.

I NEED A DRINK.

I have been surrounded by kids, and not just my own, since Thursday afternoon. All boys. All leave the toilet seat and piss all over the toilet and floor rather than aiming INTO the toilet bowl boys. I'll have to start throwing cheerios in - give them something to aim for.

And the phone keeps ringing and I look at the caller ID and I see it's the same parents, calling over and over, just TRYING to bring their boys over again. STOP. Take mine for once!

I've stopped answering the phone.

They are loud, they break things, they GO INTO MY ROOM, they make messes - they are driving me insane.

And Paul is in New Brunswick at a make-his-mother-happy surprise birthday party until Monday.

help.

Still no word from the hospital - which I am interpreting as very good news!

But I will have my positive thoughts confirmed when I meet with Dr. McCready on December 10.

More importantly, here are the pictures of Jakob receiving his student of the month award!

Yesterday started out brilliantly.

Paul and I went to the school to watch Jakob accept his award for Student of the Month (pictures will be posted later today) and he was adorable, waving to us from the front of the auditorium.

Afterwards Paul left for work with the promise to meet me at the hospital and I went home to putter, make coffee and build up anxiety before the mammogram.

The imaging department was running behind so I waited nearly an hour in my blue gown and then was finally ushered into the room where the technician scanned both breasts! She felt it was important to get a scan of my chest wall, which makes tremendous sense when I think that is where the cancer came within a hair width of spreading. But this squishing caused me even greater stress - I had visions of my 15-hour reconstructed chest mound being popped, or squeezed permanently into some weird shape complete with an orange peel texture - even visions of it deflating and shifting south, competing with my new naval, danced through my head.

But I won't know the results until today - a specialist was to look at the scan yesterday afternoon and then they would call me back if necessary. Knock on wood, I haven't heard from them yet so I'm really hoping everything is clean.

To end my day, Satchel pulled out his last baby tooth (a molar deep in the back) and this was probably a bit premature considering all the blood over the bathroom and the tissues in the waste basket - not to mention the pain it caused him.

I felt a bit sad about it too which was crazy - another vestige of youth left behind.

I have my first mammogram tomorrow since my diagnosis of breast cancer last year.

Anxious doesn't begin to describe how I feel.

Wish me luck!

Jakob is student of the month and his report card had a lot of A's!

I am so proud.

So proud that I took both Satchel (who also had a pretty decent report card) and Jakob to Sufferin Mall and bought them each a present. Cursed Pokemon cards for Jakob and mind sucking Gamecube game for Satchel.

That's how much I love them.

Satchel and I braved the Eaton's Centre with 1 TRILLION OTHER PEOPLE on Saturday to find him new boots and a few other things.

This is the second pair of boots that I bought Satchel this season - the first pair was bought while shopping in the States 2 months ago with my niece but his feet have grown 2 sizes in a period of less than two months.

And interestingly the first pair of boots (size 6) cause him to sob when he wears them (twice), yet wheeling around in his size 5 Heelys seems to be okay...

Anyway, forgive the digression.

While walking around the Eaton Centre, Satchel was chipper and enthusiastic. Even saying "You know why I'm such a good runner Mommy? It's the stamina built up from going on long walks with you!" And we would hug and smile and walk on to the next store.

2 hours later, Satchel is now grabbing his chest and his arms, crying that we need to leave the mall NOW!!!!! because he is having a heart attack.

Fine fine fine. We'll leave. Can we stop by this store first? No? The pain is too much to shop? Fine.

Then we're standing on the subway platform with Satchel leaning into me, openly weeping, me trying really hard to not roll my eyes while the 1 MILLION people waiting for the subway cast bewildered looks at me.

"But don't worry Mommy, I may be having a heart attack but I can still play PAINTBALL tomorrow!"

SOLD! $350.



I am so glad this week is over.

Last Sunday I took the boys to the Santa Clause parade.

It started out fine - we were fairly close to the street, elves were throwing candy, we caught candy and then...

...the most devastating thing that could possibly happen, happened.

Satchel was given a cookie, Jakob was not.

Jakob spent the rest of the parade screaming "this parade sucks. all the floats? they SUCK! the people watching the parade...THEY SUCK!"

Then he dared to say what should never be spoken by children..."SANTA SUCKS!"

It was pretty bad. It was all I could do not to pick him up and toss him into one of the passing floats and say good riddance.

But then, probably at the 3/4 mark, an elf threw a lone miniature candy cane and Jakob caught it. Suddenly, everything was okay. Satchel wasn't the favoured one, Jakob too was lucky. He had a candy cane, didn't even matter that he doesn't really like them, and Satchel didn't.

Suddenly he LOVED the parade and he really LOVED Santa. As he explained to me, he had just been in a bit of a bad mood.



Jakob trying to look cute after getting the candy cane.

Today is the one year anniversary of my mastectomy.

Crazy how time flies.

The painting is finished!

I can finally breath easy - well as easy as one can breath in a toxic fume-filled kitchen. Now to create the 6x6 card and send it to the printer.

I have roughly three days to finish my painting for work. Am I stressed? Of course! But have I dipped into the wine? Nope. Totally sober. But only because I'm OUT of wine.

The positive is I finally found my oil paint so am essentially redoing it. The downside is I have three days to finish the painting. And I have a headache. Also, a partially blue cat.

Today was a fabulous day because Lucy was here and I came home to a clean house. I opened the door and breathed in the wonderfully chemical-fresh scent of cleaning products. Also found the laundry started - though frankly I would NOT have put my work pants in the dryer and am a little afraid to now try them on.

I almost didn't know what to do with myself with my house so clean. So after taking Hamish to the vets (he may have a cyst, we're keeping an eye on it - fabulous), paying all my bills, putting the (left) wash into the dryer...I started calling mirror companies to quote for our powder room after getting what I thought was an insane quote from Adanac ($360 for a wall mounted plain mirror - crazy).

First company told me to call back tomorrow, second company quoted $100 higher for the mirror telling me in quite the condescending tone that it's awfully complicated to cut a piece of glass. Idiots.

But I have heard through the grape vine that my ex-contractor knows someone who's very reasonable and that my neighbour has hired them to do a backsplash (not that the contractor would tell me of course, but my neighbour will!) which I think is a delicious irony if I can take advantage of the information.

I am about to contact my contractor and ask him if he can order me one of his $35 doors to replace my bedroom one with so that it will match all the others he installed. I laugh because he charged me $400 each for them initially but when had to credit back two said they only cost $35.

I wonder what he will say - as I poke new dimples into my cheeks.

I have visited the dark friend who's name is BOTOX...and I have to admit, kind of like it!

Though now that my "angry" line is disappearing, I will have to either hold up signs saying "I'M ROYALLY PISSED" to my little family or continue yelling at them until they catch on.

Having lost the ability to scowl and feeling as though I have a small plastic shield in my forehead, I will tell you the story of how this came to pass.

I was in medical terms, a "guinea pig" or as they say in Latin, an "ineaguay igpay".

A friend of mine is leaving the life of an ER doctor and starting a family practice downtown. Like a number of family doctors in Toronto, he would like to "compliment" his general practice with cosmetic procedures - which really means he wants to make a lot more money by injecting happy people with needles and less of the annoying and poorly-paying pap tests and ball squishing (whatever they do to guys behind closed doors).

So he took the course and then needed victims to practice on...which is where Pat and I came in. So in a small room in Burlington last Saturday, surrounded by 7 doctors and 1 expert I was poked by many needles - mainly addressing the "anger" line which I truly haven't been enjoying of late.

And I have to tell you - it's nearly gone! And if I can actually get a picture of my face where I'm not blinking or looking like I'm about to fall over drunk because I can't keep my eyes open when the flash pops, I'll show you.

Paul asked why I would bother do it so I explained that it's part of my giving nature, helping out a friend...and most importantly, it was FREE!

Why do I do this to myself?

Why do I say at work "I have a great idea, how about I do an original painting to be turned into the office Christmas card, to be sent out to ALOT of incredibly important clients!" And do I stop there? OF COURSE NOT! For then I add "I will donate the painting to our United Way Auction to help raise money!"

Sure...this sounds like an absolutely fabulous and altruistic idea, but I always seem to block one critical component from my mind.

That I actually have to DO the painting.

And now I am stressed, with little time, looking at what I've painting so far with terrible acrylic paint and my kids' brushes, because I can't find my oils and good brushes, and can only think:

CRAP! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!!!

Arthur gettin' some love with his favourite little cat-nipped filled mouse. He loves this mouse, carries it around the house in his mouth, meowing the entire time. Becomes very unpopular at 4:30 in the morning.

Likes to hide it in his bed where he stares at it with the same intensity as a stalker.

Gets very upset when he finds Hamish in the bed with the mouse - his bitterness is palpable.

Halloween was fabulous and truly my favourite night of the year.

I love everything about it: the costumes, the children, the decorations - it is with remorse that I begin to deconstruct my house, ridding it of all things pagan and gothic.

My boys were both Death, a.k.a Grim Reaper.

Though cheaply-had ones, all souls were spared for a piece of candy.

I was a witch. Also could be described as a portrait of a slow disintegration into wine excess and candy - complete with incredibly long eye lashes.






This morning we found that the evil teenagers (or, as Jakob screamed out on to the empty street, scythe in hand, freakin' buttheads) had smashed all of our pumpkins on to the street.

I didn't mind, one thing less to deal with - the emotional attachment to the rotting orange carcases, and then the devastation felt by Jakob while I try to stuff them into the green bin.

I should never have even typed the words - the sleepover has been canceled and Jakob is now running a mild fever and has an ear ache.

Cursed.

Jakob has a sleep over tonight - his very first!

And Satchel might have one too!

I'm too afraid to say it out loud - that we might be childless for one precious night - for fear that if the words do slip from my mouth, Jakob will come down with a terrible flu virus or Satchel will slip down the stairs, fracturing his ankle - or that the other parents will come to their senses and call saying they're sorry, but their baby has come down with a horrible rash and they think it's contagious and they just could not in conscience let Jakob come over...

Instead, I can only walk around the house holding my hands to my mouth, hiding the GIGANTIC smile on my face!

This is the beginning - my favourite time of the year!

Back from the hospital sporting my new tattoo.

I'm tired, cranky and I hurt. And it didn't help that the student doctor who observed the whole procedure by Dr. Lipa and the doctor who assisted looked not much older than Satchel.

This is the miracle bra that was worth the psychological damage caused by standing in the harsh fluorescent glow of the change room at the Bay:

warner's sleek underneath which I purchased on sale for $27 and would definitely recommend for comfort since it's seamless and wireless and provides great support, especially if you've had surgery - like a mastectomy.

And yes, that's me in the picture.

Oh look, there I am again in a different colour.

Jakob: "Did you know your arm hair freezes at night and then melts when you wake up?"

Me: "I had no idea - but this does kind of explain Daddy's pillow."

If you listen closely you will hear the sounds of my seething frustration: SATCHEL HAS LOST HIS BRAND NEW JACKET ALREADY! He drives me insane with everything that goes missing - and now he's trying to blame Paul for it, that Daddy should have looked in the schoolyard.

He is SO close to not reaching puberty.

There is nothing worse than trying on bras at The Bay in their unforgiving change rooms with harsh fluorescent light beating down you - showing off every scar, every new dimple and deformity caused by a mastectomy.

I am in love and her name is Lucy for Lucy cleaned my house today and it looks absolutely fantastic!

But it was also a day of mixed emotions for I had my annual physical and according to the "nurse", I have gained 8 POUNDS since my waifish post-surgery 127. I knew my Kenneth Cole skinny pants were getting a little too tight - I just didn't want to acknowledge it enough to actually do anything about it.

Laughter too prevailed today as I took Satchel to his first-ever skating lesson and he was fabulous - falling a few times but mostly looking like he was running a marathon with broken ankles rather than actually gliding on ice.

Even Jakob looked up from his pile of candies to ask "why is Satchel running?"

I'm sick with a terrible head cold, I'm up to my eyeballs folding laundry, and I'm miserable.

My weekend was a bust - I had to cancel attending an AIDs benefit on Friday night, dinner at friends on Saturday, and apple/pumpkin picking with with the kids on Sunday - which, rumour had it, was an absolutely fabulous day. But I would not be able to confirm this because I instead spent my time in bed, popping pills and drinking tea.

I should never have mocked Cheezits.

My conversation at work -

Me: I'm in my happy place with Cheezits!

S: What? You're in your happy place with Jesus? I don't even know how to respond to that.

Me: Yes, exactly, with Jesus.

This morning, while getting ready for work, I heard the sound of coins jingling meaning the Toothfairy had arrived!

But what I didn't hear was the pitter patter of little feet running to the bathroom to rejoice that fact with us - so out of curiosity I went to Jakob's bedroom to find out what was going on. He was buried in his bed so I poked the pile of blankets and finally he responded with "I got nothing! Nothing! The toothfairy didn't come!"

Weird since I had left $2.50 the night before.

So I did what any time-pressed mother would do - I went back to the bathroom to continue readying for work.

Moments later, Jakob stormed into the bathroom, threw the money on the vanity and yelled "All I got was this! This is CRAP! I don't even want it!"

I said to Paul "He got that from you." and finished putting on make-up.

Jakob lost another tooth this morning.

At this point he would happily remove all his teeth because of the monetary rewards brought by the Toothfairy. Of course he also thinks it's time she upped the ante and started bringing bills - and not just $5 bills either - this pile of change thing just isn't doing it for him.

There will be a calm in my life (and my marriage), beginning in exactly ONE week - the day my BRAND NEW HOUSE CLEANER starts!

I do hope I will love her.

But the stress countdown also begins: how do I organize my house in 7 days so that she actually CAN clean? Other than hiring Amanda (http://positivelyorganized.blogspot.com/) which I would really, desperately, love to do.

I'll start small, one room at a time. One cocktail at a time.

Other than my messy-house-soon-to-be-clean-house news, I have my next round of tattooing scheduled for the 24th (still NOT leaning towards the eyeball), my next mammogram scheduled for early next month, my next appointment with my oncologist scheduled post mammogram and my annual physical with GP next week (where I KNOW she's going to bring up my weight gain).

Rivaling my Mom in number of doctor's appointments is making it incredibly difficult for me to take that much needed trip to Edmonton.

God, I need to go roll around the house and wish for a pair of left over maternity pants. I ate way too much turkey this weekend.

The World's Shortest Fairytale

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy, "Will you marry me?"

The guy said "No" and the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, drank martinis with friends, always had a clean house, never had to cook, had a closet full of shoes and handbags, stayed skinny, and was never farted on.

The End

Satchel and I participated in the CIBC Run/Walk for the Cure yesterday along with 31,700+ other people and it was...FABULOUS!

Satch had this posted on his back which still feels so surreal to me, that I'm part of this crazy club I still can't believe I signed up for - especially made evident when we were pocketed with the other survivors for the walk, all in our matching pink t-shirts.

Look how pretty!




And I'm still alive (and sober) after 5 separate deliveries of cushions.

The Case of the Two Barcelona Chairs or What Will Ultimately Be Responsible For My Premature Death.

On September 7, Paul and I celebrated our anniversary by taking the day off and going to GH JOHNSON'S to buy two white Barcelona chairs for our kitchen.

Happily they took our money and promised a Thursday delivery. Unfortunately on Tuesday they cancelled the Thursday delivery and promised Monday sometime after 1:30 to accommodate my work schedule. Fortunately I had the foresight to leave a note on the front door to see my neighbour if they showed early - and they did, came in the morning and left the 2 chairs. Of the two frames, one was damaged and both sets of cushions were either damaged or didn't fit the frame properly.

After 3 days of calling and leaving messages and never having my calls returned, I finally talked to Glen who promised that by the following Thursday all would be righted. Unfortunately he forgot and my Thursday promise was pushed to the following Tuesday.

The new frames came (one fine, one damaged - but I still had one that was okay so sent both damaged frames back) and new cushions. One set of cushions was perfect, and then after the delivery guys left, I found that I had been left with 2 base cushions instead of a base and a top - so the base cushion wouldn't fit the frame. Paul walked the cushion over to GH Johnson's to exchange it for a proper cushion and came home to find out that we had been given a completely different design which also didn't fit the frame properly.

So he called and FREAKED OUT, SWEARING A BLUE STREAK until they promised to personally deliver a new cushion today, adhering to my schedule. And a lovely man did, but also wanted to take the original base cushion THAT FIT PERFECTLY and replace it with a new one so that I had a brand new set and then he left.

Paul came home and looked at the chair saying the base cushion is not the same size as on the other chair - and it's not. Because David left us with two top cushions, so as a base cushion, it's too short. Of course I didn't notice and now after calling David on his cell phone, having Paul yell and swear which has only increased my anxiety, and then calling GH Johnson's again to be told no one can help me tonight, to wait until tomorrow for David, and then HUNG UP ON...

...I am going to have a nervous breakdown and still do not have my two perfect Barcelona chairs that really will look quite stunning if and when we ever get it right.

I'm exhausted. I had insomnia last night and even the changing of beds didn't help.

My restlessness even forced Hamish and Arthur to desert me.

Jerks.

I finally fell asleep around 3:30 (I think) and then was woken by Jakob 2 hours later because he had wet the bed. And after finishing 2 more loads of laundry, since he soaked every sheet, blanket and the duvet on his bed, I have now just found his soaking wet pajama bottoms hidden behind the laundry basket in his room.

So I'm puttering around the house, armed with a hammer to hang pictures, and cranky. And to push me over the edge, because children have a 6th sense on just how to do that, Jakob is following me where ever I go, talking endlessly in a very loud voice about Pokemon.

This is why parents of young children DRINK. ALOT.

It's 1:21 in the afternoon and I have spent the last 2 hours folding laundry. Paul put together an IKEA bed in a shorter period of time.

If you don't hear from me again it's because one of the 6 foot piles of shirts have fallen over, burying me forever - or until the family gets hungry and searches me out.

Jakob lost a tooth this morning - his first naturally, his 3rd in total. He's still a bit in shock over it - namely, that it didn't hurt when Paul pulled it out. Jakob also flushed a fruit smoothie wrapper down the toilet but has asked me not to tell Paul because Paul would either give him away or saw him in half.

Paul walking Jakob to school today:

"...I just can't see Daddy. If I don't get glasses, I'll have to keep my eyes closed...FOREVER!"

Another weekend spent at soccer fields where Satchel's team did really well winning, I mean slaughtering, or perhaps the correct term is shutting them out on Friday and at both games on Saturday. But sadly, it was not to be on Sunday morning where they lost...because they got COCKY! and not because the other team paid out a bigger bribe to the referees as suggested by Satchel.

To make myself feel better, I took Brenda, William and Aidan to Ikea where we shopped with 5 million other people and I, once again, spent way too much money. I didn't have that moment where the woman runs out of the store shrieking to her husband to GO! GO!!! Instead I sucked in my breath when told the amount and accused the cashier of having made a mistake.

Jakob informed Paul, with a straight face and very deep voice, that he is not obsessed with Pokemon cards, but that he is a collector of Pokemon cards.

Day 3 of strike.

A dilemma - Paul made dinner therefore I am obligated to do the dishes! Or am I?

Maybe I should sit back and have a drink and think about this a little more...I don't want to rush into action unnecessarily. Yes, a civilized beverage.

And Paul is helping Jakob with his homework, which is as painful as it is to watch Jakob play soccer. It's all I can do to not break out laughing - instead I bury my head into the computer, typing away at this blog...as my body shakes uncontrollably.

I feel like I'm a bit behind in my photo postings.

Flowers from my anniversary.



Satchel - the day of his 11th birthday.